Hellish Torture, Valentines Day, and Other Synonyms

Everyone reaches that point...

..in the workout cycle. A decent amount of time has passed between the beginning and now. You've become accustomed to feeling sore. You rejoice how you feel a little less sore every time you do that last sit up or push up. A minute planking is now slightly less of a hellish torture designed to make you question your life choices. And while you know in your head that it's still too soon for any noticeable, visible change, you have to make sure to look in the mirror often...just in case. 

But the beauty of having multiple resolutions is I always have something to work on when I don't feel like I'm progressing enough in one. For example, I've already completed one of the books for the reading challenge (Ms. Austen, huge fan of your work, but I would have vastly preferred a word by word account of Henry Tilney's proclamation of love than a vague overview). My little time travel story has been fully edited once over (now I have only to do that like 5 more times before I'm satisfied). And not a drop of soda has passed my lips yet, which makes this about the longest I've gone without soda since I was first introduced to it. On a sidenote, did you know KoolAid made drink flavors without sugar, calories, or aspartame? It's beautiful. 

I will admit a bit of fear as everyone else is getting on with their new years resolutions. I've never really had one before, at least not when I was so dedicated to, so I don't know what it'll be like trying to hang on to them when other people start ditching theirs. Our culture seems to ingrain a fear of rising above the crowd. Mentions of beauty are met with a shrug, if not a loud "no, I'm not". To have high grades is to be the teacher's pet. And in everything, to laud your own accomplishments is to be arrogant. I can remember being a senior in highschool, listening to everyone discuss how "bullshit" the ACT was, talking about their "stupid" 22s or 23s. And I was sitting there awkwardly, keeping my 28 to myself. Why? Because by 17 I'd already learned that it was social suicide to admit being smarter than your friends.

But why can't we have our little London Tipton "yay me!!" moments? Why can't we clap our hands like 5 year olds and grin when we've done something well? Why can't we look in the mirror and think "bitch, I'm fabulous"?  Just because I am 22 does not mean that I do not want my goddamn gold stars (which, at the moment, come in the forms of trumpet sounds in the Duolingo language app). If you are really working toward something and you achieve it, you should be allowed a "go me!" moment. We can't focus on being so comforting to people failing that we convince others they should never try to succeed.

And I will keep telling myself that, when I'm one of the few people still talking about their resolutions after Valentines Day.