Motivate | thesmartlychicago.com

True Self

July 27, 2011 By Addison Renick 2 Comments

I have a great boss. She is funny, nice, a good friend, extremely smart, and a lot of fun. But she has some flaws.

For instance, she is a total train wreck! And I mean that in the best possible sense of the the phrase. Though in her late forties, she still hasn’t grown up. She parties pretty hard…when she walks in to work with a huge coffee, pancakes, eggs, and bacon for breakfast from the nearby cafe… followed by a huge hamburger and fries for lunch I know that she was out late last night. Those are also the days that she comes in looking the most disheveled. Hair in a messy ponytail (and not fashionably messy), no makeup, and baggy clothes. One day she even had two different shoes on!

Another one of her flaws is she is not very patient and she is quick with her tongue. She will just come right out and call someone an idiot to their face. And if you listen just right you can hear it creeping up in her voice. Her sentences become shorter, her tone becomes nastier, and then she strikes… it’s a verbal slashing.

But these aren’t the worst of her flaws. Her main flaw is that she does not see herself for who she truly is.

She has no idea how she acts or looks when she comes to work hung over. She has no idea how she comes off to people when she is in her stressed out, mean state. She doesn’t understand why people feel she is hard to work with. Literally no idea.

One afternoon she and I were having a private conversation about something unimportant and she asked me why people don’t seem to respond to her well. And I told her. Because we have a good relationship and because I know she loves me I told her. I told her it’s because she can be mean to them, that she verbally slashes them, and that she can be very impatient. And do you know what happened next…she looked away from her computer and stared at me with these huge puppy dog eyes and said “what?” She honestly couldn’t believe what I had just said. I could see it in her eyes…I had just hurt her feelings and she was truly sad.

That was the moment. The moment I realized she didn’t see herself for who she truly was and how her actions affect people. She has never grown up past that childhood stage when you don’t understand how your words or actions have consequences.

After looking into her eyes I immediately back tracked saying things like “it’s OK you were frustrated” or “it’s OK because they were wrong”. I couldn’t stand seeing her so upset. But that moment has always stuck with me. I now constantly check myself to make sure I am seeing myself for who I really am. Evaluating my words and actions against what I say I believe or who I say I am.

I once read a story in college about a woman who thought every advertisement she saw was true. This product really would make her happy, this hair dye would really turn her otherwise black hair into a soft shade of auburn. And when she tried the hair dye all she could see was the beautiful auburn colored hair on the picture; not what it really looked like on her head.

The story was so sad because the woman was completely blind to her true self, her true life, her true hair color. Just like my boss is totally blind to how she acts and affects people when she is hung over or in her stressed out, mean state. I never want to make this mistake. I never want to be blind to my true self. Never. Never. Never. Even if I don’t like what I see, I want to see it. Because that is the only way I can make change and improve myself.

Filed Under: Motivate

Unwritten

July 20, 2011 By Dashing Gray 4 Comments

In grad school, ProDevo (professional development) was a phrase I heard a bit too often. It sounded, in theory, like a good idea to join conference committees, write journal articles, attend meetings, etc., but I was overworked, underpaid, and constantly exhausted. I had no time or energy for extras, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the usefulness of grad school–a venture undertaken solely for the purpose of developing professionally–if I was supposed to pursue external ProDevo all the time. If anything, I was interested only in pursuing things that were decidedly non-developmental.

Now that I’m a professional, ProDevo—beyond what is naturally part of the job—is virtually nonexistent. Like everyone, we have no funding for just about anything—traveling least of all. I dream of attending a national conference to get ideas for my job, but I can’t go without significant cash outlay on my part–a plan that probably sets a bad precedent.

Not long ago and firmly situated in NoProDevo-land, I hired a student worker. My supervisor had encouraged me for months to do so, but I had never supervised anyone and was anxious about it–I was still figuring out what I should be doing, much less trying to supervise someone else.

