Night Visions
A few months ago I had a hard time sleeping. Sleep would just not come to me. I don’t know what was different. Nothing it seemed. It was making me anxious and annoyed and frankly, pretty damn tired in the mornings. I hated it. I …
Author: peggielarsen
Handstands for the break…
I practiced all the time. All the time. All the time. Obsessed. Obsessed. Obsessed. Handstands forever. Handstands for the win. Practice makes perfect, right? Until I broke my collarbone. Then it wasn’t so fun. Handstands for the break. I was 12. It was the Prospect …
Let’s try…
I sent out my weekly email on this morning and I got A LOT of comments, so I wanted to add to this a little bit and publish it here for my weekly blog.
The fitness industry is an interesting thing. The industry preys upon people’s weaknesses. The quick fixes, the pills, the powders, the wraps, always trying to persuade the public to buy them. Always promising they work. We know they don’t. We know it’s a farce. We all know it. I’ve told you a million times eating good food consistently and exercising consistently and practicing patience will make all the difference.
I want to unpack this a little bit more though. I want to know why are we always wanting to change how we look? Why do we let ourselves be defined by a number? Why do we let ourselves be defined by what others might think of us? Why do we spend seemingly our whole lives trying to change? What is wrong with us that we feel we need to? Think about those questions. Think about how you react to them.
We were always told from a young age to accept people the way they are. To accept our friends as they are. To not judge people. To not judge period. Yet, it seems like that happens more and more and more. People are getting judged for how they look or for how they don’t look. There are so many judgments being thrown at everybody. We are constantly judging ourselves as too.
When did that become a thing?
Growing up, I don’t ever remember my mom worrying about how she looked or what she weighed. I do remember my grandma, however, always worrying about her weight and how she looked. Has being overweight always been something to hate on? Or do we know being overweight is not healthy and that may be why we are constantly trying to change how we look? Let’s take it one step further. How did we get overweight in the first place? If we were eating healthy and moving a little bit each day how did we get overweight enough that we feel we need to change? What is the tipping point?
We spend so much time focusing on our appearance that we forget to live. We are so obsessed about if this outfit looks good or if that outfit makes us look fat that we totally lose ourselves. We miss out on so much LIFE because we are living in a world of judgment.
How about we try and live our lives and stop stressing about changing. What would happen if you weighed ten pounds less? How different would that make you feel? Why did you want that in the first place? I just wonder what is different. Your confidence? Your self -esteem? Your whole life? Why?
One of the comments I received from an email reader was that for her it is how she feels in her clothes and how they fit. She also does not care about the size, it’s how she feels. I totally agree with this. Who cares if we have a bigger or smaller size than the “ideal” size for those judgers of our bodies. If it fits and you feel comfortable, who cares.
Another reader said it was about health for her and not so much looks. I LOVE this statement. I think we all feel like we could be a little bit healthier. Me included. I enjoy my life though. If I go out to eat, I’m having the glass of wine. I’m not going to have 3 or 4 and I’m fine with that. I do not feel deprived at all. One is plenty. That took me a long time to figure out. I used to feel like one was not enough and the next one was too much. It’s all about perspective and mindfulness.
Another reader talked about how she feels way better eating healthier and working out consistently, yet will go back to eating not so healthy and then feels like crap. That usually stems from feeling deprived. That’s why I feel like it is okay to eat off plan. What usually happens is we are excellent eaters during the week and then here comes the weekend and the whole damn train derails. We feel deprived during the week and go all out like it’s our job on the weekend. Plan a few off plan meals or treats during the week and see if that doesn’t help you during the weekend.
We all want to look good. We do. Don’t pretend you don’t. Don’t pretend. But my point is find a place where YOU feel good and where YOU feel healthy and where YOU feel confident and then rock it. Don’t worry about what anybody else says or thinks. This is for you. Make sure you find your reasons for change. Make sure you want to change for YOU. And if you don’t want to change, awesome!!! I love that we have the choice. We have the power. Find your reasons. Whatever choice you make, make sure it’s your choice. Change or don’t change for YOU!
I also think we all need to be a little less hard on ourselves. We need to be a little bit nicer to ourselves. We need to back off a little and just live. We need to learn to live without constantly worrying about how we look. We need to stop obsessing. Live your life.
Let’s try.
Rest In Peace Mike
An old friend died today (April 10, 2018). Mike died today. I’ve known him since Kindergarten. A tiny, blond haired boy with glasses. I remember thinking his hair was as blond as mine. I liked that. Mike was the sweetest of boys. So kind-hearted. So …
Fear
What are you afraid of?
Does fear cripple you? Do you let fear cripple you? Does fear hold you back from life?
So many of us hold back from doing things because we are scared. We are afraid. We are fearful. Is that natural? Or do we learn to fear things? I really wonder.
Fear is defined as an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.
Although fear can apply to anything, let’s use an example of working out. Are you afraid to work out? What is it about working out that you are afraid of?
The most common things I hear are fear of getting hurt, fear of looking funny, fear of judgment, fear of not being good at it.
Those are all very valid fears. But I challenge you. Remember when we were little and we were learning how to tie our shoes or we were learning how to ride a bike or learning how to jump rope? We knew we couldn’t do it the first time we tried. We practiced, and then we practiced some more, and then we practiced some more after that. We live in a society of quick fixes and instant gratification. Getting good at something and overcoming fear is not a quick fix. It takes practice and patience.
