Permission to SHINE

Skirt / Earrings: CRIV, Shirt: Vestique, Purse: Versona, Shoes: Nordstrom, Stone Bracelet: Kendra Scott

When we are little, our parents and teachers (if we had decent ones at least), said things to us like...

"You can be whatever you want to be."
"The sky is the limit."
"If you try and don't succeed, try, and try again."

As we get older though, that kind of support and expression tends to dwindle. As in, parents clap when their little ones learn how to walk and begin to recite the alphabet song - but as you get older, that naturally dies down a bit and and (perhaps as a result) we stop getting so excited about learning (and a bit more apprehensive to try new things).

Perhaps fear of judgement infiltrates our brain - once we see that people make fun of those who act/dress/express themselves differently we learn to avoid doing and saying things that may make us a target for other people's judgement. We stop thinking that we can be and do whatever we want, that we can try over and over and that failing is okay. That stumbling is an unavoidable part of learning. We start to fear "looking stupid"and being made fun of.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately because I've been painting again.

I painted a lot in high school. When I went home for my HS reunion I was reminded of that, and now... 20 years later... I am painting again. I have shared some photos of my paintings on social media and I have (lovingly) heard quite a few people say...

"OMG, what can't you do???"
"Everything you touch turns to gold!"
"You are SO talented!!!"

I am a human being, so those comments feel nice when I read them, but I then go on to over think and dissect them in my head.
After compliments like that I find myself going STRAIGHT into self-deprecation mode. Replying to positive comments with a laundry list of things I suck at (math, accounting, defensive driving, technology, knowing my left from my right, science things, etc.). I feel the need to make light of  compliments and I go to that place in my head where I start to get nervous. Because... for every sweet, positive, uplifting comment, there are probably AT LEAST the same (if not double) the amount of people looking at what I put out there and judging it negatively.

"Who does she think she is?"
"Umm.... those paintings blow goats."
"Abstract?? I don't get it."
"She's actually NOT that talented, why are all of these people gassing her up?"


HOLY MIND FK, BATMAN! 

I'll tell you the truth...

I am NOT good at everything.
Shocker - I know! For a minute there maybe you thought I was the one person on the planet who was. Sadly, no.

Also... everything I touch does NOT turn to gold.
Most things I work at. Hard. I work at my corporate job and at being a knowledgeable Pilates teacher. I put a lot of time into painting and trying new techniques. I used to aggressively work on building a skincare business... until that no longer felt right and authentic for me to be doing. Whatever I am into I am IN. TO. IT and I do it with my whole ass. (I try not to half-ass anything.) I also put things DOWN when they no longer serve me. I share what I like and what I am excited about. If you're into it too, cool! If not, that's cool too. 

I am no more talented than most other people walking around.
I've met people who are insanely intelligent, skilled, gifted... if I'm being dead ass honest, I don't share that God-given gift of just being naturally good at things. I have to work hard at pretty much everything. When I went to learn Pilates, I practiced, A LOT. I still do. When I went to build a business, I read books, podcasts, was mentored, watched trainings, and I did things before I was ready.

There are millions of people out there with more talent than I have. You know what I do though??? I share. I put myself out there. I do things WAY before it's comfortable for me to be doing them. I fall flat on my ever loving face (in front of people) and understand that it's okay to do so. I love myself through the mess. I got really sick and almost died a few years back... that shit will WAKE YOUR ASS UP. You can't be THAT close to dying and come out of it still giving a shit what people think.

Here's one of the hardest lessons to learn...
The people closest to you will be some of the most unsupportive people out there. It won't (more than likely) be strangers. It will be people in your family, who live under the same roof, who used to be your closest friends, your siblings, etc. People closest to you either A.) Don't want you to grow (they will say you've changed) because they were more comfortable with the way you were. OR B.) Your growth will force a mirror in front of them and if they don't like what they are seeing they will resent you.
Watch and listen to HOW people DIS others... what they say will clue you into THEIR unhealed wounds. For example...  if you lose some weight, focus on fitness and health, and start to become more confident, someone WILL call you conceded.  Chances are... those people are not happy with their bodies.  If you launch a business and it doesn't sky rocket into overnight success, SOMEONE out there will claim that you have failed. They will talk shit. Maaaaybe it's just that they are ashamed that they don't have the same courage. Strangers will hit the "like" button. Your old friends... they will keep scrolling.

