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Turning 30: 6 months to go

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

On July 7, I turned 29, and have been pretty much screaming all day, every day, ever since.

Most of my close friends have turned 30 by now, and they're just fine. But not me, I'm over here running around, ID in hand, praying someone will want to check it:

Like, “oh do you need this?”
“No, ma'am”
“ma'am?”
“yes?”
“But I'm SO young”
“huh?”
“OH, it's just because I'm wearing makeup, you should see me without it. I look SUPER young.”
“ok...”
“But I'm actually 29.”
“..”
“..so..do you need this?”

Nope, they sure don't.

Recent Selfie

Growing up, I was sure I'd have my Barbie dream house by now. I'd be riding ponies all day, in fabulous gowns, and zipping around in my Corvette with Ken. But instead, I'm zipping around in my Corolla with Thomas.*

*Thomas is way better than Ken. I'm big-time winning in that department.
Not so sure I can say the same about the Corolla.

So, no ponies, no fancy gowns, no dream house. Eh.

I have ideas, I have a VISION BOARD (shout out, Oprah), I meditate, I exercise, I go to work, I eat right, I drink wrong, and I want more. So, today I don't have any big answers. Today I'm just screaming, all-effing-day.

But uh, stay tuned. I have 6 months to go.

Xxo, L


Recipe: Side Dish - Roasted Sweet, Sweet Potatoes

Monday, October 24, 2016

Oh sweet, sweet, sweet potato; how do I love thee? Let me count the ways:
  1. Vitamin A (in the form of Beta Carotene): you give my sweet potato his sweet orange glow and you give my skin collagen 
  2. Vitamin C: More Collagen? Well, if you insist that my skin never ages... I accept!
  3. Manganese: Even more Collagen (are you noticing a theme here?) Also a great killer of free radicals (the enemies that eat up all the good vitamins & minerals you put in your body, like an evil pac-man {free radicals come from processed foods, among other sources})
  4. Copper: Another free radical killer; Essentially sweet potatoes go to war with the bad guys (More Pac-Man). Sweet potatoes are the good guys, your own, personal soldiers.
  5. A S*** load of Vitamin B: These work to keep your energy levels high and also form red blood cells (that keeps you alive, who doesn't want that?!)
  6. Fiber: Are you going to make me say it? It rhymes with Doop and Dooping. It also helps you cleanse your system and helps you feel satiated. Well, the process works the other way around. Satiated first, then...
There are more vitamins and minerals, but this covers your basics. Forget all those expensive beauty creams that offer you collagen at like $85/oz. You can eat these suckers for 99cents/lb and they'll give you much longer lasting effects. 

With that said, here is one my new favorite sweet potato recipes. I tried it myself, didn't burn it, and the others that ate it swear they "love it." Plus, my apartment smelled like hot honey and cinnamon for hours. Um, hello? That's awesome.

______________

Roasted Sweet, Sweet Potatoes

Ingredients:

2 large sweet potatoes
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup organic honey
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
salt and freshly ground black pepper



Directions:
  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees
  2. Peel sweet potatoes (do your best, it doesn't have to be perfect. Obviously I didn't try very hard)
  3. Chop those bad boys into 1 inch cubes and lay in a single layer on the pan
    *Lay tin foil in your pan if you have a crappy pan. But if you have a good pan, don't worry about it. From the image below, you can guess which pan I'm using
  4. Drizzle with oil, cinnamon, salt and pepper. Massage this into the potato cubes
  5. Drizzle with honey, BUT DONT BE AN IDIOT, Just eyeball the honey. Pouring honey into a 1/4 cup measuring cup = total disaster. Just eyeball and drizzle. I believe in you (if I can do it without f***ing up the dish AND/OR coating my entire kitchen in honey, then so can you)
  6. Roast 25 to 30 minutes, or until tender (you don't want them too crispy, they're meant to be a little tender to the touch)
  7. Enjoy the smell while they roast. Maybe try to cook this when you know people will be around so they can be SO impressed and all "OMG (name) you used to be a real monkey in the kitchen, but by the smell of your home, I just know you have serious talent. I was so wrong about you, can I rub your feet or buy you some jewelry?" and you'll be like "no no, that won't be necessary, a foot rub is plenty."

{I forgot to take an after picture}

Good Luck, Champ.

Xxo, L

Things I'm still Learning: Cooking

Monday, October 17, 2016

We were at a friends house for dinner recently when we all started chatting about health, food, diet, etc. Somewhat shamefully I shared about the "trail mix" that I had made for Thomas and myself while we were doing Whole30 (which for us, wound up being whole 21, with booze) 

The “trail mix” was as follows:
  • chop up raw veggies
  • find handfuls of raw, no-salt, no-fun almonds
  • find a tupperware container
  • mix and serve
  • watch for looks of disappointment (that's how you know you did it right)
We laughed until we cried as I detailed the "recipe," because the fact that Thomas and I really snacked away on this stuff, is, at best, kind of pathetic. Healthy? Yes. The lamest way possible to get nutrients? Definitely.

And as we sat there eating this awesome meal of like, bacon flavored heaven and polenta (which, by the way, Annie asked me to stir while she ran out to manage not only the grill but her newborn baby- I just stood there at the pot thinking "how fast do I stir it?" "how often?" "did I just make glue?") 
I couldn't help but think, I have a ways to go.

