On Better Late Than Never

It's just before 6 a.m. in Hawaii, and I'm sitting on my lanai (balcony) with a little tiny bird near my feet. Yesterday some birds flew into my hotel room, hung out for awhile, and then fluttered back out, all made up of calm and air and light. This morning I couldn't sleep because of the cacophony of the birds, the hundreds of these little singing featherpuffs living inside the tree near my balcony. This is sort of endearing, and sort of annoying, but mostly it's just different. I could curl up inside of anything different and live there forever.

So far, this trip has been sock-rocking. It's funny, I never want to go to places like Hawaii because I often feel they're overdone. Everyone goes to Hawaii, therefore, it's not special anymore, right? What a stupid, snobby way to think. Travel is the same (sometimes) as literature - there is a reason that certain places (books) are beloved. Maui is exceptional. It's so beautiful it's irritating. It's so joyously colorful and bright that it's stupid. I could live here forever and never grow tired of those mountains and that sea. 

The photos below, of me wearing a bikini on a beach, happened on day one, and I need to memorialize them here. I have wanted this moment since I was old enough to understand that girls are supposed to be beautiful and thin, and if they aren't, they have somehow failed at girlhood and should be whole-bodily ashamed. I absorbed that lesson young. Definitely before my teenage years, and possibly before I was 10. I have spent my entire youth loathing this body, instead of loving it.

I wish I knew at any point in time that the power to feel beautiful is always in your own hands. You can either find it by being healthy and fit, which then (as a little bonus) conforms you to certain societal standards, or you can buck all of that and just be confident with what you have, but either way - the power to feel gorgeous has always been inside of you. No one ever took it from you. You just gave it away. 

I'll be 32 in a few weeks. I had the idea that, when I lost weight, a svelte 19 year old body would pop out. Obviously, I've been wildly disappointed in that. My body is every inch of my age. But yesterday I walked on the beach for a few miles with my husband. Then I sprinted a quick mile in the hotel gym, then I lifted weights for an hour. Later that day I ate a big lunch, a huge ice cream cone, and drank a sugary tropical drink. Then I swam in the ocean. I feel bad about none of it. I felt alive and healthy and vital. Which is gorgeous. Finally. 

Cheering Fans/Too Much Coffee

Hear ye, hear ye!

For those looking for the answer to life (the universe, and everything?) I have found it. Are you ready? Are you prepared to know, finally, the unknowable? Read on, dear ones.

The answer to life is - wait for it - working out in the morning.

I know, I know, getting up early is generally a shitty answer for anything. But I am telling you, this has been the missing link of my entire shabby life. Try it. Consider the following:

Scenario #1: Stay up way too late reading 17 blogs of people you've (mostly) never met until your eyes start to tear from the computer glare. Definitely be unable to fall asleep, and be angry about it, for a very long time. When your alarm goes off at 7:00 a.m., hit snooze every five minutes for one entire hour. Get up with the momentum and grace of a 75 year old arthritic grandpa. Stare at your weird hair in the mirror despondently for awhile while pumping yourself with caffeine. Snap out of your reverie when the dog barks. Commence racing around in wild panic to leave the apartment on time. Absolutely fail at this. Definitely do not leave yourself enough time to pack a lunch, put on makeup, or dry your hair. Arrive at work late and entirely disheveled. Feel like death, loathe yourself, hate the earth. Definitely don't become remotely productive until at least 10:00 a.m.

Scenario #2: Go to bed early, like a real person. Set your alarm for 6:30 a.m. Actually obey that goddamn thing and haul your ass up. Drink coffee while staring out window at rising sun, already feeling mildly triumphant and zen-like. Leave by 7:00. Arrive at gym by 7:30. Work out like a killer warrior girl for one entire hour. Imagine stands full of jubilant fans screaming themselves hoarse at your victory over your sloth-like self. Do extra crunches, saluting them in your mind. Get ready for work in the gym's dreamy, spa-like locker room, pretending you're in a fancy hotel as you help yourself to an extra towel. Revel in avoiding your own dirty apartment bathroom, where you ran out of toilet paper days ago and the stack of napkins you use as replacements are running low. Remind yourself to buy more toilet paper later. In your wild confidience, faintly believe you'll actually remember this later. Get to work on time, looking presentable. With actual makeup on your actual face. Begin takeover of planet earth.

Happy Friday.