Please listen when I tell you this... happy, healed, fulfilled people don't go around trying to make other people feel bad about themselves. THEY JUST DON'T. Keep that in mind the next time you find yourself shrinking back, backing down, waiting for the perfect time, aiming for perfection, or telling yourself you are less talented than someone else.  Find something you like. Do it. If no one else likes it or loves you through it, I promise you will live. I PROMISE YOU WILL LIVE (and maybe even feel like you have truly started living).

Fortune favors the bold, baby. Get yours.

Priorities

Kimono/Robe Thing: CRIV, Shorts: Marshalls, Shoes: CRIV, Purse: gift, Necklaces: Alex + Ani, Bodysuit: F21

I've seen this quote floating around the "interwebs" over the last few years. It says...

Instead of saying " I don't have time". Try saying "it's not a priority" and see how that feels.

I'm sure it was created by some well-meaning, motivator. Perhaps someone in fitness or business.

At first I liked it.
Then, I didn't. (It kind of made me feel dirty. Like person #1 was trying to shame person #2.)
Then... I started liking it again.
A lot.

Why do I mention all of this? Well... because this quote is PRETTY MUCH THE KEY TO EVERYTHING IN LIFE. At least in mine.

In daily life we are bombarded with to-dos. At different times we feel the need to workout like crazy, start a diet, make homemade cupcakes for our kid's classrooms, look amazing for an event, start a business, work a business, sustain a business. Start a relationship, work at a relationship, possibly end a relationship. Find time for date night. Shave our legs. Organize our pantry. Do the laundry. Mow the lawn. Do our taxes. There are endless household, financial, and career responsibilities. There are friendships to maintain, family to care for, etc. etc. etc.

Lots and lots of THINGS.
All of the time.
All of the things.
All of the time.

It's hard sometimes to figure out how to use the 24 hours we are given in a day, and if we don't use them in the way we think we "should" then we start to feel like a failure.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all of the things I think I should or should not be doing... I use this trick. When something pops into my head that I start to put on my mental to-do list, I simply ask my self, honestly?

Is this a priority today? Truly? Is it?

Yes or no.
Without judgement.
Without guilt.
Without shame.
Is this a priority?

Is working out a priority today? Most of the time, yes, it is. Sometimes though, no.

Is keeping my job a priority? Yes? Then I must show up for work. 

Moms and dads... is it a priority that your kid has a snack to bring to school for his/her birthday? Yes, more than likely it is. Is it priority that you devote 3 hours to it (between scouring Pinterest for ideas, shopping for ingredients, baking, and cleaning up)? Maybe not. Maybe you buy cupcakes that a baker at the grocery store poured his/her heart into. Your heart has a lot of other places to pour into that day. Your kid is going to remember that you showed up for them. That's all. There are no medals given out to exhausted parents for winning (moral victories) over the other moms and dads in the cul-de-sac who did not hand craft their kid's sweet treats.

Having a skincare regimen is a priority for me. Every. single. night. NO FAIL. Why? Because acne and wrinkles makes me feel like dog shit. So, no matter how tired I am. No matter how much I DON'T want to do it, washing my face and using 2 serums right after is a priority. #shitalmost40yearoldssay

Is washing and blow drying my hair a priority? 6 days out of 7, absolutely no. It just isn't. So I don't do it. 

Sex. Is it a priority? Some nights? No. Sleep. Sleep is the priority. But... tie it back to your partner's happiness and fulfillment. Your happiness and feeling of connection. If it's a priority for your partner's happiness and your partner's happiness IS a priority for you, then, boom. Sex might just be a priority that night.

Same thing with eating "right". Most meals... yes. I want to fuel my body with healthy food that makes me feel good. On a Saturday night at 2am out with friends making memories and sharing cocktails? Then it is not a priority. Getting chicken wings dipped in blue cheese is a priority.

Friends. By now you should know your friends. The high and the lower maintenance groups. This last Saturday I went out for my friend, Jess's birthday. I had not seen her IN A YEAR. We live 15 minutes from one another. But.... she works full-time, has 2 kids, a husband, and is busy. I am busy too. No sweat. We always pick up right where we left off. My friends Justin and Tommy though... I go 2 week's without seeing them and my shit starts to come undone at the seams. Standing around their kitchen and talking is a priority for my mental health.

Sidenote: You are not a bad friend if you don't see your friends all of the time. We are adults. There are lots and lots of things. All of the time. Things.