What I failed to realize then was how valuable the experience would be. Mentoring her also mentors me. Talking to her reminds me that a year ago, the security of a full-time job, a house, and a fiancee didn’t exist for me. It makes me appreciate how far I’ve come, but it also reminds me of the sheer exhilaration of possibility. Where I was once paralyzed by life’s many options, she is energized. Her constant desire to add more to her life—more jobs, more internships, more student organizations, and more experiences—reminds me of the set-aside goals I had in grad school and that I can finally pursue.

In her own way, she has guided me back to writing—something that was once a joy of mine but was tainted by a soul-sucking professional experience. When I left that first job in disgust, I lost sight of why I liked writing in the first place. I lost all interest in the whole concept; I could only associate writing with the unhappiness and frustration of a bad situation. I shelved my prior enthusiasm and told myself I would write when I had more time.

And here the time is. The opportunities presented themselves. I started over by again writing for myself and developing a blog that saw me through the second half of grad school. From there, I had inadvertently developed a portfolio I could showcase in future pursuits.

I’ve joined a community blog and am in queue to be a part of another. Partially I hope to expand my audience and enhance my resume, but mostly it’s just exciting to know that others read my work.

And so my ProDevo may not look like the ProDevo of my grad-school cohort. It may not [literally] afford for attending expensive nationwide conferences and expanding my student affairs network. But I am expanding my network and growing all the same.

My student worker has brought me to understand something I may have already known but had lost through years of “shoulds.” Her many aspirations remind me of something that deep down, I already knew—that it all starts with a blank page.

Filed Under: Motivate

Crossroads

May 11, 2011 By StaceyRobinson 2 Comments

I have a friend who is going through some big and scary stuff: life-altering, soul-changing, potentially transformative and possibly transcendant stuff. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what will happen. I feel so alone,” she said. Her pain was palpable.

God, I know that place. That sticky, scary place. Crossroads? I wish it were as simple as that! That place isn’t a fork in the road; it is a whole service for twelve, all jumbled and junk drawer worthy, a snake pit of messy choice. It isn’t dark. Dark implies the possibility of something not-dark. This is the total absence of light. It is a teetering precipice, the pain of the present licking at your feet, coiling upwards, the fear of the unknown breathing hot and harsh on your skin.

This place is alone.

Her words take me back to my early days in a twelve step recovery program. I spent hours in the rooms, on beat-up couches, drinking horrible coffee, breathing in air that reeked of cigarette smoke and bleach. Hours upon hours of shiny happy people and their endless chatter, who had miraculously been plucked from the depths of their despair and given new life. New hope. And they passed it on to me. Headier than any wine, more intoxicating than any drink I’d ever guzzled. Hope. In the telling of their stories, I found hope.

“I’ve been there,” they all said, in some iteration or other.

No fanfare, no drama. Just this quiet moment of intimate connection. They’d all been there— that same place where I had stood, rooted and lost and broken and alone. It may have looked different from the outside– some talked of boardrooms on Wall Street, others of a curb along Madison Avenue– those exteriors were facades that hid our utter devastation from public view. How could I not find healing in these words? How could I not take hope? They sat pretty comfortably in their own skins, putting one foot in front of the other. Moving, acting, choosing, deciding. Feeling. Feeling everything. Not drinking. Not drinking. And they shared that all, with me, with each other, every day, endlessly, hour after hour. It got so I believed I could do all that too.

And then they left and I went home. Alone. Home, to an empty apartment that echoed. Home, to sit and think and climb the walls, to feel the silence pound. While I didn’t crawl into a bottle, I climbed into my head, taking strange refuge in that nightmare landscape. In the end, I stand here alone. For all their laughter and sharing and connection, I come home alone. And who will be there to catch me when I fall, when I fail?

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what will happen. I feel so alone.

That place. That fear. That place that is absent of light. I know this place all too well.

