Today I walked to the gym, did a power yoga class (and actually felt good about seeing myself in the mirror, even next to all the peppy young blonde Wellesley moms!), walked back. And have been since immersed in blog and boppity bear land. I'm torn about spending all this time online- it feels good to get things organized permanently in cyber-space, but draining to spend so much time in front of a screen. Hm. 

Also, I discussed my work schedule at Omega this summer (looks like I'll be there from May-August!), and signed up for a Journey Dance workshop next weekend in Newton. Whee! 

Yesterday morning was awash in indecision, because I couldn't seem to decide whether to follow my brain or my body, or indeed, figure out which one of them was which. I felt the need to exercise, so I first thought I would go into town, but then walked toward the campus center, then thought maybe I would go for a walk around the lake, and finally headed for the pool, but it was closed. So I then went to get coffee, but didn't have enough money (pathetic, when you think about how much a coffee costs), so went to walk around the lake. I got about five feet and stopped on the bridge, and looked out at the water, and sighed, and contemplated the ducks, and threw ice chunks under the bridge and ran from side to side watching them float by. It was just like Pooh-sticks! 

Then I walked about five more feet, decided to turn around (it's HARD walking in the snow!), and headed back to the campus center, cursing my indecision. There I remembered that I still didn't have enough money for a coffee, so I went again to the pool. I told myself that I would do a solid 20 laps, not even a mile, and that was that. As is probably predictable, that turned into maybe 5 laps and a lot of floundering. I even used a kick-board at one point. 

But it was a half hour of good solid fun, and that is, in my new Wanderess land, what is most important. I should definitely pay attention to when these indecisive moods occur- obviously, they crop up during unstructured time, but there are times that I can have an unstructured day and still be somewhat focused and in the moment. I think the root of it all was that, after my crazy snow and slush adventure, I had promised myself a day "off." And indeed, the rest of the day can be summed up as follows: I lay on the couch and read, from cover to cover, a biography of Madonna. It was fantastic!

Yesterday was quite a wanderess sort of day. I awoke to a blizzard but had the urge to exercise- I'm only just starting to try and learn the difference between my mind telling me to work out and my body asking me to. So, I happily set off to the gym clad in my usual walking attire. The 15 minute walk there was glorious- I was the only person out and about besides the snow plows, and even though there was snow blowing in my face and down my front, I thoroughly enjoyed tramping my boots through the world of white. I arrived at the gym covered in about a half a foot of snow. Much to my chagrin, the guy who signed me up for a membership was cleaning up the foyer, thwarting my plan to slip in and dust off un-noticed. Instead, I stood mollified as he brushed me off with his broom, chuckling all the while. 

Then I did some elliptical and treadmill and crunches and push-ups and sat in the steam room for 15 minutes. Happy and hungry, I headed next for the supermarket across the street, and my increasingly low blood sugar while I was there led me to get more and more overwhelmed what with trying to secure enough to eat for the next few days, and at the same time not get too much to carry back. There was definitely some low blood sugar, dazed wandering going on, but I somehow got myself to the check-out lane, and, sixty dollars later, entered an outside world that was no longer snow, but ice, rain, sludge, and mush. 

Anybody who knows me will cringe at the idea of me setting off on a mile walk through sludge and ice, with my arms laden with heavy plastic bags that are already starting to fray. Not to mention the sixty dollars worth of groceries at stake. Believe me, I was already chuckling at the myriad of dreadful possibilities I could see taking place. But somehow, by the grace of God, I managed, by being conscious of every single step I took, to make it back to Homestead with all my limbs and food items intact. Nothing short of a miracle. It was a miserable walk, but I took some strange cheer in it, singing songs to boost my morale, envisioning my grand entrance into Homestead; a hot shower, followed by a huge feast. And when I finally arrived home, I did just that, and it was, indeed, heavenly. I've re-discovered a key ingredient to my goddess nature, and it is, most certainly, steak. 

What a lusciously wanderess-type of day this was! Last night I was exhausted and slept from 7:30pm to 8:45am! MANY dreams- in one I was working at a grocery store and discussing my future with my boyfriend, Kevin Federline! Sad to say this is not the first dream I've had about him....