Don't feel bad about not "doing it all". Don't feel bad about asking for help, paying for help, recruiting professionals for things you don't want to trade your time for. I'd love to tell you that I plant flowers and garden. I wish I did, but it's not a priority for me. My husband mows our lawn, but spending his rare free time in it all weekend. Not a priority for him. We pay someone for their expertise.

I don't sew. I pay someone $5.00 every time I lose a button. Is that a bit excessive? Should I be embarrassed to admit that? Probably, but FK it. I don't prioritize learning how to sew. 

I pay for someone to come in and clean our house very so often. Why? Because they do a great job and I prioritize having a clean house. On my weekends, I just don't want to do it. I do it every day to some extent, but looking outside and seeing that it's gorgeous and sunny??? I prioritize getting my ass outside.

If you invite me to a bridal shower for my second cousin, three times removed on my dad's, aunt's, dog's side of the family? I am not going. It's not a priority and I am not going to feel bad about it. 

See... the quote is FKN genius.

Is it a priority?
Without judgement.
Without shame.
Without guilt.
Very simply.
Yes or No.
(Remember: It's not a trick question. There are no wrong answers.)

"In a world with so many choices 

 are demanded of you every single day, 

 don't forget that you have the choice

 to choose yourself.

 To choose what you need today to keep going. 

 To choose to move away from what's not working. 

 And to choose where you're headed next." 

-Rebecca Ray

*Was it a priority for me to edit the first picture in this post and get rid of the huge drop of boob sweat??? No, clearly it was not.

Yes Ma'am

Earrings and Purse: Versona, Shoes: Jessica Simpson, Jumpsuit: Forever 21, Ring: Kendra Scott

It's haaaaaaaaappening. I knew it would. I knew it was time. I half expected it. I saw it happen to other people. Who am I to be the exception to the rule??!!! I mean... I live down South and I am 38 years old. I.KNEW.IT.WAS.COMING.

I'm being called MA'AM.

A lot.
Often.
In various places, by EVERYONE. Men, women, boys, girls. Servers at restaurants, boys at the car wash, young women I start chatting with at the gym, bartenders, and bank tellers. Now, don't get me wrong. I have NOTHING against aging. It's a beautiful privilege denied to far too many. I am taking care of myself, and I actually feel (and maybe even look) better than I did 10 years ago.

Age creeps up on you like a silent, stealth, elusive, whisper, though, and maaaaaaan... Father Time is undefeated. The first few times it happened I was shocked. I started looking over my shoulder and then behind me for someone 25-30 years older.

I don't know why I am surprised though. I just attended my 20 year high school class reunion. YUP. I've been out of HS for 20 years. Also... the week before said reunion, I slept wrong and pulled something in my back. You read that correctly. I slept and pulled something. I woke up in physical pain because I slept wrong. When I was younger I could sleep for 3 hours, on the floor of a car,  with my shoes on, using my forearm for a pillow, wake up feeling like a zillion dollars, and eat Doritos for breakfast. Not anymore. If my pillow is too flat it FKS me up for a week.

Anyone fitting that description is most definitely a "ma'am".

There's just a part of me that is in denial. I mean.... I listen to hip-hop (loudly), I'm a Democrat, I drive a fast car that is not the least bit practical. I still say "righty tighty, lefty Lucy". I have 6 tattoos. I can't sew a button. I call my mom when I'm sick. Sometimes, I contemplate throwing away Tupperware because I just don't want to wash it. (If that's not some teenage shit, I don't know what is.) I don't understand W2s, W4s, or 1099s. I wear polkadot jumpsuits for GAWD'S SAKE.

I thought getting older meant listening to talk radio (well... I do love me some NPR), voting conservative, getting a practical automobile, knowing your right from your left, knitting, and understanding taxes??? And most certainly it meant saying NO to head-to-toe, enormous, obnoxious, polka dots on your ass.  Apparently not. Apparently, you can do all of those things and STILL get old.

Not that long ago I was walking down the street, coming from teaching a private Pilates lesson in uptown Charlotte. I'm in yoga pants, a tank top, sneakers, my hair is up like this, and I am carrying a yoga mat. I am walking towards a group of 5-6 boys ranging in age from 15/16 to 18/19 or so. I say "Hey guys" as I walk by. As I am passing them, one in the back turns around, raises his voice and says to me....

"Damn, girl.... you still got it!!!".

Ummmmmmmm. Excuse me? What the what??? "Still got it???" "STILL????" At first I was offended. Like, how the FK old do you think I am??? Then... it hit me. Old enough to be their mother. That's how old.

