Of Work and Balance

I’ve had kind of rough week.

Today, my bathroom scaled summed it up by spitting out a number that is four pounds above my normal weight. Which means that in a matter of four days, I’ve gained four pounds. Now, that would mean eating 14,000 calories above my normal intake and while I did inhale a bag of bakery-sized M&Ms on Monday night out of sheer pathetic-ness, even I know that I couldn’t have possibly gained that much pure fat. And while I know everyone likes a skinny girl bitching about her weight, I’m not so much mortified about the gain of 4 pounds (a small chicken at the grocery store) as I am about the meaning behind the 4 pounds.

Because my normal routine of taking care of myself has turned to shit in the past two weeks.

Before I even started the whole process below, I actually had to leave my first job in Los Angeles. Since it was an assigned rotation, it wasn’t like I had a Bon Voyage party in the break room. There were final presentations, final reviews, final lunches with people who probably were wondering why the pale girl in the corner looked like she was tweaking out. Nope, not on drugs. Just the overload of stress has made my eye start to twitch. Yup, I now have a twitching eye. Awesome.

But anyways, that was just the beginning. After I left LAX?

First, I moved. My parentals have always moved me so I’ve never really felt the stress. But basically, I took a red eye flight, slept for 6 hours (after being awake for 22 hours), and then in a panic due to the early arrival of movers, drove 2 hours south to Fort Wayne. I actually missed my entrance to the highway because I was freaking out. Thank god for Bonnie, the incredible GPS.

Then, I had to move. Physically getting myself from point A to point B was physically exhausting, but nothing compared to actually unloading boxes and putting stuff away and writing checks and figuring out how allllllll of my stuff is going to fit into one itty bitty closet. Yes, my closet is like a muffin top (you know, big girl stuffed into little jeans) right now: everything’s just pouring out. At one point, my mother had to feed me McDonalds (and you know I don’t do McDonald’s–I’m simply am a Subway girl) at 5 pm because I was turning white with an overload of stress, jet lag, and exhaustion. That doesn’t even include coordinating utilities, cable appointments, and deliveries. When my boyfriend drove down and asked me to go see a movie at 10 pm, I didn’t even read what the movie was about. I just thought: quiet. Nothing to do. Just sit. Of course, then he took me to The Gray with Liam Neeson. Spoiler Alert: Everyone dies. Really uplifting. Don’t see it. You’re welcome for spoiling it for you. Seriously, you’ll thank me later.

After I moved and then moved, I went back to Michigan for the weekend. I thought spending the weekend alone in Fort Wayne would be depressing (Little did I know that every day in Fort Wayne is depressing–don’t think the weekends get extra special depression treatment!) It was only six days ago, but I have no idea what I did last weekend. I know I bought a dresser. And that my dad told me I was allowed to be lazy. And I baked cookies. But really, I was in a fog.

Because then I drove back to Fort Wayne and got the overwhelming stress of starting a new job. And this isn’t a lush job. This job is HARD. This job makes me realize why men are the prominent gender in factories and why I also have way bigger balls than anyone gave me credit for. I might be pale, thin, and cutesy with my headbands and pink tshirts, but I am also way tougher than you think. Well, probably. I would have cried after my first day, but I was too tired. My hours are insane, I leave before the sun comes up and come home after it goes down. If I want to fit in a workout before work, I have to run in the freezing cold dark. I attempted to use the Apartment Complex’s workout room after work one day, but halfway through my usual run, I quit. My legs hurt, my head hurt, I’d worked a 10.5 hour day, and you know what? I was tired.

I guess the entire point of this post is three things:

1. I’m stressed out and exhausted to the maximum. I’m breaking out. My hair is falling out. Of course, I have a shitload of hair so that could just be normal shedding, but for the case of dramatics, let’s go with it. Not only am I coping with starting a new hard job, my apartment is a mess, my routine is in dire need of a clean up, and sometimes, all I want to do is just sit on my couch and not move or talk or text or email or blog. I want to be quiet. If I have ever come close to understanding why alcoholics do what they do, this would be it. Taking the edge off sounds pretty damn good.