It was a bright and sunny day and I headed out around noon- I walked to the center of town for lunch and happened to run into a friend at the sandwich shop. Pastrami sandwich, mini-chocolate pastry, coffee, and chit-chat- huzzah! Then I headed for the public library, which I'd been to only once or twice before but never really explored. Well. Let's just say my life has changed entirely since that moment of entrance... into the BEST. LIBRARY. I have ever experienced! It has all the books and resources of a city library, but none of the homeless people! Instead, there are sunny windows and cozy chairs and lovely, clean pages of books! The movies, magazines, mysteries, biographies- and Irving, Updike, Oates, Hemingway... I was a kid in a candy shop. I practically skipped out with my arms full of books, and took a winding path through the woods home. I followed a babbling brook, picking out spots where I can sit and read when the weather is warmer. I crossed several bridges, ending up at a large open field, and I found my way home from there, feeling every bit the whimsical Wellesley schoolgirl. Then I curled up in my room and read "The Witches of Eastwick" until it was time to leave...

for the Tuesday open mike night at Club Passim! As usual, I had the vegan peanut curry on rice and be-friended some of my neighbors- one who I believe may have been a bit enamored? Am I allowed to brag on my blog? Well, since I'm probably the only person who will ever read it, and it's more of a diary than a blog, and its whole POINT is for me to gain confidence in my natural, goddess self, then, yes I am allowing myself to say that. Humph.

Next! Playing was fun as always, and I was hoping to catch an earlier-than usual bus home. I couldn't wait to unwind some more with "The Witches of Eastwick." But I arrived at the Kendall subway stop to see that I was stranded! After 15 minutes of standing in denial, I went across the street to explore my options. And the rest of the evening played out as my evenings usually do when they involve me being stranded, anxious, bored, and/or exploring- I ended up at a bar, nursing a generous glass of wine, deep in conversation about my own personal "feminine mystique" with the bartender. Other topics discussed: Obama, Britney Spears, Massachusetts weather, and how rejection makes one stronger. It was a wholly enjoyable hour and a half, and my self-esteem was boosted considerably thanks to his various comments, including (my favorite), "you probably cause 1-2 accidents a month." hehehe I also caused quite a ruckus when I ran in to use a bathroom in a neighboring bar- for some reason the Irish and English men clustered around the bar couldn't handle the combination of me and my guitar and for a moment I didn't think I was going to get out of there.... anyway... so it turned out to be quite the entertaining night and I am definitely feeling good about trusting the sexy siren/wild woman inside of me. I'll keep you (aka myself) posted!

Well, there were certainly no wild adventures today (yet) but it was a pleasant day nonetheless. I drove back to Wellesley, got myself situated, said hello to my fish, and walked to work. I was wearing my new classy plaid coat and black hat and bright red mittens, with a Longchamps messenger bag slung over my shoulder. I felt put-together and youthful and cheerful, and received many a smile from the local church-goers. The mere three hours of work flew by, and at 4 I walked to the gym, where I went on the elliptical and then walked some more while reading Rolling Stone's article on the 100 Greatest Singers of all time. Then I made the chilly walk home- a gate house at the Wellesley entrance was all lit up, and sparked my imagination. It's quite easy to feel like a princess wandering in an enchanted forest here- with all the ivy and turrets. I like to think that I am a princess when I am in my beautiful room, hiding from the world. When I go out, I must disguise myself as either a minstrel, jester, wild gypsy, or an unappealing old crone. That way no one will guess my true worth.

Also, I'm pretty sure I just witnessed/heard a fly being fried in the overhead light. See you tomorrow!

Introduction

For far too long I have been a slave to my inner critic and its lofty expectations. It seems that no matter how many pounds I lose, what GPA I attain, how clean my room is and expensive my clothes are, and how many friends and funny stories I have, the only response I get from this voice is "more, more, more. Don't stop now, you lazy slob! You pathetic loser! This is only the beginning- this is a fluke! You have to keep striving, keep working out, keep achieving, until you've earned..."

What? The right to live? A chance to breathe? A day to relax? Never, according to my bullying mind. There is no end point. Because if I lose the weight like I'm constantly fixated upon doing, then there's the constant vigilance to maintain it, the fear of those lost pounds creeping back on. The voice becomes even more frantic. And I'll tell you something- after eight years of this cycle, I'm exhausted. I feel like a bird in a cage that keeps being told to fly harder against the bars so that it can escape. And now I'm collapsed at the bottom of the cage, bruised and battered, feathers all over the place, and I'm finally ignoring the stupid voice that's screaming at me to get back up and fly against the bars of the cage, this time with all I've got.