At 29, your (my) ego wants to think that you have it all together. But, none of us do. We're all learning something(s) and I have many somethings on my list. So suck it, ego, because as of late, I've ruined multiple crock pot meals, over-salted about half of what goes in the oven, and fun fact: used to consider cheese an acceptable meal (but that was college, ya know).

However, I do occasionally make things that turn out, and cooking is actually kind of fun. Clearly I don't have a full set of skills, but if you're into meals that are something a 9-year-old could make, stay tuned. And if, perhaps, you're as much of a disaster as I am, it's possible that you could learn something. I promise to only post things that actually taste good (except for the recipe above, use that one at your own risk, champ) so the cooking posts may be far and few between. But hey, I'm only just learn-ding.             


            

Xxo, L

Is it Just Me?: Laundry Thievery

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

At my current apartment, I don't have a laundry unit in my home (OH THE HORROR) so instead, I have to carry my loads of laundry down the stairs, over to the building next door, and into the communal laundry room.




Le Sigh. Life is so difficult sometimes.

No but really, it's not a big deal, plus it gets my ass off the couch for at least 4 minutes.

The funny thing though, is that every time I talk about my laundry situation (which, is ostensibly way too often, I'm just now realizing) everyone is all “OH THE HORROR!” and then they're like “what a pain, just sitting there, watching your laundry. You must bring your ipad or a book or something, yes?”

Bring my ipad? Books? Reading??? Listen you, I'm not watching my laundry.
But, “Am I supposed to?”

“Well yes, it seems a bit risky to not.”

“risky?”

“you know, it might get stolen.”

Excuse me, but who, WHO, in the history of public laundering, has been caught stealing other people's shoddy garments?

Of course I've googled it by now, and it actually has happened. But I'm (statistically speaking*) more likely to have a shark crawl out of the sea, Uber to my apartment, and eat me alive while I'm loading the wash, than I am to have these wet, old robes snatched up.

Am I right, or is just just me?

Xxo, L

*I made these statisitics up, as are all statistics. Don't act like I'm wrong.

P.S. Shout out to Pervy McPervers who definitely steals laundry, but only when it's dirty. I went to college, I know who you are.


P.S.A. If you live in a large city, maybe keep your eye on your blankets during the cold months. Don't judge me, it's the only time I can think of this whole “laundry stealing” situation coming true. So maybe you can point that finger back at yourself, Ms. “did you bring a book?” 

Confidence Chronicles: The Fat in the Hat

Monday, August 22, 2016

Growing up as a real gangley thing (think, snowman, without the snow), I will never forget when our fourth grade P.E. teacher took it upon herself to warn us of the dangers of... our future weight issues. The whole thing was sort of odd, and completely out of the blue, as she announced to the girls in class “now girls, in high school, you're going to think you're fat, but just know that you aren't, okay? It's all in your head.”

Weird, right? Were here pants too tight that day? or did she really think she was doing us a favor?

Anyway, she said it, and I remember turning to one of my best friends at the time who was very thin herself and saying, “Oh, well we don't have to worry about that” and without skipping a beat she goes, “Oh, but you have to.” I can't remember the exact wording that followed, but it was something along the lines of, “if you don't think you're fat, you're never going to fit in {and} It's expected of you.” Being nine-years-old and highly impressionable, I instantly believed her. I wasn't sure why she was right, but I was certain it was the truth.





Clearly I don't blame my, then BFF (BEST FRIEND FOR LIFE!), for what she said. But it makes me wonder, where did she create the story? Who told her to worry about her weight? Why did she feel this expectation, and further, why did she feel the need to impress it upon me? Beyond the BFF, why did our P.E. Teacher bring this up in the first place? Why did she feel the need to prematurely instill anxiety about our weight? And to so clearly place it as an issue to the women little girls, in the room. Almost as to say, “Hey boys, keep eating! And Ladies, keep eating, but just so you know, you're gonna wish you hadn't.”

But the thing is, following that day, my mind became just as distorted as theirs. Being so impressionable, and believing what I was told, weight concerns were now a part of the story that I carried; But at 54 pounds, that ain't right.

My story continues from here, and it doesn't lead into any sort of disordered eating or any other type of textbook “disorder(ed)” issues. But you know what is disordered? THE STORY. The story that I learned to tell myself and the story we learn to tell OURSELVES that then becomes the story we tell our daughters, nieces, PE students, and friends.

I don't blame you, new friend, because at some point along the line, your BEST FRIEND FOR LIFE (which is a bullshit term anyway. It just means you have matching necklaces and I legit don't even know if that girl is still alive) told you a similar story. “It must be true” you thought, and then you hated yourself forever, and so did all the other women in the land, the end.



But in all seriousness, it's time to change the story. It's time to realize that happiness and acceptance have nothing to do with our pounds or hair color or nail color or whatever bullshit we've been told that “I will be accepted when __________________.” That's a marketing scheme, and a pretty rude one, if you ask me. So maybe let's teach our daughters that they're enough, and then maybe word will get around that we are all enough, and maybe, just then, we'll all believe it.

Confidence Chronicles, to be continued.


Xxo, L


Original artwork by Lauren Taylor. I know, you're shocked, it's just, so amazing. I'm so talented. Blah blah blah. Save it for the comments.

Wanted