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peterbarron13-blog · 5 years

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From A Skinny Kid To Dubai Fitness Pro - Exceptional Fitness Journey Of Peter Barron

In 2014, Peter Barron visited Dubai on holiday, fell in love with the city and never looked back. “I could see massive potential in fitness here. I knew it was the right career choice,” says the cheeky chap of his massive move to the UAE.

Barron took an extended leave of work from his medical career and set up a fitness company in Dubai. It grew— and so did his social media. Today Barron has 105k followers on Instagram and regularly posts intense workout videos to his page. Here’s how it began and the things he’s learned along the way.

Clearly you’re into fitness. When did it start?

Growing up, football was the only thing I wanted to do. I’m sure I learned to kick a ball before I could crawl! (Laughs)

I played for a semi-professional team in Ireland. When I was 17, I went on trial with a football club in the UK. I thought I worked hard enough, but I sort of failed a few fitness tests and was sent home to work on that — ironic, really. I didn’t have enough faith in myself, so I never went back.

This is actually what drove me to start studying health and fitness. I didn’t want others to make the same mistakes I had made. My dad would always say to me: hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard. Finally, years later, I believe him.

Now we heard teenage you wasn’t very good at listening…

I was always very skinny growing up and it never really bothered me. A few months before going to the UK foot- ball trials I knew I needed to work on my strength and fitness. I got a workout plan from a top coach and my parents converted our garage to a gym.

I was so excited, but as a 16-year-old, I completely ignored what my coach said. (Because what could he tell me that I didn’t know at 16!) I used the gym to see how much I could press. Every kid wants a big chest, right? (Laughs)

All these mistakes on my fitness journey had to happen to lead me where I am today. I tell people not to look back, and see mistakes as building blocks to achieving those goals.

We’ve seen you jogging around with a particular UAE running club. What’s that all about?

In 2016, Adidas launched their running club in Dubai. I was hired as a coach and helped the group grow to over 2,000 members by 2017. I met so many amazing people throughout the year. I’d highly recommend the group — it’s more than just a running club.

You mentioned a family death recently — right around the time we asked you to be on the cover…

Yeah. A few days before you guys reached out, my grand- dad passed away. His name was also Peter Barron. I know how proud he would have been of all of this, and that makes it extra special for me.

On a lighter note, when I was 20 I had to get surgery, and it was something that made me pretty self conscious. Right after the massive surgery, when the wound was large and fresh, I asked if it would heal or if there would be seriously rough scarring. The surgeon made a joke that stuck with me. She said: ‘It will heal fine, but let’s just say you’ll never be a cover model on a magazine.’

Of course she was a really nice woman and didn’t mean anything by it. We laughed about it, but I did leave that hospital thinking how to prove her wrong! (Laughs) I’ve not been in touch since 2010, so I’ll track her down and send her a copy. (Grins)

Sounds like you’re pretty determined. Was there ever a time when you felt less motivated?

It was hard to motivate myself after failing my fitness test when I was on trial in the UK. In my mind, my dream was over and I was going to have to settle for second best.

I spent weeks feeling down and de-motivated. Then I started to meditate to clear my mind, read motivational books and listen to podcasts from authors such as Jack Canfield, Tim Ferris, Echart Tolle and Tony Robbins.

This helped switch my mindset, teaching me to find the positive in every situation, good or bad.

Everything in life happens for a reason, and what is meant for you won’t pass you by. I live by this, so even when things seem bad I know that something better is just around the corner.

Ok, we totally agree. So is mental health a big thing for you?

Mental health is something I think is very important and something everyone should look after. If your mind is in the right place I think everything else in your life will follow.

Have you ever had a day where you wake up angry or feeling down and somehow everything that day becomes negative? You spill your coffee on your shirt, you’re late for work, and your car breaks down? This only seems to hap- pen to me when I feel negative. I’m not saying you can never feel down but it knows how to recognize and improve your mindset.

If I feel down or tired the only way for me to clear my mind is to exercise, run, play football, and lift weights, any way to release those happy hormones (endorphins). I also try to meditate or be mindful for a few minutes each day. Seriously just two minutes day done right can make a big difference.

I also try being grateful more often for everything I have in my life. Smile more, this sounds stupid but try it. Smile right now and I guarantee you will feel happier. If not, I’m sorry for wasting your time. It works for me. (Laughs)

What would you say to someone who is new to fitness?

Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

No matter how much you know. Someone out there always knows more. Be open to other people’s opinion and don’t be afraid to ask for advice even if you think you know everything.

I have worked in the fitness industry for nearly 10 years and even now I will be the first person to ask another coach for advice or for their opinion. Dubai is filled with top class coaches, use this to your advantage and if you are struggling in any aspect of your journey. Ask for help. Also, make training part of your lifestyle, not a chore.

Make it something you want to do. Find a reason for why you’re doing this, like a goal. Then just get it done.

All that makes sense. So us about your diet. Are you scoffing pancakes on Saturday? Swigging protein? What?

Guys, I’m going to say something you might already know: balance. Balance is the only option that works with nutrition.

