I wiped my greasy hands on my [...]]]> Lately, every time I get on the phone with my Mama, I’m smacking on something. Chips, crackers, Rice Krispies Treat—my mouth is chewing on something. You guys know my mother pulls no punches, so one day last week she said, “Could you please stop eating on the phone?”

I wiped my greasy hands on my shirt, (classy, I know…) and told her that I was hungry and just eating a little snack.

“You’re always snacking on something. Every time I get on the phone with you, you’re eating something. Why don’t you just sit down and have a real meal if you’re that hungry?”

“I’m not that hungry to eat lunch, I just want to nibble on something.”

“You’re not nibbling—you’re eating. And all those calories you’re inhaling are going to add up. Stop all that snacking!”

She’s right of course. I do snack a lot during the day. Since retiring from hairstyling, I’ve gained probably a good ten, okay fine, fifteen pounds. The funny thing is, I’m actually eating a lot healthier than I did when doing hair. I ate a lot of fast food during my hair days, and drank waaaaayyyy too much soda. But I was active. I rarely sat down and was always moving.

Working from home has definitely slowed me down. Don’t get me wrong for health reasons I had to slow down too, but sitting in a chair all day is not good for anyone. Sure, I walk around my neighborhood a couple days a week, but apparently I’m still doing something wrong.

My culprit? Snacks.

I eat all day. I wake up give my daughter breakfast, get her off to school and then I eat breakfast. Then, I do a bit of work, and eat a snack. Then I do housework, or run errands, and I bring a snack with me. I normally skip lunch—due to all the snacking and by the time I pick up my daughter I’m ravenous and give my daughter her snack, which normally consists of fruit, while I hide in the pantry and eat her Rice Krispies Treats. (Yes, you read correctly Treats is plural. Normally this involves eating more than one…)

When dinner rolls around, I’ll eat and then an hour later it’s time for another snack. I’ll normally eat in my bed, (which of course the Hubby hates…) and call my mother, snacking away on Kettle potato chips. (My fav flavor is Salt and Fresh Ground Pepper. I can just hear me smacking now…delicious and super crunchy!) Meanwhile, my Mama is hollering that she can’t hear a word I’m saying because of my loud smacking.

So. While I love my snacks, I know there has to be a limit. This week I’ve made a conscious effort to slow things down. I eat breakfast, and two hours later I eat a piece of fruit. I make myself eat a hot lunch—normally leftovers from dinner—and I actually sit down and eat it at the table. And at night would you believe that I eat nothing after dinner? Not a bite. (Okay, well last night doesn’t count, the Hubby came in with Chinese take-out and he made me eat an eggroll. Seriously! I was forced to eat it! Not buying it? Can’t blame a girl for trying!)

The point is, I’ve noticed that working from home, the temptation to eat out of sheer boredom is strong. I’m a social person, so talking back to the TV only works for so long. So I make a point of getting out of the house with the sure intention of interacting with people. I try to stay busy, and put food in its place—as a source of fuel for my body, not as entertainment. So far so good. So there, Mama! I’m not snacking anymore. What’s that you say? That crunching sound? Ummm, would you believe me if I told you raisins?

But I find as I’m getting older, that I’ve been eating an entire meal and snacking. So of course, I’ve gained weight. Nothing terrible, I’m still skinny enough that when I mention that [...]]]> I’ve always enjoyed eating snacks rather than sitting down to eat an entire meal. Nothing heavy—popcorn, nuts, granola bars, the occasional chip.

But I find as I’m getting older, that I’ve been eating an entire meal and snacking. So of course, I’ve gained weight. Nothing terrible, I’m still skinny enough that when I mention that I need to lose weight people remark, “Lose what? Your mind?”

But I know I need to lose a couple of pounds.

And I’m simply going to walk it off.

Walking helped me lose (most) of my pregnancy weight and it’s something I enjoy, especially when I get to go outside. (I have a few walking DVD’s that sustain me during bad weather.)

I refuse to set myself up for failure by saying that I won’t eat this, or I won’t touch that. Food-wise, I plan to:

1. Drink more water.

2. Have a fruit and a vegetable with every meal.

3. Eat more whole-grains.

4. Take my vitamins. (Everyday, not just when I feel like it.)

That, coupled with walking is all I’m going to do. (Don’t get me wrong, I plan to lift some weights here and there. Got to keep those arms toned. Thanks a lot, Michelle Obama.)

I still plan on indulging myself with a sweet treat now and then, but I think if I include more of the good stuff, I won’t feel so bad about eating the bad stuff.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

As a writer I can be a heavy weight to carry. What I mean is, writers need so much from other people–we need admiration, praise, encouragement–we need so much from our family and friends that I can only imagine what they think of me.

As a hairstyist, I’m used to rejection. It’s [...]]]>

Source: everymantri.com

As a writer I can be a heavy weight to carry. What I mean is, writers need so much from other people–we need admiration, praise, encouragement–we need so much from our family and friends that I can only imagine what they think of me.

As a hairstyist, I’m used to rejection. It’s part of the business. If someone doesn’t like their hair, you tell them to pay up and keep moving. (Don’t worry I wasn’t that tough.) I rarely took my work home, I simply shrugged it off.

Being a new writer feels just like when I started doing hair. I’d come home beaten and bruised, confidence smashed to pieces. But after a long talk with my parents I would get back out there, day after humiliating day, until I perfected my look and got people to come back to me. I depended on my parents to tell me that I was talented and that, with practice, I would succeed.

The same goes for writing. I have enough rejection letters that I could wall-paper my living room. And I have to admit, some days I feel beat down, depressed, and just plain ‘ole not good enough. On those days my husband   scrapes me off the floor and reminds me to keep pushing, keep fighting, soon the story I want to tell will be told. He gets me to change my perspective and continually reminds me that I’m a published author. So many people cannot say that.

I know I’m a heavy load to carry sometimes. (Alright all the time). But the more I learn about writing the more the dialogue switches to internal. I’m learning to pick myself off the floor, to tell myself that I am good enough. But for now it feels good to know that someone has my back, and can carry me when the going gets rough.