In the end, we are all of us alone. But here’s the miracle, that bit of grace within that singular moment of clarity: there are breadcrumbs. Strewn along that rocky, tortuous, treacherous path, with all its traps and quicksand and trails that go nowhere and the scary monsters who hide behind poison-spitting trees, there are breadcrumbs. There are stories and connections and hope, left for us by those who’ve gone before. And if we’re lucky— really, really lucky— there are hands to hold in the darkness, torches placed along the way.

Yes, I take my leaps alone. Yes, even now, I can stand rooted in the muddy, messy Middle, unable to go back, afraid to move forward. But there is hope. Grace. Hands to hold, torches that shine. And should I fail, should I fall, I will be caught. God, or some Higher Power whose name I don’t yet know will allow me rest and comfort until I’m ready to go it again.

I’m here, I tell my friend. Feel free to fly, to fall. To hope. I’ve been there my friend. I’ll be waiting for you, breadcrumbs in hand, and hope enough to share.

Read more about Stacey’s forays into hope and the unknown here: http://staceyzrobinson.blogspot.com

Filed Under: Motivate, Spirituality, Uncategorized Tagged With: motivation

Everything but…

May 8, 2011 By Dashing Gray 4 Comments

“I’m not saying that everything is survivable.
Just that everything except the last thing is.”

~Quentin Jacobson, Paper Towns by John Green

In speaking with a student today–an ambitious young woman who has endless creativity and enthusiasm and maturity beyond her years–I discovered that she was “sort of broken up” with her boyfriend of 6 years. He sees their recent history as her distancing herself from their relationship; she sees it as taking time out to figure out who she really is.

I commend her for this. The better you know yourself, the more ready you can be for a relationship because you are coming into it as one whole person–not a half of a person who seeks the other.

Yet she feels guilty about the whole thing. She is constantly being told by friends that she is selfish and foolish because she is not devoting enough time to “her man”–the man who, by the way, these same “friends” insist she needs to marry ASAP.

I feel for what she’s going through. It is hard to be a young woman, even in the advanced-technology, improved-womens’-rights era of today. The truth is that no matter how far women have come, people will always question us. Friends and family will want to know why we can’t just settle down already. The enormous wedding industry will tell us how we should run everything for “the big day” (consequently reminding us that there is no question about whether or not we should have said day). Womens’ magazines–I’m looking at you, Cosmo–will always focus more on men than women. All this mixed with our own fears, insecurities, and worries that we’re not doing things “right,” or that we’ll die alone.

And then there are all the choices. We live in a fast-paced, information-saturated society that is more advanced than any before it. We have access to countless ideas instantaneously and constantly–all in the palm of our hands. While the generations before were expected to take a job–with limited options, if you were female–for the rest of their lives, we have an overwhelming cornucopia of opportunities at the beginning of our careers and throughout our lives.

Yet with these opportunities comes a price. It’s a paralysis that seems to particularly affect the most ambitious and analytical of women. We see everything. We want to do everything, and we want to do it perfectly. We’ve been told since birth that we can do anything.

But the paralyzing truth is that we can’t. There are still barriers in our lives, in ourselves, and in society that keeps us from doing everything we want to do.

Once, there was the metaphorical path in the yellow wood. A path, and an elusive second option. Today, there is a multi-lane freeway in those same woods. They’ve ripped down the trees and radiated roads out in all directions. And as we stand at the center of all those roads, looking out further than we ever could before, we realize that eventually, we’ve got to pick one. Because we have to move forward in our lives. Because not picking one really isn’t living. Because we’re ambitious and we want to grow.

But we stand in those woods for a long time, struggling to choose our path. We eventually realize that, in opening some doors, we close others. We can’t do anything because we want to do everything. We’re meticulously hand-crafting the lives we want for ourselves, but there are too many question marks.

But that doesn’t mean that life isn’t worth the journey, even when saying “yes” is more terrifying than saying “no.” Because, dear student, there are countless choices out there. We can read and research forever. We can take in countless facts and advice, but eventually we must act. And when we act, things may not turn out the way we had hoped. But they will be real. We will be moving forward in the highway of life, and new exits and opportunities will pop up along the way.