For me, after experimenting with different styles, I know that around 2,500 to 3,000 calories per day works best. It allows me to stay fit and give 100 percent at every training session. I’m more about staying fit than thinking about overall body fat percentage and weight.

I love eating pizza, burgers, and basically ‘bad food’ — but there really isn’t any such thing. Your body doesn’t know anything other than macronutrients and what the food breaks down to. Portion control is the key.

It’s all about fitting these types of food into your weekly intake while keeping an eye on your overall calories.

I’ve been using a meal prep company called Pura for the last year. This makes my life so much easier. They give me five meals a day and it basically simplifies everything, while helping me reach my goals.

Thanks, now we’re hungry. Changing topic… something surprising about you?

I have had over 50 stitches in my face throughout my life. I used to run head first at a 45degree angle as a child. I hit my head a lot, fell through a window. Almost gave my mum and dad a nervous break- down on numerous occasions… Then I was in a car crash at 17 and that was over 30 stitches in my face alone. (Laughs)

Glad you stopped that running habit. Talk to us about your pretty massive social media following.

When I started on social media, I used it to track my progress and to hold myself accountable for what I was doing in the gym. I started to create short workout videos for people to try. When I began receiving messages from people that were trying the workouts and sharing their fitness journeys with me, it really motivated me to keep working hard to get fitter and stronger— just like they were.

Social media isn’t all kittens and avo toast (although there’s plenty of that, to be hon- est). Are there any weird pressures you face because of it?

I think the pressure that can be associated with being on social media comes from the fact that we will often compare our lives to that of friends or strangers. We receive constant updates of how “perfect” their lives are and try seeking this in our own life. It can lead to us worrying that our life isn’t as exciting or that we haven’t accomplished as much as our peers.

Sometimes I get anxiety from spending too much time staring into my screen on Instagram or any other social media channels. I try to take a few days every month where I completely stay off social media and make sure to keep on top of real life interactions with friends and family. (Laughs.) Basically remember what it is like to have a proper face to face conversation!

Social media is an amazing tool but It can take over your life very easily so make sure to detox often.

What’s next? We see you working out a lot with our Gal of the Month, Zoe (instagram.com/zoehappyfit).

Yes you do! At the moment I’m focusing on creating YouTube content with Zoe. We’re looking at food, workouts, and healthy lifestyle. Check out #peterandzoe to try some of our workouts.

Blog Source URL: https://www.peterbarron13.com/from-a-skinny-kid-to-dubai-fitness-pro-exceptional-fitness-journey-of-peter-barron/

#personal fitness trainer dubai #fitness trainer Dubai #fitness professionals dubai #gym personal trainer #health counseling services

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fluidityandgiggles · 6 years

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The Plastics: Phase 2

(Phase 1 - part 1, part 2)

—————

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart!” Roman was looming over the sink, trying his best not to stare at his boyfriend.

His very much shirtless boyfriend.

Roman knew how much Virgil loved his 7-Eleven slurpees. (Part of him liked the fact that his boyfriend was a less-homicidal version of JD.) But sadly, so did Remy. So when Remy told Roman to throw Virgil’s slurpee at him... he couldn’t argue against that.

It was Remy, after all.

But he isn’t going to complain about his boyfriend being shirtless.

“It’s perfectly fine, it was just a slurpee.” Virgil gave Roman a smile that he would never be caught, dead or alive, giving to anyone. “Just... do you have a spare shirt?”

“Do you mind that it’s Wednesday?”

—

Having lunch with the Plastics was like leaving the real world and entering “Popular World”. And Popular World had a lot of rules.

“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row,” Roman told me. “And we only wear track pants on Fridays.”

Well... let’s consider the issue with the statement. That day, both Remy and Roman were wearing jeans. Remy’s blue, and Roman’s white. Their shirts were pink, though.

And Emile... yeah. He was in a skirt.

“I mean, not just you. Like, any of us. Okay, like, if I was wearing track pants today, I would be sitting over there with the drama kids.” Emile started giggling. “You think this is a joke? Drama club is not a joke.”

“We know, Roman.”

“Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group.” Understandable. “Well, I mean, you wouldn’t buy clothes without asking your friends first if they look good on you.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Right. Oh, and it’s the same with guys.” I think this was when Roman’s leg started jumping. “Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”

And then Roman looked at Virgil. Who was playing with a pair of aviators. Well... if I had to guess...

“A hundred and twenty calories, and forty-eight calories from fat...” So Remy could read labels. Nice. “What percent is that?”

“Forty-eight into one-twenty...?”

“I’m only eating foods with less than 30% calories from fat.”

“It’s 40%.” The confused looks I got from Remy and Roman were... weird. Let’s call them weird. “Well, 48 over 120 equals X over 100, and then you cross-multiply and get the value of X.”

“...whatever. I’m getting cheese fries.”

Sure, Remy. Sure.

As soon as Remy got away, though... Roman started talking. “So, have you seen any guys that you think are cute yet?”

“We’re all gay here,” Emile said. I think to himself. I hope to himself.

“Well...” Better be honest. “There’s this guy in my calculus class-”

“Who is it?”

