Oh, and what do we have here? 

So, if you didn’t know and you live under a rock – hey some of us might right now – but season 3 of Ozark was released on Netflix Friday. So, naturally we had to binge watch. Five episodes Friday night and 5 episodes Saturday night. So, yes, the whole season. Because that’s what everybody does, right? Thought so. 

Anyway, Saturday, as in last night, we were watching. I was sitting in my comfy TV watching chair and because we have been told not to touch our faces, I am constantly touching my face. Gah! Well, technically this was under my chin in the neck area. You know the area I am talking about. I know you do. 

It felt weird. Like something was attached  there. Something. Not sure exactly what yet. But I kept feeling for whatever it was. I would find it and then lose it and then find it again. Strange, I know. 

Then, the light bulb. The realization. The what the fuck is that? – set in. It was a fucking whisker. A hair. Yes, a hair. That sounds better, right? Women don’t get whiskers, geez. So anyway, here I am freaking out about this whisker. LOL

I ran to the bathroom trying to find it in the mirror. Shit. I can’t see anything. I ran to get my readers. Back to the bathroom. Man, the light sucks in there. I couldn’t see anything. But I could feel it. I could feel that coarse, disgusting piece of hair sticking out of my neck. 

In my best Ruth from Ozark voice – “John! Get your fucking ass in here and fucking help me find this fucking whisker in my neck?” Of course he came running. He’s such a good husband, so attentive to the needs of his wife. And of course, Ruth swears, A LOT. You really should be watching this series. 

Now we are both in the bathroom. The tweezers are out. The readers are on. He’s looking. He keeps cranking my head to get in the light. He spots it. It’s white. Thank God. No black whiskers on this neck. He keeps cranking and now can’t find it. I look at him and start laughing. He looks like a nutty professor with his thick reading glasses and the tweezer in his hand. I can’t help it. And, on top of it, I have to pee like crazy, because I have been drinking a shit ton of water trying to flush out the chocolate chip cookies I decided to bake in the midst of this quarantine crap. And who was I kidding? If I bake them, I’m eating them. Duh. When will I realize that’s what people do. That’s what we all do. So now I know at least I can’t bake during crises. See, there’s the positive. So I avoid peeing my pants, but I can’t stop laughing. By now we are both laughing so hard, the tears are rolling. Okay, I told him. I’m good. I won’t laugh. 

Back to the neck cranking. He told me to shut up. He does that sometimes. It’s not derogatory or anything. It’s what we do. We really do like each other. He found it again. He said he got it. I don’t think he got it. I can still feel it. “Shit,” he said. Now this time he tried to pluck it out with his fingers. Oh man that neck skin pinch felt awesome. NOT. We started laughing again. This time the tweezers came back into play. One more time. No laughing. For reals. I could feel the laughter bubbling up. I could feel my shoulders start moving. I could feel the tears in my eyes. I was dying. I couldn’t help it. Okay, again. Deep breath. Stillness. Here we go. 

FINALLY – the whisker was released. It’s gone. For good. Whatever, I’m sure it will be back. 

So, how was your Saturday night? 

I was 12. I thought I was a big shot. After all, how many other 12 year old kids had a job? It was technically my first job, because taxes, but I had done a ton of babysitting before that. I babysat from the time I was about ten (insert WTF face). Could a ten year old be trusted babysitting other kids and babies even? Parents, what were you thinking? But apparently, this ten year old could. 

But this was a real job. A fill out the W-4 kind of job. The you better be on time kind of job and the you need to count back change kind of job. I messed up a few times that I can remember. I feel bad about it. I know one time I gave someone one dollar too much. 

Car hop. I was a car hop. The Embers was the restaurant. Those of you who live in Pierre, the Embers was a burger joint and used to be where Wells Fargo Bank is now, and also across from Wegner Auto. 

My sister worked there and she basically got me the job. The Barth brothers worked there (soooo cute they were) and the Kaiser sisters. 

This place had the best burgers and the best drive inn food. You know the kind with the toasted buns – crunch on the edges…delicious! 

