Life with Dudes Never Looked So Pretty
It’s that time of year again –when gym memberships ramp up and people start looking for weight loss programs that will help them meet that “lose 10 pounds” New Year’s resolution they’ve been making for the past 15 years straight. It’s all good. I’m right there with you, vowing to make this the year I get back in shape. Just like I did last year,
Ivy Park. The Internet can barely stop buzzing about it. If you’ve been rock dwelling as of late, let me catch you up to speed. A few weeks back, Beyonce announced she was soon to be launching a hip, cool fitness clothing line called Ivy Park. She used different words and she said it with a music video of some sort and, as expected everyone
I love working out. My kind of working out. Just to be clear, I’m not talking about running, or yoga, or doing one of those Jillian Andrews torture you skinny videos. I’m talking about going to the gym, at a prescheduled time, and engaging in a group fitness class of my choosing. The musical kind. Like Zumba and other Zumba like classes.* I find them
As many of you know I am in the process of a life redo. And, for those of you who know me (via this blog or via the football field), you know that I am the master of disaster when it comes to those. I makeover my life often (I love makeovers and also, I need to). Restart, reimagine, redo, resolve. That’s me. I’m basically
My parents gifted me some whole chickens recently. They order a ton of their meet farm fresh, like straight from the actual farmers. They go there, scope out the goods, and choose what they want. While I 100% appreciate fresh, free meat, something about making eye contact with my meal just makes me uneasy. So, I’m happy I just get it after it’s been, um,
Who’s hungry. OMG, y’all, I’m so hungry. I’m not even going to lie to you and tell you that this weight loss thing is a breeze. It is not a breeze. It is tornado force winds that are blowing me around the block and tangling up my hair. I so badly want to bake something delicious. Or get a milkshake from Chik-fil-A, or really anything
Another holiday season followed by another new year means that I (like so many other Americans) am reupping my commitment to health and fitness for the New Year. Only difference between me and the eleven billionty other New Years Resolutionists (that’s what I call the people who jam up my gym every January and then disappear by mid February) is that I mean it! Not
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Ummmm, liars. Words do hurt. A couple of weeks ago I had a really sad mean girls experience. It happened at a place where I usually feel so happy, a place that I’d grown to feel safe and welcome, a place that is helping me be who I want to be in
Let’s talk for a couple of quick minutes about confidence. It’s one of those things that you all know I have struggled with in the past, particularly when it comes to the body sort. I went through a really strong period in late high school and college only to kiss it goodbye shortly after when I said hello to motherhood. Body changes, life changes, hormone