And the truth is, not everything is survivable.

Just everything but the last thing.

Filed Under: Misc, Motivate, Nostalgia, Relationships, Spirituality

Hey, Baby

April 29, 2011 By Amy 4 Comments

“Hey, Baby,” he called out to me as I walked past. I knew who he was. How could I not? He went by one name only and had a reputation. A reputation of his clients begging for mercy, pleading for the pain to stop. He was a personal trainer.

I first heard of him about five years ago. Another mom mentioned his butt kickin classes. I hadn’t worked out in almost 4 years due to those little people that invaded my house. Maybe it was time to get back into it. A month later, I gave it a try.

What. A. Mistake.

The arm strengthening class was non-stop, with no rest in between bicep, tricep and shoulder reps. My muscles throbbed. I down-sized to lighter weights, thinking this would get me through the remainder of the 30 minute class (of which I was only 10 minutes into.) He noticed the switch and immediately placed heavier weights into my struggling hands. I tried to protest, but my words fell on unsympathetic ears. I had no choice but to leave the class. I had a baby to lift, a preschooler to play with, a house to clean and food to be prepared. Rubber arms would not be able to muster the strength. I was singing Duffy’s tune just like the others.

Fast forward several years and YES, I had become a regular at the gym. I exercised almost daily. I had to, unless I wanted to spend the very short time the children were in preschool wandering around Costco, spending too much money at Target or hanging out at Starbucks. At least there are reported benefits from exercise. One benefit not mentioned in scientific journals is that a kick butt personal trainer would start greeting you with “Hey, Baby,” every time he saw you. And that non-existent article would not mention that somehow those two words would do more for you than they would if your husband had uttered them.

You have to understand that we were not on a first name basis. He was not trying to jockey for a new client or pick me up. (HA!) I noticed that he used this greeting with other women I knew who exercised. I applied mathematical reasoning and deduced that “Hey, Baby,” was a compliment that I had earned from putting my fitness needs first. It was a two word motivator that could only be spoken by him that made a difference in my time at the gym.

That all came to a screeching halt when I returned to work briefly last year. My daily visits to the gym ceased. So did the “Hey, Baby” comments. The months following were filled with packing, moving, unpacking and getting settled. I was about as fit as a contestant on day one of The Biggest Loser. But I had to prioritize. Finding the dishes, towels and shampoo trumped the elliptical trainer. Besides, I now had stairs. I was partaking in the original StairMaster workout by default.

Soon enough, I found myself back at the gym. I ran into Mr. Tall, Dark and Muscular trainer, but he only greeted me with, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” I told him I had moved. “Welcome back,” he said before turning to his client and ordering her to jump up onto the weight bench sixteen times, convincing her that she could do it. (She couldn’t. ) I wasn’t part of the “Hey, Baby” crowd anymore and I felt left out. That was almost seven months ago. Guess it’s time to get started. Again. I wanted to hear “Hey, Baby”.

Filed Under: Humor, Motivate Tagged With: change, exercise, motivation, self esteem

A Light in the Darkness

April 21, 2011 By StaceyRobinson 4 Comments

Long ago, I quit Graduate School to become a political activist. I had been working on my PhD in Early Modern English History. Tudors and Stewarts and Puritans, oh my! I was gung-ho, until I realized that almost the only people who care about Early Modern English History are other Early Modern English historians. I gave up my full Fellowship to–as my parents so eloquently put it– become a professional street walker and beggar.

I was filled with the passion to fight the Good Fight. I was Don Quixote, but I was going to win my battles rather than tilt at stray windmills. Five years and several thousand miles later, having traversed the country a dozen or so times, I quit the national poor people’s organization for whom I had been working, a little bedraggled, a lot broke and much bewildered. I kept looking around for all that I had accomplished, that we, as an organization, had accomplished, and saw… the detritus of really good intentions.