2. I’m giving myself a Get Out of Jail Free Card. I’m going to be nice to myself about the last two weeks. Normal me would beat myself up about not working out enough, binge eating goldfish, and sleeping in until 6:30 instead of pounding on the pavement for a four mile loop at 5:30 am. But I’m not. It’s been a hard week and if the only way I can feel even just a little better is to eat carbs and chocolate and ice cream, then dammit, I’ve earned it. This Pity Party is full on and the only invited guests are me and a tub of Skinny Cow ice cream.

3. But next week, it’s time to make a routine. Not just so I don’t continue my trend of gaining a pound a day (or that muffin top of a closet will be a muffin top of a Maggie since I’m way too cheap to purchase new clothes) but because I need to have some structure in my life that is so out of whack right now, I’m too exhausted to cry over it. More water, less diet coke. Enough with the carbs and candy, hit out the healthy foods that are more filling and probably better for my brain chemistry, which is dealing with a lot right now. And even though 5:30 am runs suck, I need to do them for the endorphins and so that when I come home from work at 7 or 8, I don’t have to try and stack exercise on top of my already giant to do list. If it’s too cold to run outside, then I need to just suck it up and spend the cash to join a gym. It’s not like I’m spending money on having fun right now anyways. There’s the silver lining!

So, help me out. Have you ever been so stressed and overwhelmed and exhausted that the idea of getting up to empty the dishwasher seems as difficult as running a marathon? How’d you handle it? Am I lost cause? Am I doomed to gain a pound every day for the rest of my life?

xoxo

Color Scheming

My newest idea for the apartment:

What do you think? The last two colors, a sandy color and the fabric, are kind of non-negotiable as that’s the color of my furniture. But I’m thinking of going a little bold with the teal, purple, and chocolate brown. Together, they’d make gorgeous pillows and I’m thinking of being a total badass and painting my TV stand the dark teal. I know it’s a little trendy and would probably be out of style faster than you can clap your hands, but I’ll only be 23 once, the TV stand is a 23 year old hand me down, and it might be cute with some fun knobs. My apartment is so bland now…why not have some fun?

My style is very country chic or as one roommate called it, “Princess Maggie.” So, I don’t mind keeping the lighter, “princess” style in my bedroom, but shocks of bright color could really bring some life into the living room.

Too trendy? Any other suggestions? It’s just paint and pillow cases, I really don’t need a pro/con list for this (but I’ll probably make one anyways).

The Best Healthy Cookies in the World

There is an inner fat girl that lives inside my tummy. Her name is Maggie.

I love sweets. I eat healthy and exercise daily and even can’t handle sitting still for a full day, but man oh man do I love sweets. Over the past 9 months, I have mastered the healthy cookie. In fact, I’ve fallen for these cookies so hard, I have a hard time eating normal cookies–they’re just so sweet with sugar!

So I stole this image from skinnytaste.com because I forgot to take my own picture. But I swear they look IDENTICAL to this. But mine are yummier!

Recipe:

Ingredients:

• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup unpacked brown sugar
• 1/4 cup unsweetened apple sauce (maybe a little extra)
• 1/4 cup Libby’s Pumpkin
• 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups quick oats
• 3/4 cup Nestle dark chocolate chips

Throw it all into a mixer and turn it on low. If it looks too dry, add applesauce or pumpkin as you see fit. Then, divide on to cookie sheets and bake at 350 for 7 or 8 minutes–depending if you want them crispy or chewy!

They are delicious. And with no eggs, oil, or butter and made with whole wheat flour, you can afford to have a few more than normal–I think I usually cap myself at 4 a day. No, I’m not kidding. Enjoy!

****I forgot to take pictures and for that, I apologize. But I didn’t want to forget the amazing recipe, nor did I want to rob you of the chance to pig out on a healthy chocolate chip cookie :)

Little Miss Independent

EI’m going through a phase. And I really, really hate it. You know when you’re stuck in a rut and you know you’re stuck in a rut and it’s frustrating, but the only thing more frustrating than being stuck in that rut is figuring out how to get out of that rut? If you followed that logic, give yourself a high five.

When I moved to LA six months ago, I was NOT ready for all the alone time I would be getting. I cried, cried, cried like a little baby. Ask my poor boyfriend, who at one point was probably pretty scared to call me because every time he had to hang up, I’d be all weepy. I didn’t have much of a social life in LA because 1. I didn’t know anyone and no one wants to be friends with a temporary resident and 2. I’m a pretty good Christian girl who doesn’t really drink much and while people say “you don’t have to drink to have fun!” they’re not exactly beating on your door to go to sober happy hour.

