I spent last week getting over the plague. It was a slow recovery, but here I am! Alive! I can breath through my nose, and I can hear through my ears. Life's pretty good. But you know how sometimes you just need an ego boost more than anything else in the whole world? I needed that last week - and justice prevailed. I was complimented! Three times!
On Saturday, I clicked over to one of my favorite blogs the other day, to see that Sally had posted a list of some of her bloggy favorites. I clicked the link, thinking maybe I'd find a good read. Imagine my surprise when I got to the M's and saw:
Mid-Atlantic Mommy: This blog just makes me smile. Adorable pictures, great writing. She’s funny, witty, and charming.
WHA?! That's MY blog! Someone thinks I'm witty and charming! I make Sally smile! Thank you, Sally! I love reading your blog. I think you are a wonderful person (even though we've never met and so far I'm terrible at being e-friends with anyone). I am SO flattered to be on your blog roll! WOW!
So on Thursday, I happened to be wearing a tighter, low-ish cut shirt. It was hot pink, and I felt cute. My coworker (who happens to be one of my bestest friends) looked over at me at one point in the day and said, "Hey! Is that a new shirt? You don't look as bad in it as before!"
Um. What?! I don't look as bad in it? AS BAD? It's a good thing she's one of my besties, right? Because you don't tell a new mom that she's not looking as bad. Fortunately, after I scooped my jaw off the floor, all I could do was laugh. This woman has been going to the gym with me religiously for the last two months. She's the one who bullied me into joining the gym in the first place. She was trying to compliment me on the visual effects of my recent weight loss efforts. What she meant to say was "Hey! Is that a new shirt? You look great!" That's how I took it, as I walked over to give her a jovial hug.
And when I got home from work that night, still wearing a tight, low-ish cut, hot pink shirt, Hubby reiterated the compliment. He didn't even say hello. He just grabbed for my chest and started kissing. If that's not a compliment, I don't know what it.
Combined, the two compliments on Thursday are what got me out of bed at 5:45 the next morning to get to the gym for the first time in two weeks. I had skipped the gym while recovering from the plague. I was worried that I wouldn't go back. It's so easy to fall off that wagon. But I did go back. And I'm going back again tomorrow. I'm back on the gym wagon! And hearing such wonderful praise from Sally on Saturday? I am on cloud nine.
Compliments feel real good.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thank You!
I spent last week getting over the plague. It was a slow recovery, but here I am! Alive! I can breath through my nose, and I can hear through my ears. Life's pretty good. But you know how sometimes you just need an ego boost more than anything else in the whole world? I needed that last week - and justice prevailed. I was complimented! Three times!
On Saturday, I clicked over to one of my favorite blogs the other day, to see that Sally had posted a list of some of her bloggy favorites. I clicked the link, thinking maybe I'd find a good read. Imagine my surprise when I got to the M's and saw:
Mid-Atlantic Mommy: This blog just makes me smile. Adorable pictures, great writing. She’s funny, witty, and charming.
WHA?! That's MY blog! Someone thinks I'm witty and charming! I make Sally smile! Thank you, Sally! I love reading your blog. I think you are a wonderful person (even though we've never met and so far I'm terrible at being e-friends with anyone). I am SO flattered to be on your blog roll! WOW!
So on Thursday, I happened to be wearing a tighter, low-ish cut shirt. It was hot pink, and I felt cute. My coworker (who happens to be one of my bestest friends) looked over at me at one point in the day and said, "Hey! Is that a new shirt? You don't look as bad in it as before!"
Um. What?! I don't look as bad in it? AS BAD? It's a good thing she's one of my besties, right? Because you don't tell a new mom that she's not looking as bad. Fortunately, after I scooped my jaw off the floor, all I could do was laugh. This woman has been going to the gym with me religiously for the last two months. She's the one who bullied me into joining the gym in the first place. She was trying to compliment me on the visual effects of my recent weight loss efforts. What she meant to say was "Hey! Is that a new shirt? You look great!" That's how I took it, as I walked over to give her a jovial hug.