We fought to give people a voice, to find power in numbers. We got a few stop signs. A handful of crack houses boarded up or torn down. We got enough press that Mayors and Police Chiefs learned to take our calls and listen to our demands. Mostly though— we demonstrated on bread and butter issues that fed our souls and fired us up. I was so determined to Save The World and Make A Difference, but I was drowning in a sea of windmills and broken lances.

The issues that plagued us twenty-five years ago, when I was young(er) and rousing rabble eighty hours a week or more— they’ve grown. The rift between the Haves and the Have Nots is wider and more treacherous than ever. Poverty. Ignorance. Hunger. Disease. Global Warming. Hatred. War. Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? I wish. They are legion, these Horsemen, and they spread devastation in their wake. They’ve had a few millenia to gain in power and scope. Human history is the story of our inhumanity, a desolate and sere desert of indifference and despair. My fear whispers for me to throw up my hands in surrender to the enormity of the task, to just walk away. The need is so great. I could be devoured by this need that grows daily and swallows hope.

It would be so easy to turn away from this overwhelming need.

I could, but I don’t. Instead, I do what I can. I light a candle, a flicker of hope in this darkness, the flutter of a butterfly’s wings that becomes a storm. The task may seem insurmountable, but I can’t avoid it. The Talmud tells us: “It is not your duty to complete the work, neither are you free to desist from it.” (Pirke Avot, 2:16,15)

My job, as I see it, as I have been taught, is to light the candles and flap my wings. Again and again and again— because I can, because I must. Because I change the world every time I do. And all those candles, mine and yours and on and on— they light the darkness and beat back despair. They kindle hope: A stop sign. A voice. Hope where there once was none. It is the best of our humanity.

Are we our brother’s keepers? Yes. I believe that having a roof over your head is a right, not a privilege, that access to medical care, or clean water to drink, or food on the table— all of that is a right, not a privilege. And no: I don’t have an answer on how to pay for all this; I just know that we must. It is our humanity at stake, and how could I turn away? How could I look into my son’s eyes if I turned my back on such need? How can I not pass this candle flame to him?

My son, my twelve year old— he wants to house the poor and feed the hungry and fight for justice. And he has learned that he has his own candles to light. And he does— because he can, because he must, because he, too, can save the world.

Read more from Stacey on her personal site.

Filed Under: Motivate, Opinion, Spirituality

On being your own worst enemy.

April 1, 2011 By Uncorked V 9 Comments

There are a lot of things I consider myself to be very good at doing. I understand this probably comes off as conceited, but usually when I try something, I’m good at it. Or at least not totally crappy at whatever it may be. But there has always been one thing that I’ve never been able to really excel at, and it’s the one thing that I think has held me back in my professional life. And probably my personal life too.

I cannot self-promote.

I have won negotiating competitions in law school. I can sell just about any idea to anyone at any time. I’m extremely persuasive when I want to be. The other night I went to a networking event for women at a local business school, a really good one. I met some amazingly successful women and made some great connections for business and for personal endeavors. At this event, however, I came to the conclusion in one of our roundtable discussions that I am a loser and would fail out of business school. I could go in and negotiate on behalf of any person at that table after knowing them for five minutes. I could give a speech honoring their accomplishments and gush over their success, but when asked about my own successes in life I clam up.

Part of this is the fact that I never saw myself has extraordinary in any way. When people tell me I’m unique or different and rare I always wonder who they hang out with, because my friends are all … better. They’re smarter, funnier, prettier, and I’m okay with that. But there was a statistic about how individuals stand to lose $500,000 by the time they reach 60 years old if they don’t negotiate their first salary.

Holy. Crap. That’s a lot of money.

And I did not negotiate my first salary after law school. As an attorney, I know better. As a relatively intelligent person, I know better. So why didn’t I?

Because I still feel like a dumb kid playing dress up in a suit.

But I intend to work on this. And I will succeed. I guess if there is a moral to this little story it is to not be afraid to see value in yourself, and to go for what you want. And if you’re not getting what you want, to be secure in yourself and walk away. There have been some changes in my life recently, and I no longer look at upcoming change and immediately have a panic attack. I know deep down that I am good enough and worthy of the things that have come my way, and those which will come my way. But it is those things that I still need to chase down which will really determine my path.