So, for six months, I did a lot of stuff alone. I ran in the mornings alone (a habit I picked up in college because I need some alone time from roommates–ironic, right?), had breakfast alone, had dinner alone, watched The Bachelor (anyone else infatuated with Bachelor Ben like I am?) alone, and spent weekends exploring, hiking, shopping, or hitting the beach alone. Don’t feel too sorry for me, I definitely had a few friends. But I spent a lot of time being by myself. And it was okay because I knew it was temporary.

Alone again, alone again

Of course, now the issue is, I’m back in Indiana/Michigan–my midwest people–and I’m struggling a little. It’s like I’m re-entering society and it’s awkward. I feel like a kid going into middle school. And I feel selfish. And like there’s something wrong with me. Which there totally is because I got used to being alone…I even started to like it (I know, I know, it’s a social mistake to admit that you actually enjoy selfishly spending your time doing whatever you want) and now I need to readjust to being with people again. It took me a few weeks to figure out how to be alone, so I figure I deserve a few weeks to figure out how to be with other people.

So that’s where I’m at today. Happy Sunday!

Tomorrow’s my second first day of work at The Company. Sympathy texts welcome.

Greetings from Fort Wayne, Indiana!

I’ve got good news, new news, and weird news. Let’s start with the weird news:

WEIRD NEWS

I haven’t been blogging for the past six months because I started a new job in LA and really, I just worked a lot. It wasn’t very interesting beyond a few cutesy pictures that would probably make you feel sad that your weather didn’t allow you to linger on the beach. Views like these were a daily thing:

Pretty, Pretty Sky

I know, jealousy right?

Well, here’s the good news for your little green eyed monster: those days are over. I’ve been transferred. Buh bye Los Angeles, hellllloooo Fort Wayne, Indiana.

GOOD NEWS

The move to Fort Wayne isn’t a demotion, although you might think that because who the hell moves to Indiana except if you’re on the Last Train and your job wants you to quit. But I assure you it was a planned move and part of my program at work. In fact, in a weird way, it’s a kind of promotion because I’ll be doing work with way more responsibility than I had in LA. I’ll be in Indiana for 18 months before I’m moved again. I moved on Wednesday and let me tell you, I now realize why they make us sign up for the moves before we actually move: moving is a pain in the butt. But, in good news, I now have my own place! No roommates! No rented furniture! No shitty insulation with jacked up rent just because the building is a three minute walk from the bar!

I didn’t take “before” pictures per se, but here’s some pictures of what I’m working with:

A bedroom for a princess. A princess with no decorations.

A couch. A bipolar couch that can't pick its pillow type.

I hear people cook in these.

If I knew three other people in Fort Wayne, I could invite them over for dinner!

Okay, so I forgot to photograph the outside or the bathroom or the laundry area. I assure you it’s all very lovely, but I have a lot of work to do. Which brings me to the…

NEW NEWS

Because my mom lives 2 hours north of me and my boyfriend is far away too, it easiest to document the home improvement journey/rants here. So wahoo, we’re going on a DIY/BIY (buy it yourself!) journey together. How excited are you? We have quite a to-do list, my friends. To give you an idea:

cover plaid chair for bedroom * create/hang pictures above bed * organize closet* small stand/mirror for hallway * vanity and storage for bathroom * redo kitchen chairs and table * new kitchen chair pads * cover pillows * find rug for table * find rug for kitchen * hang shower curtain over laundry area to hide giant ugly machines * sew curtains for bedroom, living room, and kitchen * create/hang art above couch * hang art in dining room from christmas* hang wreath on door * create/buy/restore night stand * create/buy/restore side table * redo tv stand* hang/print pictures of family and friends* create/hang hangers by door for shoes and coats* cover bipolar pillows*

And that’s just a start. I’ll keep you updated as I go. To be honest, the early stuff I’ll mostly buy because some things just can’t wait (i.e. I really need a lamp in the living room!), but other stuff will be fun to transform myself and can wait a little longer for (like the TV stand).

