I know, I know. What's the point of having a blog if you don't use it, right? 'Tis true, I've been neglecting my writing duties, and I'm not proud. Where I've been these past few weeks, I'm not quite sure. I haven't been exceptionally busy - at least not busy enough to warrant not blogging for a month. But I have been tired, and stuck in a rut. A get up and go to work-come home and veg out rut. No excuses. I'm back, baby. Let's catch up!
In January I had three goals; workout 20 times, start this blog and find a space for my one woman show. Well, I worked out 14 times in January, and although I didn't reach my goal, I'm certain that if I didn't have the goal in my mind I would have logged less than 14 workouts through the month. So, yeah, a success of sorts. My "Mind" goal was a piece of cake - start the blog - check! Now, for the real conundrum. I've been searching for a theatre on the westside of L.A. that will host my show so that I don't have to pay a gazillion dollars to produce it... and yes, that's how much it costs to put up a one woman show in this town, a gazillion dollars. So far, I've had no luck in finding a free space, so it looks like I'm going to have to bite the bullet and shell out the cash to rent a theatre. Knowing this, you would've thought I'd have done it by now, but I'm stalling. Smart business woman stalling? No. Nervous, insecure actor stalling? Hell yes. I'll keep you posted on how this works out as future details unfold.
Now let's get back to good old fashioned body-lovin' posts!
Adam and I went out to this fancy restaurant for Valentine's Day last Saturday. Going out to nice restaurants often ignites anxiety for me. I have a fear that I'll get kicked out for not being innately fancy, that people will judge my plastic, oversized Forever 21 earrings and scoff at my Old Navy Jeans. I did my best to look decent, sat up straight and made a valiant attempt at keeping my elbows off the table. About halfway through dinner I went to the bathroom, which happened to have an enormous wall of mirrors. I stood in front of them and guess what the first thought in my head was? 'God, I hate my hips!'? Noooo. 'Ugh, even my elbows are fat!'? Keep guessing. 'Crap, I look like I'm pregnant!'? Nope. Okay, give up? It was this - this was the my first thought that fateful Saturday night:
There's nothing wrong with you.
For those of you who know my struggle, you know how huge this is. I know that a more powerful mantra might be something along the lines of 'You're beautiful, strong and powerful', but I'm not there yet. So I'm starting with 'There's nothing wrong with you'. Crazy as it sounds, this was one of those life-changing "a-ha" moments. I'm taking it and I'm running with it. Amen and hallelujah. There's nothing wrong with me!