Picture courtesy of Blogtrepreneur.

To read more by V, visit *uncorked.

Filed Under: Misc, Motivate Tagged With: attorney, business, confidence, negotiating, networking, salary, self-promote, women

Unemployment and the search for good television.

March 23, 2011 By StaceyRobinson 3 Comments

I am completely caught up with all of my television programs.

All of them. All eleventy-seven hundred programs covering heart-warming dramas; scathingly sarcastic comedies; diseases of the week. An occasional news program sneaks in to keep my brain from turning to complete mush.

Between my DVR, my cable provider’s on-demand system and an online watch-all-the-tv-shows-you-want-for-free site, I have caught up with them all. Sigh.

Oh, and the dishes are done. They are piled high, threatening to tumble. They’re done, not put away. I’d like to say that the beds are made, floors mopped, clothes washed. Not so much. For now, the tv is watched and the dishes are done.

God, I need a job.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to find a job. Early on, I’d spring out of bed, marshall my son through breakfast and meds and shoes and where are your keys and c’mon, let’s go! I’d rush back home to sit at the computer for what seemed like eons, sending out resume after resume. Energetic. Industrious. Hopeful.

At first, the recruiters would call. “I saw your resume and wanted to talk to you. Is now good?” They were hopeful, too. They were hopeful I was experienced enough, that I was cheap. Like Goldilocks, they were looking for Baby Bear, who was just right. Turns out, I’m not– I’m too old, too experienced and way too expensive for most of the jobs posted. The calls would end awkwardly, abruptly. ”Well, we have your information on file. If something turns up, I’ll give you a call!” Right.

Now, even the random recruiter calls are drying up. I send out resumes into the great big black whole of unemployment hell. No contacts. No phone numbers. No way to follow up other than telepathy and wishful thinking. Damn. Just hour after hour, job board after job board. Resume after resume after resume.

The silence is deafening. The panic is just below skin level: that sub-atomic, just-barely-heard drone that sets your teeth on edge. There may be an inch or two of wall that I have not explored in intimate detail as I climb them mindlessly.

In a culture where we define so much of who we are by what we do, I ask myself (when it gets too quiet, when I can’t keep the panic at bay) “Who the hell am I?”

There are a thousand answers that I could offer. I am a mom. A teacher. A student. A seeker. A fixer of broken things. A writer. A singer. All of them are true. All of them involve, to my mind, sacred and holy work. Really. But I don’t look at them as “real” jobs. They’re all kinda fake or slightly less-than. For me. For you, they are challenging and fulfilling professions.

For me? They are filler, until I get a real job. One that gets me out of the house and saps my energy and drains my creativity and gets me to complaining and leaves me sleepless and pays the bills. Sacred and holy are all well and good, until you get the red notice from the electric company.

I need a job. At a time when I should be redoubling my efforts, I am slowing down, getting trapped in pixels and sound bytes. The couch calls to me, a siren song of mind-numbing sweetness. I am fascinated with facebook and twitter, living life 140 characters at a time. It is so much more satisfying than rejection. And really, I can’t even say I’m facing rejection: I am all but invisible. I would have to be acknowledged to be rejected.

I will find a job. I have to. I have bills to pay, a child to feed. In the meantime, I will muddle through all my fake jobs and send out tiny beacons of light into the black hole of resume hell. I will shake the trees and beat the paths and stare down the fear and panic of my joblessness. I will do the work of finding work, and look forward to the day when I have dishes in the sink and my DVR is full.

Read more from Stacey on her personal site.

Filed Under: Humor, Motivate

My nation is a procrasti-nation.

March 21, 2011 By Fabulously Awkward 4 Comments

My entire life has been defined by continual instances of procrastination. Whether it was college, law school, my job, or even most recently, wedding tasks, I likely would leave them ’til the eleventh hour.