And when I got home from work that night, still wearing a tight, low-ish cut, hot pink shirt, Hubby reiterated the compliment. He didn't even say hello. He just grabbed for my chest and started kissing. If that's not a compliment, I don't know what it.
Combined, the two compliments on Thursday are what got me out of bed at 5:45 the next morning to get to the gym for the first time in two weeks. I had skipped the gym while recovering from the plague. I was worried that I wouldn't go back. It's so easy to fall off that wagon. But I did go back. And I'm going back again tomorrow. I'm back on the gym wagon! And hearing such wonderful praise from Sally on Saturday? I am on cloud nine.
Compliments feel real good.
On Saturday, I clicked over to one of my favorite blogs the other day, to see that Sally had posted a list of some of her bloggy favorites. I clicked the link, thinking maybe I'd find a good read. Imagine my surprise when I got to the M's and saw:
Mid-Atlantic Mommy: This blog just makes me smile. Adorable pictures, great writing. She’s funny, witty, and charming.
WHA?! That's MY blog! Someone thinks I'm witty and charming! I make Sally smile! Thank you, Sally! I love reading your blog. I think you are a wonderful person (even though we've never met and so far I'm terrible at being e-friends with anyone). I am SO flattered to be on your blog roll! WOW!
So on Thursday, I happened to be wearing a tighter, low-ish cut shirt. It was hot pink, and I felt cute. My coworker (who happens to be one of my bestest friends) looked over at me at one point in the day and said, "Hey! Is that a new shirt? You don't look as bad in it as before!"
Um. What?! I don't look as bad in it? AS BAD? It's a good thing she's one of my besties, right? Because you don't tell a new mom that she's not looking as bad. Fortunately, after I scooped my jaw off the floor, all I could do was laugh. This woman has been going to the gym with me religiously for the last two months. She's the one who bullied me into joining the gym in the first place. She was trying to compliment me on the visual effects of my recent weight loss efforts. What she meant to say was "Hey! Is that a new shirt? You look great!" That's how I took it, as I walked over to give her a jovial hug.
And when I got home from work that night, still wearing a tight, low-ish cut, hot pink shirt, Hubby reiterated the compliment. He didn't even say hello. He just grabbed for my chest and started kissing. If that's not a compliment, I don't know what it.
Combined, the two compliments on Thursday are what got me out of bed at 5:45 the next morning to get to the gym for the first time in two weeks. I had skipped the gym while recovering from the plague. I was worried that I wouldn't go back. It's so easy to fall off that wagon. But I did go back. And I'm going back again tomorrow. I'm back on the gym wagon! And hearing such wonderful praise from Sally on Saturday? I am on cloud nine.
Compliments feel real good.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
20/20
I squint a lot. I have a permanent crease on my forehead from the constant furrowing of my brow. I have worn glasses since I was 9 years old. I don't know what it's like to see with 20/20 vision.
Sometimes, as I squint at something in the distance trying to make a blurry image more clear, I wonder if maybe I am actually seeing in 20/20 and I just don't recognize it. Surely, there comes a point even for people with perfect vision where they just can't see clearly anymore. It's not like people can see off into the infinite horizons. So maybe it's normal when I can't see this or read that. Maybe I'm looking for clarity where none should be expected. Maybe my vision (as corrected) is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
I sometimes feel this way about my happiness. I am squinting my eyes, furrowing my brow, striving to feel a happiness I do not know. I never feel quite happy enough. Is my disatisfaction a normal feeling, or am I unhappier than most? Am I reaching for a level of happiness that isn't attainable? Am I trying to see clearly off into the distance? Maybe I am as happy as can be expected of anyone at any given time. Maybe my happiness is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
For a long time, I had a check-list of everything I thought I needed to do to make my life complete. Get a job. Get married. Get a degree. Have a baby. I checked each of those off my list, one by one; each was supposed to make me feel fulfilled and happy. Instead of feeling fulfilled and happy, I feel restless. Ok, I had the baby. Now what? Um, how about enjoy the hilarious, beautiful smart little girl? Maybe I should put that on my list: learn to appreciate the moment.
Maybe my life - my vision, my happiness - is 20/20 after all, and I just don't know it.
