Owning it.

Rachel Wilkerson is one of my favorite bloggers and probably one of the biggest inspirations I had to write a wellness-themed blog. (Bear with me – I’m new here and don’t quite know what I’m doing just yet. Sorry I’m not sorry.)

Recently Rachel wrote about seriously owning your life and not apologizing for the things that make you you or what you want to do in life. I’ve been reading (and loving!) follow up posts like this one, and this one, and this one that have lit a bit of a flame under my butt to actually own up to some of my own ‘isms’ that I make no apologies for.

So, here goes . . . Sorry I’m not sorry.

 

Seriously. I got this.

 

I love the news. I really do. But I don’t follow it as often as I sometimes feel like I should. I have a lot on my plate – I work full-time, I’m trying to get established as a health and wellness blogger, I’m training for a marathon, trying to lose weight and have a social life and maintain relationships at the same time. Maybe I didn’t hear about Dr. Laura securing herself as a total idiot when it happened, or maybe I’ve gone a few days without watching any coverage of the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, but I’m still trying to keep up as best I can so cut me some slack. I know I won’t be perfect at it. I could say that in my defense, I’m getting better at it, but that feels like an apology — and I’m not apologizing that my priorities right now don’t include gluing myself to CNN or MSNBC. Sorry I’m not sorry.

I’m a blogger! But I don’t know what I’m doing sometimes. I own this – and I’m working on getting better at it, but for now . . . Sorry I’m not sorry.

I’m a vegetarian who often gets asked, “But . . . but where do you get your protein?!” As if being a vegetarian has branded me as some sort of nutritionally-braindead Martian? Whatever. I get plenty of protein – I actually get more than enough – and I refuse to answer this question any more for obnoxious people who can’t see beyond bacon, burgers and chicken salads. While many most people are perfectly nice about it (for those people, I’m happy to answer politely), every now and then I get a pretty rude line of questioning that is almost always punctuated with, “Wow. Well, I could just never give up meat . . . I just don’t know how I’d get protein,” — as if thinking outside the box of chicken nuggets means I’m somehow crazy, ill-informed, malnourished, flouting the laws of conventional nutrition or just plain weird. I even get comments of, “Well, I only ask because I worry that you’re not getting enough . . .” Bullshit. Keep your judgments to yourself. I’m smart, resourceful, creative and I make it a point to educate myself on nutrition – especially given that whole marathon part and my status as a No Meat Athlete. I don’t eat meat and I doubt I will won’t ever again. Sorry I’m not sorry.

Most people who know me would describe me as being pretty positive. Upbeat, sunny, cheerful — all words that I hear people use in reference to my personality. But as good as I am at being an upbeat, positive person, inside I’m pretty snarky and downright critical — chalk it up to my wry wit and other Capricorn tendencies. I may not tell people to go fly a kite, suck it up, or fix it/figure it out yourself, but I’m probably thinking it. Still waters run deep, yo. I have no patience for people who nag, rush, or otherwise vex me and I’m twice as likely to not be my helpful little self if you’re just plain pissing me off. I have a serious weakness for not doing something because I don’t understand it. I’m logical, rational and if something makes no sense to me, it’s not worth my time to do it. Most of the time I’m good with going with the flow and just doing it, but every now and then, I just can’t resist the urge to toss out a snippy comment or sarcastic remark about just how utterly ridiculous the situation is. Sorry I’m not sorry.

My apartment is messy – it will never pass a military inspection unless the military ONLY inspects on Sundays. With the aforementioned full-time job and marathon training, I don’t have a lot of time. My tendencies to enjoy exercising, cooking and generally finding ways to keep myself alive prevent a lot of free time to be spent, oh, cleaning. Deal. There’s probably definitely (clean) unfolded laundry on my couch, there’s a bunch of clutter on my counter, a pile of shoes near my bookcase where I kick them off every day after I get home, and God only knows when I last made my bed . . . but I own this. I’m not living in squalor, I just don’t have time to keep everything completely in order. I clean on the weekends, and by the next weekend, things need cleaning again. I’m busy and I’m not going to sacrifice sleep or my priorities to make sure there aren’t sweaters and jeans draped over the arm of my couch. Sorry I’m not sorry.

I’m a runner, but I am sloooooooooooooow. I own this. It’s probably why one of my life goals is to qualify for the Boston Marathon — because it will be SUCH a challenge.  For now though, sometimes, I don’t finish in under an hour. Sometimes, I walk faster than I run. Hell, sometimes I just plain skip runs, but I’m a runner and I deserve to be taken seriously as a runner even if I’m not smashing records when I cross those finish lines. Sorry I’m not sorry.

I spent years studying the likes of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Faulkner, and Hawthorne to get my degree in literature, but I LOVE a good chick lit novel every now and then. Sorry I’m not sorry.

So there you have it . . . It’s what I’m owning. Thank you, Rachel, for the inspiration and for the huge sigh that just escaped me.