Remember how I said I was jealous of someone younger than me getting promoted faster than I was? How he got the office and fancy title to go with it? Then it hit me. It’s a damn good waste of time to be jealous over something that is, in the grand scheme of things, relatively trivial. I can be recognized for my achievements, and those of my direct reports, regardless of where we’re sitting. It doesn’t matter if there’s a door to close or we’re sitting in the parking lot. He’s a nice guy, he’s a good fit for the job, and all things happen in good time. I was told not to expect another promotion until late 2015 due to various politics, procedures, and budgetary concerns. I know my own worth and now I know what I’m worth to other employers. That’s something to be proud of regardless of what office real estate I occupy. Though sitting in the parking lot in July in Georgia isn’t much fun.
In other news, we’re about to finish Week 3 of the Couch to 5k program. I took a leaf from the half marathon training guide when we were out for our run yesterday. The guide suggested to run at a pace where you can still carry on a conversation. As a result, I added about a minute to my pace. Given the heat, it was probably a good idea. Even going out at 7p, it was still in the high 80s (29*C give or take). I *can* run an 11 minute mile, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. Plus, trying to carry on a conversation helps distract from the time spent jogging. Right now it’s just about making it across the finish line in an upright position. I can worry about speed later.
Here’s to hump day & I have a surprise in store for everyone tomorrow. Muahaha.
Y’all I have been having an awesome body week.
Last week was my first pole class. After much thought, I signed up for the 8 week series. I shoved all my excuses (“It’s too late. I don’t want to be in class that late!” “What if the other girls don’t like me?” “What if I’m the weakest one in class?”) to the side and signed up. There are all shapes, sizes, colors, and flavors. I can’t do a pull up, but I can stretch myself into shapes most people only dream of. I walked out smiling and that was the point. I still have a bruise on my knee from my first attempt at a spin. This week’s lesson is learning to properly walk in heels. Hilarity will ensue.
In that same span, Boy has decided to run a 5k. He gets a discount on his health insurance if he participates in some kind of fitness program. I thought “What the hell, I’ll come along”. We downloaded the Couch to 5k apps & have finished the first 2 workouts. Running for 60 seconds is way harder than it looks. Up a hill. In Georgia. In July. Now I see just how nuts my dad is for running marathons (Sidenote – he’s been home from the hospital for almost 2 months now. Woohoo!). We’ll get back sweating and panting with our various body parts screaming. Then once we’ve rehydrated and cooled off, it’s a case of “Fuck yeah! Go team! *high five*”. We’ll finish the program on the day of the race. Go team^2!
Lastly, I’m participating in Radical Self Love July on Instagram. It’s a set of suggestions from Gala Darling for things to post during the month. Day 1 was a ridiculous selfie (my soul cries a little when I write that down). Day 2 is post a picture of your idol and a brief explanation why. If you wish to follow my antics, I’m RetroIndieQueen. The bed head post day [July 25] will traumatize small children. You have been warned. If you want to join me on this month of insanity, search #radicalselflovejuly for the full list of ideas. All of this babbling brings me back to my opening line…
I haven’t once in the last week looked at myself in the mirror and thought “ew”. I’ll get dressed for work & think “Looking good, girlfriend”. I spent almost all of last week wearing heels to work after months of running around in flats. I can stash them in my desk and wear practical shoes to drive. Who knew?! I’ve tapped into some deeply buried part of me that was itching to be seen. I’m not a fade into the background kind of gal. Even before I had all the tattoos and a very distinctive personal style, the proverbial record player would screech when I walked into a room. Maybe it’s because I’m tall. Maybe it’s because I’m loud. Maybe it’s some unholy combination of the two with a dash of charm thrown in. My dad is the same way. You *know* when he walks in a room. I spent a long, long time trying to push that back. I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to be heard. I was too embarrassed by all the broken pieces that people didn’t even know existed. I lay it all out on here because it’s one less thing to be dragging around. It’s a lot harder to look good in heels when you’re dragging dead weight behind you. Don’t even think about running while dragging all of that shit. I can’t remember the last time I went an entire week without finding something to pick at. I’m taking care of my body in ways I enjoy. I’m taking part in a larger project that will involve me making an ass of myself on the Internet. That nasty little voice isn’t being heard over the fabulousness that is my inner RuPaul. Lord knows Ru can outdo pretty much anything. I’ll let her take over for a little while. Nasty little voice can keep chilling the hell out in the corner.
P.S. Lipstick totally makes it look like you made an effort. Try it sometime.