I might not know a soul in Indiana or have any friends, but at least I can have a craft fair in my apartment. Here we go!

Tourists in My Own Town

This past weekend, I learned the true meaning of TGIF. Seriously, I haven’t been this excited for Fridays to come since high school. If there’s one good thing that comes from working 8-5 (you know, beyond health insurance, a paycheck, and that whole economic system thing), it’s that Friday is once again cool. In college, Friday was just average because Thursday was the best day of the week, since MSU schedules few classes for Friday. But here in corporate world, I’m all about the TGIF. Not the restaurant though. That’s gross.

Anyways, after work on Friday, I rolled out to Burbank, California to hang out with my dear friend Abby, the cutest actress if you’ve ever seen. If you haven’t already caught her on Lifetime or the Disney Channel, keep your eyelids peeled because she’ll hopefully be on CBS before too long. In the meantime, this picture was snapped of us:

She's a model and wearing no make up and just got out of the college. How do some girls do that?

We played a game of Happy Hour and as the loser of the “Who’s the DD” game, I was driving and sipped on my diet cokes. I had like 4. You can take the girl out of Michigan, but you can’t take the Diet Coke out of the girl.

We woke up extra early on Saturday to get in a run before we headed to Zuma Beach in Malibu. It was gorgeous:

This is Malibu at 10:45 am. By noon, I couldn’t have snapped this picture because the beach would be too filled with people to get a clear shot. Apparently we weren’t the only ones that thought it was a good day for tanning.

Speaking of tanning, I forgot to put sunscreen on one leg. Which means from my butt down to my ankle is FRIED. Bright red. And not in a cute way. I’m in pants for the week because I don’t think having too different colored legs is very professional.

We spent the day there, then I spent the night at home in Glendale relaxing, grocery shopping, and trying to explain to my neighbor Scott that an 850 calorie burrito from El Pollo Loco doesn’t make for a nutritious meal, even when paired with salsa and Tollhouse Cookies.

Sunday morning was another big jog and then we were off to the Hollywood Farmers market. I’m a naughty blogger and forgot to take pictures of the street food, but it was mouth watering. The prices were way higher than in Michigan, but the food was lovely and I had my radar on the entire time hoping to spot a celeb. They must have all been recovering from the Kardashian Wedding in Santa Barbara the night before because I left celebrity-less.

Afterwards, we went up and down the Hollywood strip to get some pics of us being extra toursity:

Afterwards, I went to church because I’m a grown up and grown ups do things like go to church. And like pay their own bills. And stuff. Or so I’m told.

In other news, I totally had a case of the Mondays today. The best part about Monday is when it’s over. Only four more days until a weekend filled with big piers, old friends, and attempting to avoid the high cost of living that comes with a so-Cal lifestyle.

Until the Sun Comes Up Over Santa Monica Boulevard

As I’ve mentioned before, I recently put on my big girl pants and got a J-O-B. For those of us who are still in school, that means I stopped sucking on the tit of Cliff and Ann. Just kidding. I’m still riding their coat tails in many, many ways, just now I have to pay my own rent.

Unlike Michigan, there’s actually things to do in California on the weekends. And it’s not even like, a four hour drive up north away. This past weekend, my little work friends and I drove up to Santa Monica:

I took this picture and then filitered it on Instagr.am If you like pictures and you don't do this, you're totally missing out.

Santa Monica is busier than the busiest town in Michigan, but it probably has a whackjob to normal people ratio of 2:1. There are a lot of crazy people here. I would recommend putting your child on a leash if you decide to venture out this way, just so none of the boardwalk performers/crazy christians try and sweep them up or conver them or something.

That said, it’s really beautiful:

See? Totally cool, right? If you spent the weekend in DeWitt, you must be completely jealous right now, which is mostly the point of this entry. To make sure you’re jealous and will come visit me immediately.

We drove to Santa Monica a little after 11 am, getting a late start because two of us went to the post office to mail home some snacks to our friends and family. Which is where we learned the hard way that we will no longer be mailing home snacks. Do you know how expensive that is? The postal system needs to start offering a welfare program. Or at least let me trade like, part of my soul for a reduced rate.