When I had a paper due in college on a certain date, I likely would have started it the night before. I wouldn’t proofread, I would hustle, hustle, hustle and print it out, thinking, “DONE.” Finals in college meant going to my professor’s dinner party in his fancy house, drinking his wine, THEN I would go home and study. In college, this worked out fine. I graduated magna cum laude. I attempted a similar tactic in law school. Sadly, it turned out that procrastination wasn’t really effective when the professors usually grade you based on one final exam that comprises of an entire semester of reading.

I figured it out, procrastinated less and still…eked out mediocre grades. Needless to say, I did not graduate magna cum laude from law school. My procrastination meant that my first attempt at submitting my law review case note for evaluation, hoping to have it deemed “publishable quality,” was a shoddy and half-hearted attempt. Naturally, my first attempt was shot down. I know I procrastinated for my second attempt, but it was way more intense. For two weeks before it was due with massive efforts at research, footnotes and writing being my life for two weeks before it was due. This time? Success. AND publication.

Of course, these life lessons in “why you shouldn’t procrastinate” never have stuck. I still scramble to get motions and answers on file by the deadline. Such is my life. Most lawyers will probably admit to procrastinating once in awhile, if not often. I don’t think that this quality makes me unique.

My point? Well, in planning a wedding in a short amount of time, procrastination is not an option. I mean, it is, but you’ll really screw up your plans. In any event, I have mostly been staying on top of everything. It’s really a Christmas miracle, if you think about it. The procrastination queen is not procrastinating.

One of my good friends is a fabulous graphic designer, and she created our invitations that really inspired my decor and atmosphere for the entire wedding. She dropped them off at our house the other night and I went to work. By that night, I had nearly cut them all out with my new and nifty paper cutter. The next night? I had finished cutting them out and addressed almost all of them. Yesterday, I went to the post office (got the sullen POST OFFICE WORKER to be nice to me…another Christmas miracle), got our stamps and finished the invitations. Did you HEAR that? With my fiance’s assistance, I finished them in two days. The next morning, they went in the mailbox.

I assume this lack of procrastination must mean that I am ready to get married. I really am.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a motion due tomorrow that I haven’t started. You didn’t expect me to be completely reformed, did you?

Photo property of the author.

Read more from Fabulously Awkward here.

Filed Under: Humor, Motivate, Nostalgia

When you look good…you feel good!

March 20, 2011 By Newtritionista 1 Comment

As some of you may know, I am a Chicago based healthy living blogger. As much as I love to about food, diet, and nutrition I live by the saying “when you look good, you feel good,” something my Mother always and still says to me and it’s SO true!

Here are three things that make me look good and feel good…

Workout Clothes: I know this may sound goofy but I love shopping and expanding my workout wardrobe! Actually getting my butt to the gym is the hardest part of all, so why not look cute while getting my ass kicked?! So if you’re into the idea of looking chic while doing sprints on the treadmill, here are my favorite places to shop for workout gear: Lululemon, Gap Body, Old Navy, and Forever 21 – recently came out with their line of workout clothes.

Lingerie: “Lingerie is the first thing you put on and the last thing you take off, every single day. It sets the foundation for the way you look and feel, inspiring every emotion from confident to coquette,” Jenna, owner of Jenna Leigh Lingerie. SO SO true… even if you’re a single gal lingerie can be the perfect confidence booster. My new obsession, cheeky undies! I want one of these in every color!

Getting my hair done: For special occasions this is one of the pricier things I like to do. Last week, I treated myself to a blowout and it was the perfect pick me up after a rough week. My hair not only looked amazing but people were giving me tons of compliments, thanks to Matilda at Charles Ifergan Salon. If you’re feeling down or having a stressful week I highly recommend you hit this Oak Street salon and pamper yourself with the best blowout in Chicago.

You can read more from Newtritionista at her personal site here.

Filed Under: Motivate, Style Tagged With: beauty, confidence, mental health