Instead of being fearful of working out, embrace that fear and start practicing. You never know what will happen. If you are afraid of getting hurt, start slow. Start with walking. It’s pretty hard to get hurt by walking. If you are worried about how you look, start working out at home. Hire an online trainer or hire a trainer at a private studio. If you are fearful of not being good enough, everyone starts someplace. It is okay. A good trainer will guide you and help you learn proper form before throwing you to the advanced versions of exercises. If you are intimidated by a gym setting, start on the treadmill, using headphones or watching TV. You have already won half the battle by showing up. That is a huge step and not an easy step.
When you really want something and you are justifying not taking action because you are afraid and because you think things are out of reach, that is when you need to keep going. Nothing worth having is quick. It takes time. It takes effort. It takes failure. Failing is learning. Failing makes you stronger. Failure helps you. Don’t be afraid of failing.
A UK study showed that 75% of women put off exercise because they fear what others might think of them. Can you believe that? 75%! That is just crazy. We certainly are a judge-y society. The women polled said they were afraid of their appearance, their ability, and the fact that people would judge them as mothers for putting themselves first. Isn’t that sad? I think so.
Fear stops them. Fear stunts their confidence. Fear and more fear.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Half the battle is showing up. Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t let fear be an excuse. Take off that lampshade and shine on!!
I had to jump
The day was like any other. It was summer. It was the Euclid house. My brother and I were playing, like usual. We had a babysitter, like usual. We were doing stuff we weren’t supposed to, like usual. It was the blue house, just two …
I heard a whisper…
Today’s blog post was inspired by a Facebook post from a friend…thanks Ronn. Call it a whisper. Call it your inner voice. Call it a gut feeling. Call it a hunch. Call it fate. Call it God. Whatever you want to call it, it is …
Kid Friends – Branch and Peggie
It was the Euclid house. His house was the Oak house. We played together all the time. I spent a lot of time at his house. His name was Branch Wolf. Is that not the coolest name ever? He was in my grade. I just recently saw a second grade class picture that one of my friends (Ronn McDaniel) shared on Facebook. I kept looking at the row behind me and I kept looking at the guy with the glasses and red shirt, with the blue neck trim. I kept looking and looking and recognized the smirk or the half smile, or whatever it would be called. It took me a few days. I kept going back over it and looking at it and studying it. Until finally, it hit me. It was Branch. My kid friend, Branch. He is the fourth from the left in the picture in the back row. I am in the middle row, third from the left. And the best thing about this picture is that it is second grade and it was Mrs. Eklund’s class. My favorite teacher. I wrote a blog post about her a while back. You can read it if you want right here. https://peggielarsen.com/2017/04/26/mrs-eklund-was-my-favorite-teacher/
Branch lived a few houses down from our house on the corner. The corner of Euclid and Oak. He had such a cool house. Victorian. We played a lot of games. In the basement of the house there were a ton of games. It was a game storage room. Every game you could imagine. The kind of games where you had to use your brains and your imaginations. The kinds of games where you learned things. Educational games. He also had a ton of Hot Wheels. I can still smell the plastic Hot Wheels tracks that we put together to make roads. I also remember Monopoly and Sorry and Trouble.
I also remember a piggy bank he had. It was a First National Bank piggy bank. His dad worked there. The bank was cool. It was square shaped with a picture of the bank on one side and then just plain gold color on the other side. It had a tiny key to open it. They key turned and the whole back side of the bank came off. For some reason I really liked that piggy bank.
We played outside a lot. His driveway was kind of a hill. It seemed enormous. I drove by it a few months ago and it looked so tiny. It is so weird how when you are a kid everything seems bigger and faster and scarier. Summer days were fun. We played outside all day until dark most of the time.
We used to take the skateboards and sit on them and then zoom down that driveway out into the street. Luckily Oak was a quiet street. Luckily it was not Euclid or there would easily have been squished children or drivers having heart attacks.
One day during the summer, we had been playing outside all morning and it was getting close to lunch time. I was starving. His family offered lunch to me. The sandwich choices were liver or ham. I thought to myself, how amazing, someone else likes liver. I used to love liver and onions. Yummy! So, of course, without thinking there might be some other kind of liver, I said liver. We went in the house and there on the plate was the liver sandwich. Um, wait a minute. This didn’t look like liver. This wasn’t liver. It looked a little familiar. My dad used to eat it. The light colored disgusting paste-y looking something in a tube. The tube or outer wrap was kind of yellow orange in color. It was liverwurst. OH MY GOD! I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t eat liverwurst. I remember sitting there thinking. I was thinking how I was going to get out of eating the liverwurst. I can’t remember what I did. Ham was one of my least favorite lunch meats, so I am pretty sure I didn’t ask to switch. I may have eaten a few bites and then feigned fullness. Morale of that story is to have liver defined every single time it is offered. Every.single.time.
I think it was the next day or that afternoon we were playing outside again. We were playing with a ball. It wasn’t a basketball, it was one of those red playground balls. I always wanted to have one of those to take home. Those were the best. We used them at school for kickball and four square. We were playing on the driveway and just messing around with the ball. Bouncing and kicking. Kicking and bouncing. On the next bounce I leaned over to grab the ball and Branch went to kick the ball. Well, his boot landed right in my eye. Immediate shooting pain. My hands covered my eye and I started to cry. I know he felt terrible. He definitely did not do it on purpose. He was afraid he was going to get in trouble. I felt bad. But my eye felt worse. My first shiner. After the sting wore off and the bruising started to develop, I felt pretty cool. Very few people had black eyes. Very few. My journey to becoming a badass began.
The slow walk home…
We lived in the Euclid house. The elementary school was Lincoln. It was on Prospect Street. The school was about five blocks from home, almost all uphill. Up Central, up to the fountain on Broadway, and the weird connection of streets to the fountain, up …