Once in Santa Monica, we strolled up and down the pier, mostly so we could get to the end where there was a public restroom and I really had to pee. I had to avoid temptation of buying you guys some really cool presents though. For example, for five bucks, I could take a picture with a cardboard cutout of my favorite celebrity. Pretty smart business plan by that entrepeanuer, considering every mall in America has a cardboard cutout of Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus. There was also roller coasters, carnival food, a guy holding a snake, and a man dressed up in a gorilla suit dancing to his ipod. In Michigan, the bums just kind of look at you. At least in California they attempt to entertain.

We hit the beach afterwards, which was gorgeous (except not as gorgeous as Lake Louise, of course). I forced my roommate to take a bazillion pictures in the ocean because IT WAS THE OCEAN and when you’re from the midwest, these are rare opportunities. Salt water, you guys!

Instagr.am is amazing.

With such pretty pictures and witty words, have I convinced you to come visit me yet? Please?

My Recent Abandonment

I would like to call CPS and report that my parents flew me to California and abandoned me, however, after some investigation into child abuse laws, it turns out that deserting your child in a fully furnished apartment, complete with food and new clothes, in Southern California when she’s 22 years old, isn’t technically abandonment. Needless to say, a social worker has not be assigned to my case and my parents are not yet in jail. Not that they should sleep soundly, either. I won’t stop until they come let me revert into my childhood.

As you may have discovered, I’ve recently left the world of lollipops and rainbows and been shipped off into the Real World. And unlike MTV’s version, this doesn’t include binge drinking in a mansion all day. Nope, I work. 8 to 5. Every day. For the rest of my life. Holy depressing. Does anyone else find it a little upsetting that you go to school for 18 years only to be cut off by your parents at the end of it? Like, making me work hard labor every day isn’t bad enough…now you’re going to make me sink or swim alone? Thanks guys. It’s like I just got cut from Team Flood.

I’ve always made fun of my daddy for being tightwad, but it turns out, I am too. I got his overbite, his dyslexia, and apparently, his stingeness. Now that I’m 100% responsible for my own bank account, I watch that thing like it’s my premature infant in the NICU. I budget every. single. penny. If my lunch cost $5.36, you bet your ass that I’ve marked that amount in at least two spreadsheets. And then I instantly start calculating ways to have a cheaper lunch. Of course, I live in So-Cal, so the odds of me getting a cheaper lunch that’s just as healthy is pretty small, but I guess in a former life I lived through the depression because I’m totally going to try.

I also have a new distaste for any student on facebook or twitter that complains about classes. Is it hard for your little ass to sit in a lecture hall on the internet, not paying attention? No. It’s not. So stop complaining. Talk to me when you have to get up at 5:30 am to run before work because then you work all day and after work, you’re so exhausted from sitting in one position all day that you literally cannot move. Yeah, let’s chat then, you little demons.

Obviously, I’m ready to retire. I’ve been working for 3 days now, so my 401k is probably almost ready to be cashed in, right?

The Little Shirt That Gave Me Faith

It’s pretty common knowledge by now that my first year of college was, shall we say, a little rocky. I mean, I made three friends (which is about .000001% of the U-M population) and spent the majority of my time either studying until my eyes shut or tackling my transfer application.

I found Michigan very, very tough. The school work wasn’t impossible, but I really struggled with the transition from being completely dependant on my parents to being on my own. I actually feel like this stage of life is hard for a lot of people, but back in 2007, it wasn’t something I felt anyone else was going through. Everyone else seemed to love college. What was wrong with me? In hindsight? Nothing was wrong with me. I came from a happy home and was put in a new environment that was tough…of course I would struggle. Just because there are 4,000 other kids around you that are new to Ann Arbor doesn’t at all lessen the face that you’re new to AA too. Life’s a tricky bitch that way.

I headed back home a lot my first year away. I had my high school boyfriend back at MSU and I was happy to see my parents, but I always cried and cried on my way back to school. The feeling I got going back to Michigan is the same feeling I get now when I run out of wine: “OOOHHH NOOOOO! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? HOW WILL I SURVIVE ANOTHER MOMENT?” No, I’m not an alcholic. Yes, I really like cheap wine, especially the kind from bags.