It's cool though. Life is MUCH better for me at this stage than it ever has been and I feel good. So... if I'm being called Ma'am, I guess I'll take it.

And to the boys who informed me that I "still got it". We are cool. No hard feelings. Just stay off my damn lawn, and don't go lighting fireworks after 10pm. I'll be in bed, with my $50 pillow that adjusts to and supports my fragile cervical spine. 

Shady B!tch

Romper: Vestique, Shoes: CRIV, Bracelets: Alex + Ani - gifts from my MIL, Earrings: Versona, Clutch: gift

"Jealously FKs with your light." - Cara Alwill Leyba

I'm assuming you just read that first line, right? Now... go back and read it again. I'll wait.

Jealousy FKs with your light.

WOW.

Have truer words ever been spoken? I doubt it. Jealousy is a bitch. A liar. It tricks you into seeing the desirable in other people, and normally means that you are looking at yourself, your image, your life through a lens of "lack".

It's hard out there. I get it.

It's always been a difficult task. To focus on your own shit. To appreciate your life, your gifts, your talents, and your strengths, your looks... but MAN.... I don't think it's ever been harder to do than RIGHT NOW.

We live in a world where we are BOMBARDED with images. Perfectly cropped, filtered, and selected (from a camera roll of 26 others that didn't make the cut). Shit... even the pictures I share with you on this blog. There are 15 others that got deleted because I didn't like them. It's not a big deal to select images that make you feel good versus bad, but it can, if not properly digested and considered for what it is, have you believing that other people have it somehow "all together".

I used to be a really jealous person.

I don't think I was aware of it at the time, but I was ALWAYS looking at other people (especially other women) wishing I had something they did. Wishing I could trade mine for theirs. When I was young, I wished my mom and dad were still together, I wished we lived on Heather Heights (a hill in my hometown where people with really nice houses lived). Growing up I wished I was skinnier, prettier, more talented; that I had money to buy my school clothes at The Gap.

I used to stare at a girl named Bridgette Fagnan in my 8th grade English class in her Gap jeans, and petite figure (that looked SO good and effortless in a bodysuit) and WISH I looked like that. I WISHED I could wear a bodysuit. I mean.... HOW WAS SHE SITTING DOWN IN A BODYSUIT WITHOUT BELLY ROLLS??? How does one obtain a ticket into that genetic lottery???

When I went to college, I envied the pretty girls. The ones who knew how to dress, how to do their hair and make-up. The ones who had nice figures and nice cars (in college???!!!). They looked so pretty in 8am classes with their hair effortlessly thrown on top of their head in an oversized, men's sweatshirts. (Meanwhile I'm wearing a baseball cap and wind breaker pants just trying to melt into the floor in the back so no one sees me until noon when I've at least taken the time to shower and put on my nicer wind breaker pants.) I was always looking at other people and making myself feel like shit comparing myself to them.

These are somewhat silly examples, and relatively normal, but if you don't become aware of them they can eat you alive. Manifest. Morph into soul-crushing thoughts and behaviors. It's normal to vie for the body of an 8th grade classmate, but I see it in adults more than I care to admit (and I still fight it). I see and hear people being MEAN. Straight up mean. Discussing other people's marriages, income, vacation photos, CHILDREN!! Grown-ass people are cruel when it comes to other people's children. It's nuts.

 Jealousy prompts us to make assumptions about others in an effort to make ourselves feel better.

If a woman is confident we tell ourselves that she must be stuck up. If she's successful and works outside of the home, she doesn't have her priorities in check. If she stays home with children, she will be judged for that too. If she's fit, she is conceded. If she has nice clothing/car/jewelry, we tell ourselves, that "I could have nice clothing too, but I don't CARE about that stuff because I am a martyr and give every ounce of myself to my family, children and I'm the last to get anything". If someone shares their love and relationship on social media, they are showing off. Taking selfies? Self absorbed. Making money? Greedy.

We judge because of envy.

I can proudly say that... at 38... I am no longer one of those jealous, trolling, women who get sick pleasure from hating on other women. I don't know when it happened exactly, but at some point I made a conscious decision to turn that shit around. One tool I use is really simple. I use it all of the time and I swear by it. It may seem ridiculous to you, but it works for me. What do I do?

I never waste a compliment.

That's it. If I think something in my head about someone that is complimentary, instead of being a jealous piece of shit and twisting it up in my head, I tell them. I give them a compliment.

