Oh, YOU-niverse.

Last night I went and had drinks with my improv class, with whom I am falling in love more and more each week. There's only 5 of us in the class, which is very small, but makes for a lot of stage time for each of us and it's like we're our own little team already. Everyone has different performance backgrounds (commedia, circus, stand-up, improv, regular ole theatre) and we have all been in a variety of places in the world. So finally, after our 5th class (we're over halfway finished!), we went out for drinks and played "get to know you" games, in which, I don't know, I was outspoken about my advocating marijuana usage and certain hedonism made popular by Sex And The City and apparently knowing CPR is too normal for me (we played "3 Truths and 1 lie" - knowing CPR was my lie. Don't expect me to save your life) - I got labeled as "The Hippie." I really don't have a problem with this as I've determined I was born 30 years too late anyway and I know it was an affectionate pigeon-holing, but it still made me a little, I don't know, withdrawn. Misunderstood. And then I sealed the deal by screaming at a car that almost knocked us down on Hennepin, "SLOW THE FUCK DOWN, ASSHOLE!" My classmate looked at me a little sideways and I said, "Sorry, sometimes the New York comes out" (especially after 3 large gin and tonics). He said, "I understand." But I don't think he really did.

I rode my bike home convincing myself that as long as I am who I am, I will attract people to me who appreciate me for me. And I felt good about it, unlike how I may have felt 5 years ago when I might have looked for methods to overcome my Courtney-ness.

Then I got this note from the Universe this morning:

Of course not everyone understands you, Courtney.
It takes crazy to know crazy.
It takes sexy to know sexy.
And most assuredly, it takes cool to know cool.

Society's stranglehold takes another victim

I told myself I wouldn't do it. I knew, from four months of looking at my naked body in the mirror that the weeks and weeks of inactivity and Midwestern meat-eating were taking their toll on my metabolically-challenged (thanks to the nature of aging) temple. I didn't need to do it, but alas, in my new place of residence there lives in the bathroom... a scale. And I stepped on it. And I discovered that I am the heaviest I have ever been, having gained about 10 pounds after moving out here. Which means that I am just under 25 pounds heavier than my "happy weight."

I am of the belief that a person's weight is not indicative of their health, necessarily, unless of course we're talking super overweight. But if you live in your "healthy weight range," you can be on the high end of that range and still be really healthy because of bone-size or because muscle weighs more than fat, etc. But I am at the very heaviest of my healthy weight range and lemme tell you, I'm a medium-frame person and not very strong right now. So I did 25 sit-ups and 10 push-ups last night. Not a lot, but more than I usually do!

I have watched myself balloon and not fit into my favorite pants and not get to wear my tight slogan t-shirts I love. I haven't stuck with my yoga program or my goal of "total vitality" (except for the quitting-smoking-again thing, which is arguably the most important) and I have yet to go to a Tae Kwon Do class. Again, I will allow myself some slack for the "winter weight," but my self-esteem has taken a bit of a slapping about as a result of this new-found flabbiness and it's not only affecting my wardrobe choices, but my sex life as well. As in, I just don't feel sexy. It's a horrible feeling.

I know I still have the body that many women would love to have. I don't give a crap. Sure, I'm grateful for what I have, but I'm even more grateful for what I know I can be. I blow a lot of hot air about nutrition and health and I'm just not practicing what I preach. I can't wait for the weather to pick up so that I can go ride my bike again. And also to make some headway financially so that I can join the Y and do some water fitness classes or something.

But for now, I'll do my sit-ups and jumping jacks and anything else I feel like that will be getting me off my ass.