The rise and fall of the bikini confidence

Today was an anomaly and then a disaster.

Last night, I started packing to go home/packing for Thailand and I tried on my bathing suit from this past summer. It was tighter than I remembered (thank you so much, grad school stress!). I felt icky in it and, honestly, a bit devastated that in such a short time I had outgrown my suit.

This morning, I woke up, felt GREAT about my body and decided to run with it and go find a new bathing suit. I was instantly reminded of one of my favorite tweets by Paula Pell:

I headed straight to Target, the enchanting place that does not exist in Vermont and will therefore be forever exciting for me. Once there, I beelined for the bathing suits (blindsiding my peripherals so I didn't get distracted and buy the whole store like I usually do). Picked out a bunch, hit the dressing rooms, and BOOM. One trip to the fitting room and 15 minutes later, I FOUND A BATHING SUIT I LOVE. It's a dark purple two-piece that made me feel awesome. I spent $40 on it, which is almost a week's worth of groceries, but I can justify that if I'm going to feel like a beach goddess. And do y'all know how rare it is for me (and every other woman I know) to actually want to go bathing suit shopping? And do you know how rare it is to actually find a good bathing suit without having to store-hop to 5 different places? And do you know how many trips back and forth from the fitting rooms it takes before you finally find "the one?" Today was actually a miracle. A Christmas miracle.

But then this evening, a friend of mine posted a picture from her vacation and her abs made my jaw drop. My earlier self confidence plummeted and it felt like I was falling alllllll the way back to square one in my body acceptance journey.

And that's what it's like, folks. Body acceptance is hard. It's hard to look at someone else and not compare yourself to them. It's hard to maintain your self-love when your perceived flaws are sometimes what you see first. It's a constant battle to appreciate my body the way it is instead of hating it for what it is not.

I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow or the next day and be back to feeling like a beach goddess, so I'm not really at square one and I'm not worried about staying stuck here. It's an ebb and flow. But goddamn. I can't wait until the day I can desensitize to things like this.

Movie Dates with Self.

There is really nothing as wonderful as going to the movies by yourself. Especially matinees. They're cheap, usually empty, and then when it's over, the day is still young and there's time to sneak into another movie. It is a win/win situation.

I took myself on a date to see Interstellar yesterday and it was exactly what I needed. I must look like a crazy lady every time I go. I bring a huge tote bag full of snacks (twizzlers, corn nuts, chocolate covered peanuts, microwavable popcorn, dried mango and pineapple, etc), a bigass scarf to wrap around myself because 1) it always gets cold, and 2) it's comforting to mummify yourself in the dark, and then I let myself feel everything that comes across the screen. Everything. For example, the emotions started up early yesterday when a holiday commercial came on before the trailers and it was so happy and family-oriented, I just stared tearing up. If you've made it this far into the paragraph, I bet you'll never go with me to the movies ever again. That's fine, I'll just keep going by myself.

Interstellar was absolutely stellar. It was almost 3 hours of edge-of-your-seat peril with some family sappiness thrown in. I cried quite a bit. When I go see a movie by myself, there's no one next to me judging me about how choked up I get when people break up or if someone's in danger or how I start bouncing around everywhere when something nerve-wracking is happening. I mean, there are people judging me, but who gives an eff, I don't know them. Let them watch me stuff snacks into my face and listen to me audibly gasp and sob when something goes wrong.

I LOVE IT. I LOVE THE  MOVIES.

SCREW EVERYTHING: Part 2.

The good news: got my wonky back license plate fixed!

The bad news: my tiny finger-length windshield crack is now an enormous windshield-width crack.

I started heading to the Honda dealership in Greeley to have them check out the headless screw that got stuck in the screw-in part (that's actually the most accurate way to describe it) and over the course of the 15 minute drive, I watched my windshield crack grow. And like, I was ALREADY upset about the crack, so seeing it inch across my windshield every few minutes was awful and there might've been tears and also some terrifying daydreams about the whole thing just crashing in on me as I'm cruising down Route 34 and me ending up with 1) a totaled vehicle, 2) glass shards in my eyes, and 3) a lot of people crowding around and shaking their heads.