For example. If I like someone's outfit, instead of wishing I had it, or that I could "pull it off" or afford it, or whatever. I simply compliment the person wearing it. "I love your outfit." Instead of scrolling past one of my friend's vacation photos because I am pissed that I'm not in Greece, I am liking the photos and commenting on them. Seeing women on IG who work hard on rock hard bodies. Click that little heart button, give them a "Yassss Bitch" in the comments and keep it moving. Before I was engaged and ANOTHER one of my friends got a gorgeous diamond, I was genuinely happy for them, congratulated them, and shared in their joy. Jealously blocks your blessings. I believe that with every ounce of my soul. So stop being a shady bitch.

Now... I compliment my friends, family, and acquaintances all of the time. I even compliment strangers. And when they look at me strange, or uncomfortably, I simply say... "I decided a long time ago not to waste a compliment. When I think something nice about someone, I tell them." 9 times out of 10, the person lights up. You never know what their insecurities are. You don't know when the last time someone, who wanted nothing in return, gave them a genuine compliment.

Trust me, friends, it feels SO much better to build someone up versus tearing them down. I promise you that. Allow someone else's success to simply show you what is possible inside of you.

"Jealously is very simply a lack of self-worth. Shift your energy. Search within yourself to understand the root of your fears. Enter that dark and lonely place. Find a way to love yourself. Then, emerge on the other side, ready to pull another woman out of her own despair. Show her how to love herself too." - C.A.L

Say You're Sorry

Jumpsuit: Forever 21 (yes, I am 38 - so what), Shoes: CRIV, Bracelets: gifts, Earrings: Versona

HOLA!!!

It's been a minute since I created a blog entry. Honestly? I hate cold weather clothing. So, until it warms up and I start wearing color again, there's nothing really that "fun" to share. If I blogged throughout the fall and winter it would look like the same pair of black leggings and 1 of 4 oversized sweaters every.single.time.

Warm weather though??? Maaaannnnnnn... I live for it. Give me all the prints. All the flowy material. All the straps... sandals... open backs... and obnoxiously loud color. Skirts? Maxis? YES. Sleeves? FK sleeves. I want no part of them. Get your sleeves DAFUQ outta my face.

Truth?

It used to be the other way around. I grew up and went WELL into my twenties.. and maybe even thirties...  feeling the complete opposite. I lived for covering up my body and could think of nothing MORE uncomfortable than summer clothing (or - gasp - a lack there of).

I grew up chubby, I have never been what you would call petite or small, and I used to <<foolishly>> believe that warm weather months were when other, more worthy (aka- thin) girls got to have fun with fashion while I suffered through it waiting for sweater weather. 

I'm not sure what changed, or exactly when it did, but now... shiiiiiiit?!?!? You can't tell me nothing. There's an enormous freedom that comes with beginning to love yourself. With not listening to societies "rules". With spending LESS time reading an article about "how to get a bikini body" and actually being IN a bikini enjoying life. Knowing that a "bikini body" is whatever body you have -- in a damn bathing suit. THAT'S the definition. That's it. It's not a lack of cellulite. Zero stretch marks. Or the absence of "muffin top" that give you the "right" to wear one.

It's amazing the bullshit we tell ourselves. The boxes we put ourselves in. The amount of time we WASTE worrying about not being, looking, or feeling "good enough".

Remember this...

Your stretch marks means you have grown (and in many times created LIFE inside of you).
Your belly being round means that you are a sensual, voluptuous goddess.
Hips... narrow or curvy... they allow you to stand tall.
Tiny boobs... consider yourself lucky. Big ones are a pain in the ass. 

No one gets to have an opinion on your body. And guess what... if you act like you love it... if you "fake it 'til you make it"... some day... you won't have to fake it anymore. You will actually love it.

SO... in my humble opinion (for what it is worth)... I think we should all stop wasting so much damn time. Stop giving a shit whether you look like the women in magazines and on Instagram. THOSE women do not even look like that. Angles, filters, and Photoshop are a muthafker.

Take care of yourself. Workout to be strong. Eat to nourish your body (and soul) and don't surround yourself with assholes who make you feel bad about yourself. Protect your energy, find your people, and for the love of all things holy.... stop saying shit to yourself that you would never DREAM of saying to anyone else. Stop being mean to your body. It's the only one you've got. 

Now... put your right hand on your left shoulder, and your left hand on your right shoulder and SQUEEEEEZE. Give yourself a damn hug and apologize. Say you're sorry.