On one particular trip back, very early in my first year of college (think early October), my mom saw my poor little eyes whell up with tears and because I was very pitiful looking, she decided to give me a gift. I present to you, the little shirt that could:

It's a little small, a little worn, and a little perfect

This shirt, which has no tags on it, so I have no idea where it’s from or what size it is, is the same shirt my mom wore through every exam in law school. She gave it to me and told me to wear it for exams, study hard, have a little faith, and I’d never do poorly. It was a risky statement by her…but it worked.

I wore that shirt religiously. I’m not superstituious, but I would not take exams without it. Of course, there were rules. It was for exams only; quizzes, presentations, papers…it stayed in the closet. But for exams, I HAD to wear it, which often meant outfit changes midday or running a mile back to my house before class if I forgot it. This shirt is from before I was born, which means it’s from before my mom transformed into Fitness Barbie. So, it’s not only too wide, but it comes to maybe my midriff. And I’m 22 now…I’m not interested in showing my belly button ring and minor wine gut off to my classmates. So, if I wore it, I had to put a sweatshirt over it. Do you know what it’s like to wear a sweatshirt in August? Hot, baby. But I never failed.

After something like 24 finals, 30 midterms, and a million other exams, I graduated from college. I was a little stumped with what to do with the shirt. I thought about giving it away to a new freshman who needed some extra love, but I could’t really find anyone who would apprecite the four years I’d put into it, not to mention the three years of law school my own mom had worn it through. I left it hanging (oh yes, this shirt always is on a hanger, despite the fact that it is 25 years old) in my closet and when it was time to move to LA, I couldn’t decide what to do. But in the end, the answer was easy.

Of course I would bring it with me. This shirt is my secruity blanket and now instaed of wearing it through tough days, I sleep with it at night. Someday, I’ll give it to my own little girl, but when that happens, I’ll be able to tell her how the shirt went to law school, college, and then through my early twenties. If my mom and I can get through those tough times, she can too.

Tough times come and go, friends change, relationships fade, but if you’re really lucky, your family is always there and you always have a little bit of them to hold on to at night.

Mommin’ it up: Tuesday Boozeday

Don’t worry, I’m not actually suggesting you serve booze to your kids on Tuesdays, although I suspect that I will indulge in a glass of white wine throughout my adult life, simply because just the idea of working 8 to 5 makes me need a drink. Today’s recipe is for Asian Pineapple Chicken. The yummy taste comes from the pineapple juice and using a variety of bell peppers makes it so pretty!

I like my food like I like my shoes: pretty

So why is this for Tuesday? Well, I don’t really eat red meat, so chicken is the basis of my meals in general. Still this is for Tuesday because it’s still pretty quick, but it also allows you to cut up your chicken the day before and use of it for your crockpot and put the other half way until you need it today. Am I smart or what? My MSU degree says “Yes, with honors.”

Ingredients:
-chicken tenderloins, tenderolin painstainkly cut out and cut into bite sized pieces (1-2 lbs is fine)
-peppers in a vareity of colors (3 will probably do the trick)
-fish saunce (soy sauce works too!)
-pineapple (1-2 cups, cut into bite sized chunks)
-1 tablespoon EVOO
-1 teaspoon ginger
-2 garlic cloves, finely minced

Directions:
-In a saucepan, heat 1/2 tablespoon oil. While it warms up, put the chicken into a bowl and pour fish oil over it. Then, toss with cornstarch.
-Add chicken to pan. Let it cook. If your pan is like mine, it’ll get a little sticky with the chicken. That’s okay, that’s why we have more than one pan to work with. No problem.
-Chop the vegetables while your chicken is heating. I’d recoomend watching some food network at this point, just to get your tummy turning.
-When chicken is done, remove it from heat and place a new pan onto heat. I usually use a sauce pan at this point. Add 1/2 tablespoon oil, ginger, and garlic to heat.
-Add vegetables and pineapple, stirfrying until vegetables are crispy. Add chicken and stirfry an additional few minutes, coating the chicken with the pineapple juice.

Depending on how much chicken you use, this recipie carries around 175/calorie per 1.25 cup serving. If you have kids, you can serve it over rice to make it a more balanced and carb-rif

Dessert: Leftovers from yesterday! Now your kids are getting fruit and you don’t have to exert an extra effort. Cheers to you, Super Mom.