Tough. Love. In. Chicago.

Several years ago I was a part of a sales team of three that was made up  of me, a fabulous woman in Detroit, and a fabulous woman in Chicago.  We had two distinct seasons per year and at a certain point in each of those seasons we had to get aggressive with our own respective teams and my colleague in Chicago was tough.  Every season she would say “I’m giving tough love in Chicago this week” or “it’s time for tough love in Chicago” and I’ve been repeating it ever since when tough love becomes necessary.

It’s time for tough love in Chicago.

First, a side note, I know I’ve written about the need to be less hard on ourselves.  I just wanted to differentiate between being hard on oneself as a reality check (like today) and being overly hard on oneself because they forgot to send a snack to school in their little girls backpacks (two days ago).  There is a difference.  With that in mind…this here post is written with one person in mind and one person only.  And that, my friends, is the idiot typing.

Remember that 5k I signed-up for a couple months back?  I was pretty cocky then…feeling like it would force me to deal with my running “issues” in a more aggressive manner.  Yeah…well that 5k?  It’s Saturday.  I feel unprepared, nervous about my ability to run, and bummed that I’ll be a less respectable running partner to Aych.  Here’s an idea…and it’s groundbreaking so prepare yourself.  Find a doctor who can ACTUALLY help you!!!  Figure it out instead of lamenting.  Stop putting so much energy into figuring out what you can and cannot do at the gym and find someone to help you.  Jesus.  You’d think it was rocket science.

Can we talk about the 25 pounds for a second?  It’s still hanging on this frame of mine…not going anywhere.  After all that talk about getting my a-s into gear it hasn’t changed one bit.  Yeah, sure, maybe it’s related to the fact that I feel lost at the gym right now.  But still…it’s time to do something about it.  Heart attacks (and cute clothes) don’t wait for you to figure it out.  So figure it out.  Log into Weight Watchers, do what you need to do, and be done with it already.  There are galas this fall waiting for you to arrive in some lovely (hot) dress.  Lovely (hot) dresses and 25 extra pounds don’t mix.  Just sayin’.

And about this hair.  I’ve “wanted” to try brown hair for years but I did know in my heart of hearts that I’d regret it.  Oh it’s true and I know it.  I mean…let’s get real here.  I am, always have been, and always will be, a blonde.  Physically and at heart.  So what, exactly, was I thinking?  And now that I’m actually admitting that I hate it when I look in the mirror…can we please just go ahead and change it back?  I mean really, why waste one more day smiling when people say they love it but secretly feeling mousy and ugly?  I know it looks pretty but it doesn’t feel pretty.

And finally, this whole “woe is me I’m getting older” thing is getting old.  I’ve given myself a few weeks to feel sorry for myself.  The things listed above haven’t helped.  But it’s time to move on already.  For Christ’s sake.  And maybe there are deeper issues at hand that I’m ignoring…fear of getting older “just in case” we decided to have more kids, feeling like I should be more accomplished by now, and pure disdain for this f-cking wrinkle between my brows, but then address these issues head-on and get it figured out for crying out loud.  I’m so tired of hearing myself whine I could throw-up.

I’m sorry I’ve been so down…the combo of a decrease in exercise (I need exercise to stay sane), my birthday, the brown hair, and February in Minnesota (I might argue that MN in February is likely what hell is like) has turned this girl into a whiner.

It’s time to move on sister.  Get your head out of your a-s and remember just how good you have it and how awesome you actually are.

TODAY:  What if it’s time to get back on track and shed the negativity?

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