Sometimes, as I squint at something in the distance trying to make a blurry image more clear, I wonder if maybe I am actually seeing in 20/20 and I just don't recognize it. Surely, there comes a point even for people with perfect vision where they just can't see clearly anymore. It's not like people can see off into the infinite horizons. So maybe it's normal when I can't see this or read that. Maybe I'm looking for clarity where none should be expected. Maybe my vision (as corrected) is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
I sometimes feel this way about my happiness. I am squinting my eyes, furrowing my brow, striving to feel a happiness I do not know. I never feel quite happy enough. Is my disatisfaction a normal feeling, or am I unhappier than most? Am I reaching for a level of happiness that isn't attainable? Am I trying to see clearly off into the distance? Maybe I am as happy as can be expected of anyone at any given time. Maybe my happiness is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
For a long time, I had a check-list of everything I thought I needed to do to make my life complete. Get a job. Get married. Get a degree. Have a baby. I checked each of those off my list, one by one; each was supposed to make me feel fulfilled and happy. Instead of feeling fulfilled and happy, I feel restless. Ok, I had the baby. Now what? Um, how about enjoy the hilarious, beautiful smart little girl? Maybe I should put that on my list: learn to appreciate the moment.
Maybe my life - my vision, my happiness - is 20/20 after all, and I just don't know it.
20/20
I squint a lot. I have a permanent crease on my forehead from the constant furrowing of my brow. I have worn glasses since I was 9 years old. I don't know what it's like to see with 20/20 vision.
Sometimes, as I squint at something in the distance trying to make a blurry image more clear, I wonder if maybe I am actually seeing in 20/20 and I just don't recognize it. Surely, there comes a point even for people with perfect vision where they just can't see clearly anymore. It's not like people can see off into the infinite horizons. So maybe it's normal when I can't see this or read that. Maybe I'm looking for clarity where none should be expected. Maybe my vision (as corrected) is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
I sometimes feel this way about my happiness. I am squinting my eyes, furrowing my brow, striving to feel a happiness I do not know. I never feel quite happy enough. Is my disatisfaction a normal feeling, or am I unhappier than most? Am I reaching for a level of happiness that isn't attainable? Am I trying to see clearly off into the distance? Maybe I am as happy as can be expected of anyone at any given time. Maybe my happiness is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
For a long time, I had a check-list of everything I thought I needed to do to make my life complete. Get a job. Get married. Get a degree. Have a baby. I checked each of those off my list, one by one; each was supposed to make me feel fulfilled and happy. Instead of feeling fulfilled and happy, I feel restless. Ok, I had the baby. Now what? Um, how about enjoy the hilarious, beautiful smart little girl? Maybe I should put that on my list: learn to appreciate the moment.
Maybe my life - my vision, my happiness - is 20/20 after all, and I just don't know it.
Sometimes, as I squint at something in the distance trying to make a blurry image more clear, I wonder if maybe I am actually seeing in 20/20 and I just don't recognize it. Surely, there comes a point even for people with perfect vision where they just can't see clearly anymore. It's not like people can see off into the infinite horizons. So maybe it's normal when I can't see this or read that. Maybe I'm looking for clarity where none should be expected. Maybe my vision (as corrected) is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
I sometimes feel this way about my happiness. I am squinting my eyes, furrowing my brow, striving to feel a happiness I do not know. I never feel quite happy enough. Is my disatisfaction a normal feeling, or am I unhappier than most? Am I reaching for a level of happiness that isn't attainable? Am I trying to see clearly off into the distance? Maybe I am as happy as can be expected of anyone at any given time. Maybe my happiness is 20/20 after all, and it's my expectations that are flawed.
For a long time, I had a check-list of everything I thought I needed to do to make my life complete. Get a job. Get married. Get a degree. Have a baby. I checked each of those off my list, one by one; each was supposed to make me feel fulfilled and happy. Instead of feeling fulfilled and happy, I feel restless. Ok, I had the baby. Now what? Um, how about enjoy the hilarious, beautiful smart little girl? Maybe I should put that on my list: learn to appreciate the moment.
Maybe my life - my vision, my happiness - is 20/20 after all, and I just don't know it.
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