The Truth of the Matter

I’m back, baby. I’m currently writing at 4 am on what is technically day two of my April vacation. I’m about three months in to my very first job as a 7th grade ELA teacher. The exhaustion has set in as I sink in to my couch and lay in to a tall brewski [BBC coffeehouse porter, you are a thing of beauty] and reflect on what has been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, and many things in between—nonetheless my heart sings as I feel very fortunate to be surrounded by inspiring children and dedicated, innovative, brilliant people.

Many of my laughing and crying sessions have been in front of a mirror. Sometimes these episodes were predetermined, other times due to the seizure like wiggle required to secure my pants around my waist. Here she goes again, you’re thinking, but I swear, there’s an epiphany. I’ve stood by my vow. My very first post on this part-time blog/psychobabble was my declaration of freedom from the torments of the socially constructed and delusional standards set by society for my hip-to-waist ration as a creature of the female variation.

First off, my job rocks, because there are bagels. I’m sorry, but if you say you don’t like bagels, you’re a bold faced liar. Crunchy on the outside, soft and loving on the inside, spread with full fat cream cheese and yes, a sprinkle of salt…then washed down by a fresh coffee made bright and early by our saint-like janitor who also fixes the chairs children love to torment—this is what makes the sun shine. So for the first two months, on about five hours of sleep due to over planning, brooding and my love-hate relationship with grading, I somewhat mindlessly indulged in this delicacy.

I now find myself reaping the delight of being a New Englander. My relationship with snow, which many find sick, has finally expired and we’ve agreed upon irreconcilable differences. I’m ready for that big hard sun—for frisbee, Polish horseshoes (it’s past the point of political correction), and the long awaited purchase of a new bike. Not only do I want to rock my inevitable sporty-spice farmers tan, but I also want to ride this bike for more than 20 minutes without feeling like I need to lay down and die.

Okay, I skimped over wanting to look adorbs. I mean, who doesn’t? Women are darling, amazing, brilliant creatures on the inside and out, and we should be proud of our multi-faceted virtues. I will be a part of what I know will be a beautiful wedding this June as my best friend of 12 years is in preparation to walk down the aisle. Herself, along with the other bridesmaids, are some of these said multi-faceted beauties—I want to be part of this club!

I’m not going to beat myself up over not fulfilling some of my fitness goals this year, because in honesty, I have sustained what I declared to be most important of those goals: my overall health. I run around my classroom like an idiot trying to inspire or at least make laugh my sometimes stubbornly stoic students; I make sweet potato fries like a boss on the regs (with real sweet potatoes! Oh, and sea salt…can’t kick it!); I laugh a lot and cry a lot which studies say (yes, I do believe much of Women’s Health—judge meeee) are both dang good for the body and soul.

Again, I want this for you. Generally, posts of this nature are to the ladies, but if you happen to be a dude that made it this far, you too. I harp on the gals as the details of this story are the crappier end of the stick bestowed upon us—fight the power! Because it be weak, and another delusion. You’re an amazing being; an amazing animal (I swear I won’t go Darwin fan girl on you). If there is some higher power that created us, well bravo, because you my friend rule (I also won’t go theologian on you, yet…) You’re going to look purty in your maxi dress this summer because your smile will beam from you. I know this is all mushy and stuff, I’m not trying to go Janice Ian on you (even though falsely accused of what was no one else’s business), but seriously, I hope you know this.

I just wanted to get this out of my mind. I know how many women, and also sadly, young girls, unfortunately beat themselves up as the spring and summer approach. I’ve seen a lot of “no excuses,” fitness-junkie propaganda lately that I just simply don’t agree with.As I wait in line in CVS, every annoying celebrity drag-rag boasts the stars secrets to making your collar-bone pop and the best stance for not looking “gross” in the ever dreaded mike’s hard/bikini in front of the Atlantic pic. I mean, what the heck! Stuff happens—we transition in life, constantly as it’s our nature, and therefore some things fall in and out of balance. If we can just maintain the understanding that it is okay, and we’ll find our way back to what most importantly our minds and spirits, and yes bodies too need, we’re going to keep on being awesome.

Due to the craziness of all our lives, if I don’t see you, or maybe don’t know you, enjoy the reverie of spring and the bloom of summer. Take time for yourself and those you love, because you all deserve it.

Best,
Molls

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