Fortunately, none of those things happened, although the 3-foot crack is still very real and I doubt I will be able to control my imagination whenever I'm driving.

Anyway, the license plate ended up being quick and relatively painless. I say relatively because that place was WEIRD. I walked in and everything was bright white and pristine and there was absolutely no one there. After waiting silently at the welcome desk trying to figure out whether I should start wandering around and opening doors, a woman with David Bowie hair (circa 1970's) and a horrendously bright blue outfit appeared and talked to me like a five year old. And instead of being like, "HEY I'M AN ADULT," it made me all stuttery and fumbly and possibly Texas twangy. Honestly did not know how to react or converse with this woman. I finally got the point across that I needed license plate help, so she sent me to the other side of the building to "Services."

Very similar to this, actually.

Grateful to be done interacting with an alien, I pulled my car up to "Services" and waited at the desk while the guy behind it tapped impatiently and scribbled on paperwork. Finally, he gestured at me and I stepped forward and let out a bunch of word vomit about screw drivers and breaking things and expired Vermont plates. He didn't once make eye contact with me, which was WEIRDWEIRDWEEEIRD. But he worked his magic, got the stuck screw out, attached my license plate, and even put the heat on so the car would be warm for me-- ALL FO FREE. I smiled at the guy, but he was too busy not making eye contact to see it, so I just rolled outta there lickety split.

And that's the story.

SCREW EVERYTHING

I always seem to break down in this one coffee shop. The same ginger-haired, newsboy cap-wearing, beatnik guy with John Lennon glasses is always working and I swear he's seen me cry more than several times. Once when I was too homesick to function, once when my bike got stolen, once when I had an impossibly hard book editing assignment, and today when the stupidest car problems have me running all over town. I have not interacted with him more than giving him my coffee order, and yet he has been witness to more of my bad days than most people. Sorry, dude. I'll try to keep the tears to a minimum over here.

The car problems started on September 23rd. That was the day I got my Colorado plates and also the day I forgot about my Colorado plates. Whoops. They've been in my glovebox since then and every once in a while I'd remember and be like, "Oh man, I should really change those." But did it ever happen? No. One thing I've found since starting grad school is that all that matters to me is surviving school and staying sane. That means that adult things like cars and bills and residency requirements get put to the wayside and if something goes wrong it's a TRAGEDY because I don't allot time or energy for things so low on my priority list.

This past Thursday, I parked in a lot that apparently had a time limit (Y'ALL NEED BETTER SIGNS AROUND HERE) and got a $20 parking ticket AND a $50 fine for having expired plates. Whoooooooooooooooooops. So I paid my fine, it sucked, whatever. But then when I went to change my plates this morning, one of the screw heads chipped off and left the screw-in part of the screw inside the screw hole (I don't even know how to describe that better. Figure it out). So I got my front plate on a-okay and I got my back VT plate OFF, but I can't get the new one on because there's part of a screw in the screw hole. Ya get me?

I took my car to a repair shop and the guy looked at it and was like, "Wow, that sucks. Can't help ya." And I couldn't think of anything to do except come to this coffee shop to cry and possibly get another ticket since my car doesn't have a back plate.

I'm gonna call the Honda dealership today and see what they have to say for themselves. Maybe I'll get a new car!!!!!!!!! More realistically, maybe they'll figure out my screw situation. I don't know. They're my last hope before I start slamming my head into walls.

ALSO. A crack showed up on my windshield out of nowhere. Didn't hit anything, nothing dramatic happened, it just showed up. Called for cost repairs and it turns out I need to get the whole damn thing replaced. This is an expensive car weekend, lemme tell ya.

MORAL OF THE STORY: SUCK IT UP AND CHANGE YA DAMN PLATES BEFORE THE PLASTIC GETS ALL WONKY AND THE SCREW GETS STUCK IN THE SCREW HOLE, LEAVING YOU SCREWED.