I got $1.10 per hour, plus tips. If I was a waitress on the inside of the restaurant, I got $1.50 per hour. I mostly car hopped. If a car drove up, one of us car hops went out and took the order. We took the order to the window and the order was prepared. When the order was ready we took it back out to the customer’s car and the tray was placed on their almost completely rolled down window or in between the window and the car door. 

I remember one particular order. I took the tray and was putting on the guy’s window. I spilled the food!! I was mortified. It was potato salad. Not only was I mortified I was also grateful that I didn’t spill the pop!! Not sure how I saved that. The guy was super nice and still gave me a tip. A 50 cent piece. Thanks guy. 

I was so excited to get my first paycheck. I knew exactly what I wanted to buy. Levis jeans. School was out for the summer and it was getting close to starting up again. My first paycheck was $44 and some odd cents. To me, I felt rich. I felt like that was so much money. I went to the bank and cashed my check. I then walked to the Sandvigs store. I knew exactly what jeans I wanted. They were boot cut. Faded. Not the normal wash faded, a little lighter. I bought two pairs of jeans. Jeans were expensive then. About $20 a pair. I spent my whole paycheck on two pairs of jeans. 

I learned a lot during that time. 

I learned how to treat people.

I learned what work ethic was.

I learned how to talk to people. 

My first experience with customer service. 

My first experience with freedom.

My first experience with you will be working the rest of your life now. Haha. 

It’s funny because John said he used to deliver hamburger there. We wondered if we ever saw each other…

How are you showing up for yourself?

As I am sure you know, we are always our toughest critic. We are ridiculously hard on ourselves when it comes to our bodies. How we look. How we see ourselves. You know the drill. There is not one person I know who has not said something negative about how they look. Why? Why are we so conditioned to hate ourselves? Why are we so conditioned to bad mouth ourselves? Why are we so conditioned to take a look in that mirror and talk shit to the person staring back? 

It’s interesting to me. We spend so much time shit talking ourselves. But when it comes to changing and getting results, we are the first to have a laundry list of excuses. Such a paradox. Especially as we age we tend to blame other things for our weight gain or how our body looks. 

We start with, well you know what happens when you turn 40. It’s all downhill. Getting old is hell. That’s what happens when you get older, you just get fatter. It’s my hormones. I mean come on, can you feel the heat from those hot flashes coming off my body. My metabolism is completely broken. I eat “clean,” so I don’t know why I can’t lose weight. I barely eat 1000 calories a day. I just need to work out more. That will do it. I know it will. 

We fail to take a look inside. We fail to blame ourselves. Why? I just don’t get it. We would rather blame everything else than do what we need to do to fix the situation. Take some responsibility. Show up. Change the way we eat. Eat less. It sounds so simple, but it is the answer. 

I did this for years. I blamed my hormones. I blamed my thyroid. I blamed my workouts. I blamed everything but myself. I was the only one who could do anything about it. I was eating healthy and working out. I gained weight and I kept on gaining weight. The truth was I was eating too much. We never believe we are eating as much as we are. Track it once and you will see. 

So I started really focusing on my nutrition and my workouts. I showed up for myself. I showed up and I did the work. I worked hard. I ate in a calorie deficit. I ate protein at every meal. I ate lots of fruits and vegetables. I was consistent. I was patient. I upped the weights on my workouts and I made sure to strength train at least three days per week. I love my Peloton bike and I love that type of cardio. I like doing it. I do bike rides every week and I walk or run on the tread once or twice a week. But I didn’t get the bike or the tread to try to lose weight. That never works. It is so true that you cannot out exercise a diet that is constantly in a calorie surplus. It does not work. 

I turn 56 in about 5 weeks and I can tell you I have never felt better. I have never been leaner. I have never been stronger. Age is just a number. I am aging with grit and grace and I love it. We should never be afraid to get older. We just get better. 

As you age and as you go forward in life, think about your future. Even if you are in your 20s, 30s, 40s or higher, it’s never too late to change. How do you want to show up? I want to be healthy and I want to be able to move without pain. 

Don’t know where to start? 

1. Move every day.
2. Eat in a calorie deficit if you are trying to lose weight. Track your food.
3. Strength train
4. Be Consistent
5. Be patient.
6. Clap for yourself
7. Cheer for yourself.
8. Talk nice to yourself.
9. Reduce your stress.
10. SHOW UP.