Basic B!%ch: Bralettes and Booties

Jeggings: Old Navy, Sweater: Forever 21, Booties: Dolce Vita, Necklace: made from the silks of my bridal bouquet at Beads Inc in Charlotte, Bag: Tory Burch (a gift that I earned through my skincare business)

HAPPPPPY 2018 everyone!

#1. You'd think, maybe, I'd start the year off with an outfit post that was a touch more interesting, but alas...  this is what I am wearing. It's what I've been wearing for months actually (when I am not in yoga pants - which is RARE. Capital "R" ).
 If there were a list of Basic B!%ch Outfits for Fall/Winter I'm preeeeeetty sure this one would be front and center in the line up. I think you can get through two seasons of the year wearing a slight variation of it. "Jeggings"/Leggings: elastic waistband and all over stretch. Booties: a wee bit of heel (hello, booty lift) and to add some height, but you're not committing to like, real "high heels". Sweater: oversized and comfortable, do I have 6-pack abs under here? Perhaps I do. Or.... (and more accurate) perhaps I drank 3 times my body weight in Coquito over Christmas (a Puerto Rican drink with coconut milk, condensed milk, evaporated milk and a shit ton of RUM in it - thanks, Rico) and laid around asking ALEXA to "play Christmas music" so I didn't actually have to get up?

#2. If you look at the fourth picture from the top you can kind of see the bra(lette) I am wearing with this sweater. It's lace, racer-back and cost about $15.00. Can I please take a second to point out that although this time last year I was recovering from an INSANELY painful and debilitating breast reduction, now I can wear shit like this. This flimsy-ass bralette has a CUTE back and provides my (MUCH smaller) chest all of the support it needs. If you have always had small boobs you will not understand the thrill that comes with wearing a bra for looks versus utility. To all of my well endowed friends out there who have at some point longed for smaller boobs, can I be frank?  Dude...... it is everything you dreamed. No straps the size of your forearm, or clasps with 3-4 hooks on them. No $75.00 price tag. Found a cute backless sweater? No worries. Buy that shit. You can wear a bralette. I feel funny even typing that word out. Bralette.  I used to look at these things and wonder.... "what bitch can actually wear that??????!!!!!!" This one. This bitch. I know a lot of people love big boobs, fake boobs, voluptuous, Jessica Rabbit sex tape type boobs (and to each their own) but I.AM.NOT one of those people. Give me all of the bralettes! Give me all of the 15 dollar, cute lace, "light support", bra-lettes!

#3. This has nothing to do with clothing (or breasts), which seems to be the theme of this entry, but I had something happen to me about a month ago and it has nagged at me like crazy. I ran into a woman I have not seen in a while. We started chatting and catching up and she said (genuinely, very, nicely... w/o and ounce of detectable shade)... "I love seeing you on social media and keeping up with your perfect life. I am so happy for you." After I jerked my head back 6 inches, rolled my eyes, snarfed a laugh out of my nostrils, and contorted then fixed my facial expression I said, "perfect life???" Ummm. Not even close, why do you say that? She went on to just say that she loved seeing our wedding photos from this year, vacations that I "won" through R+F, and all of my Pilates posts. She said that my life looks perfect and she was happy for me. Although it was very sweet of her to say and I think she meant it in a very complimentary way (it's not her nature to be a dick) it really got me thinking. I mean, it's no shocker that social media is most people's highlight reel, but "perfect". Nah. I went on to say that I appreciated her kindness, but those wedding photos came after a 7 year courtship (6 of those years being bombarded with questions, judgement and pressure as to why we weren't married, what was "wrong" with us, and copious amounts of other bullshit). The R+F trips were not actually "won". There was no drawing or raffle. They were earned. Earned by working after my corporate job every night and on the weekends to build a business. One that many people don't take the time to understand, but that most have an opinion of. And Pilates... a year ago I couldn't hold plank or do a single push up (after 2 surgeries in 6 months). I was depressed about having to basically start over and feared that I had lost all of my students because me teaching had become so sporadic. I struggle with balance every single day and sometimes I fail miserably at taking care of myself and the most important people in my life. I also told her this (I had recently seen this quote and loved it so much that I committed it to memory):
"Social media won't see 95% of my frustrations. Why? Because I have friends, family, a partner ... (and a bomb ass group chat with my girls) that I talk to. It's not portraying one thing and living another. It's wisdom. Every experience is not for every audience."
Can I get an AMEN?

Again... HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! Let's make this our very, best one yet!!!