The story of the worst weekend in recent history and how I made up for it in one afternoon

This past weekend was quite possibly the most stressful of my life. I was given an impossibly hard task and spent two full days thinking I was too incompetent and unintelligent to complete the task, for which I had no training and no written instructions. Turns out, I'm NOT a failure (!!!), it was the assignment that was unfair. I spent the weekend literally sick with stress and spent so much time and energy wallowing.

SO. I'm making up for it. Rebuilding all the self-love I tore down for two days and taking time to restore to normal levels of stress (which are still too damn high).

Today, I took the afternoon off. Got myself lost and ended up in Boulder. Hiked around Chautauqua Park. Ate a ton of pesto pasta (my first (successful) pesto attempt). Watched more than one episode of a show because I had forgotten what the luxury of binge-watching felt like. Bought the sparkliest nail polish I could find (makes me feel like a mermaid). Didn't even LOOK at my to-do list because that stuff can wait sometimes.

Check out that rainbow, yo.

REMINDER TO MYSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE, TOO: TREAT YO'SELF. That does not necessarily mean buy that really expensive thing you want, it means remember that you deserve more than you might be giving yourself.

Here's my list of treat m'selfs that I'm stickin' to:

1. Setting a time each week to drop everything and watch American Horror Story with Jack. 
2. Buying Green Mountain coffee instead of the generic kind because it feels like home, even if it's a bit more expensive and the only options are hazelnut and half-caf. 
3. Getting out of Greeley at least once a week. For my sanity. Even if it means just driving 20 minutes to Loveland and seeing the mountains in the distance.

Making tiny adjustments can make a huge difference. I will NEVER (probably) have another weekend like that one. 

Rest, Recharge, & STUDY MY BUTT OFF

This week is definitely one of the most stressful weeks of grad school as of yet. Two exams this week, one next week and a big ol' paper due on top of that. Everyone handles stress differently. I'm currently working on choosing how to handle my stress. I don't want to be helpless to it, I want to be able to channel it into something productive.

It usually comes out in tears, sometimes in cookie-eating, sometimes on other people, which I HATE. I hate when other project their own frustrations onto others. It's not fair, it's not productive at all.

This morning was a perfect example of how I wish I could handle stress all the time. I've got a big exam tomorrow, so I let myself sleep in past the time I usually go to the gym and instead did a home yoga workout. Then I made protein pancakes and made myself get through at least 2 flashcards before flipping each pancake. I went through the whole stack of flashcards before the pancakes were even done and then I let myself enjoy them flashcard-free. Another quick read-through of all the flashcards and then I fried up some wontons for lunch so that I could go straight from class to the coffee shop to keep on the study grind.

About to head to class. I've already been up for three hours, but I feel calm, stress-free, and less-panicked about the exam tomorrow. I'm not ready yet, but treating myself to a low-key morning recharged my studying batteries and I'll be ready to go again soon.

YAY GRAD SCHOOL, I'M TIRED

Vestibular testing and cheese.

Yesterday, I helped out with one of the upper level grad classes by being their vestibular testing guinea pig. They were doing the "caloric reflex test," testing the vestibulo-ocular reflex, which helps stabilize images on the retina. It involves wearing these big-ass goggles that track your eye movements and laying down while a continuous stream of water is squirted in your ear to flood the canal and purposely make you dizzy. The professor had me lay down and the goggles had me in complete darkness. I was visibly nervous, so she said "it feels sort of like a night of drinking. Some people pay for that feeling, you know." I laughed haaaard, and then the water hit and after 20 seconds or so, I got dizzy. It felt just like having the spins. I could feel my eyes wiggling around trying to find something to focus on, which is the point of the test. It measured and graphed my eye movements, which basically showed that my reflex is normal and blah blah. I got chocolate at the end. 

So that was yesterday. 

Today, there is not enough cheese in the WORLD. There's too much work and not enough cheese. Never enough cheese. Also, I didn't realize how good we had it in Vermont with Cabot. Generic grocery store cheese is not really cheese, it's like a tasteless sponge that is artificially orange and wrongfully labeled extra sharp when in reality there is no sharpness at all. Wannabe, faker cheese. Rant over. For now.