I can't tell you how scary it is to ignore that voice.

This past semester, I told myself, was finally "it." I joined the Wellesley crew team (albeit the novice one), and soon was in the swing of waking up in the wee hours of the morning for our morning row or workout. Then it was breakfast with the team, a day packed with classes, another workout, and early to bed. I had things to do, places to go, people to see. Before I knew it, the semester was halfway over, and I found myself not miserable and gaining weight due to lonely despair as expected, but happy, social, and losing weight to boot. I actually liked what I saw maybe 85% of times looking in the mirror, which is unprecedented.

But then November began and crew ended. My own tried and true mania crept in. "Don't screw this up...." I heard the evil little voice whispering. "Don't sabotage things like you always do. You'd better get up tomorrow at 8am to work out so that you can get your two daily workouts in. What will you do if you don't get two daily work-outs?! Then you'll start not even getting ONE daily work-out, and then the descent will begin...."

So I followed the voice dutifully, also cramming in late open-mike nights to add to the end of the semester mania. By Christmas, I was tired, frazzled, and feeling puffy and bloated even despite my best efforts at continuing to slim down. After a couple of holiday breakdowns, I chalked it up to PMS and began to hit the treadmill for multiple hours each day. Problem solved.... I thought.

Soon it was time for this January's pre-menstrual wisdom, and man- whatever lessons I didn't face last time around, there was certainly no escaping them this past week. I have always had maybe too healthy of an appetite, but suddenly "voracious" didn't even begin to describe it. I was demolishing everything in sight! This was the opposite of cravings- after round 1, round 2 of ransacking my poorly stocked cupboard, I didn't WANT to be eating anything more- ever!- but the hunger pangs just kept coming and coming. The inner critic, of course, screamed at me to get to the gym to work it all off, but the low blood sugar after exercising made things 10 times worse.

I literally have never experienced anything like it- I contemplated calling a doctor, but called my sympathetic parents instead. They, and the concerned fellow residents of my dorm, urged me to try less of the intense cardio, more of the meat and protein that I usually avoid. So I took a lovely long walk through the winter countryside, came back, and ordered a large steak and cheese sub. It was divine.... and.... I almost didn't dare believe it.... satiating! I basked in the afterglow of the meat and the great outdoors, thinking I'd found a solution.

An hour and a half later I was hungry again. I ate yogurt and granola, and cried.

After a couple more days of inner battle, and hunger, and feeling lost, lonely, confused, and desperate, I decided to give up and head for home. I left a note for my inner critic telling it "Sayanora" and that it had 48 hours to pack up and leave. My head on the drive home was a-whir with thoughts of change and renewal. But this time, they weren't going to be exterior. They were going to be interior. My new resolutions were not to spend more time at a gym- they were to spend LESS. And not to eat less meat- to eat MORE. And to consistently find new ways to nurture myself, because my body and soul were starving to a point where I had no other option but to change.

I accepted that I might look a little chunkier when my parents saw me- an idea that had always tortured me in the past- I accepted that I might just BE a little chunkier for a while. But I am putting faith in my intuition, and my spirit, and my naturally athletic and energetic nature, to lead my body where it wants to go. And I fully believe that the product of that, eventually, will be much more beautiful and easy to maintain than the product of my dictatorial ego.

So. I am happy to announce that I got my period. I have been taking lots of walks filled with cleansing conversation with my mother and father. I have been eating lots of steak. And beef. And lamb. And meatballs. And I am no longer hungry! Well, not at this precise moment, anyway. Well, now that you mention it....

But the point is that this blog will be a diary of my year of experimentation of following my intuition and heart, rather than my head. Particularly in matters of exercise and eating. I tried to write that my goal now isn't to lose weight, but couldn't do it- my goal is perpetually to lose weight, and has been ever since I hit puberty in the first place. It would be very, very nice if over the course of this year I were to legitimately be done with that goal. No- my one goal for now is to wander. To wander, at least a mile every day. And to share with you the things I see and ideas I ponder and stories I acquire through all that wandering, and hopefully a year from now the infant goddess who seems to be starving for affection and attention right now will be fed. And growing STRONG!

The journey is very exciting, and I welcome you to take it with me.

Love,
The Wanderess