“It’s a senior?” Yes, Roman. It’s a senior.

“His name’s Patton Graham.”

If I had to compare this moment to anything... it would probably be a bomb drop. Roman started a chorus of “no”s, with Emile joining in every now and again.

“Oh no, you can’t like Patton Graham!”

The literal angel descended from heaven to grace this world with his beauty and overall being? Sure. Why? Can you explain why, Roman? Huh? You wanna try an explanation, bitch?

“That’s Remy’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh.

“They went out for a year.” Thankfully, this was said by Emile. Roman’s voice was starting to annoy me.

“Yeah.” And... we’re back. “And he was devastated when Patton broke up with him last summer.”

“I thought he dumped him for Ollie Hendricks.”

“Okay, irregardless. Ex-boyfriends are just off-limits to friends. I mean, that’s just, like... the rules of feminism. Or something.”

I swear I heard Virgil snort.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never tell Remy what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”

I seriously doubted it.

—

“We define the sum of the infinite geometric series...”

Even though I wasn’t allowed to like Patton, I was still allowed to look at him. And think about him. And talk to him.

“Hey, Pat-”

“Hey, you’re the Africa guy, right?” A guy (who, to be fair, looks like a top hat would just fit him perfectly, he’s just that kind of creepy) asked me. As I was going to talk to Patton.

Rude much?

“Yeah.”

“I’m Dorian Pechmann, captain of the North Shore Mathletes. We participate in math challenges against other high schools around the state, and we’re missing a member. You should think about joining.”

“Oh, you’d be perfect for it!” Our teacher - Ms. Torres - jumped in.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Great, great. Let me give you my card!”

This guy has a card...?

‘Dorian Pechmann - Math Enthusiast/Bad-ass M.C.’

It even includes his phone number. Lovely.

“Okay, so... think it over. Cause we’d like to actually compete this year.”

Okay...

—

Patton actually almost talked to me later that day, if only Remy didn’t pull up near the football field and screamed “get in, loser, we’re going shopping!”

Remy is like the Barbie doll I never had. I’d never seen anybody so glamorous.

“So how do you like North Shore?” Emile asked me in the mall.

“It’s good. I think I’m joining the mathletes.”

And again with the booming chorus of no.

“You cannot do that,” Remy said. Incredibly harsh for a valley girl. “This is social suicide. Damn, you are so lucky you have us to guide you!”

And then Roman spaced out. And I could see why. Over in the shop we were passing...

There was Virgil.

I was starting to suspect more and more.

Being at Old Orchard Mall kind of reminded me of being home in Africa. By the watering hole. When the animals are in heat.

“Oh my god there’s Jason!”

“Where? ...oh, there he is.”

“And he’s with Taylor Wedell!”

Remember Jason? From the cafeteria? Yeah. The poor person he was now picking up...

Was a girl.

“I heard they’re going out.”

“Wait...” Remy’s smirk grew into a vicious smile. If we can call it that. “Jason’s not going out with Taylor. No. He cannot blow you off like that. He’s such a little skeez. Give me your phone.”

“You’re not gonna call him... right?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No.”

It took Remy exactly three seconds to dial up a number - how exactly? - and ask for “Wedell on South Boulevard.”

“Caller ID-”

“Not when you connect from Information.” And then, “Hello, may I please speak to Taylor Wedell?”

I swear his voice became more feminine when he said that.

“Oh, this is Susan from Planned Parenthood. I have her test results. If you could have her give me a call as soon as she can. It’s urgent. Thank you!”

And then, “she’s not going out with anyone.”

“Okay,” Roman said, finally smiling. “That was so fetch!”

It took just a couple seconds after that for Taylor Wedell to run away screaming.

—

Remy’s house was bigger than I have ever known a house to be. His step-mom was incredibly plastic-y, like a tv trophy wife or something, and his sister - oh god, his sister! His poor, sweet, innocent preteen sister - was watching MTV.

I honestly don’t think the content was entirely age appropriate.

His step-mom also offered us drinks that could have passed for alcoholic, which was even more worrying for a second.

But his room...

“It was my parents’ room,” Remy told me. “But I made them trade me.”

Bitch...

Even worse, bitch who flaunts around his ex-boyfriends. Like all the pictures of Patton he has hanging on his door.

“Logan, do you even know who sings this?” Remy asked me about the music that was playing on the radio.

“Umm... One Direction?”

“Oh my god, I love him! He’s like a Martian!”

Is that a... compliment...?

“God, my hips are huge!” Emile was checking himself out in the mirror... why?

Is that what friends do...? Gay people as a whole...? What?

“Oh please, I hate my calves.” Something about Roman’s tone sounded incredibly fake.

“At least you guys don’t have huge shoulders.”

I used to think there was just fat and skinny. Apparently, there’s a lot of things that can be wrong about your body.

And so, after listing about eleven hundred things that are wrong about their bodies, they turned to me. Expected me to talk.

Well... “I have really bad breath in the morning.”

“...ew.”

And then, “Oh my god, I remember this!” Emile was holding a pink album.

‘The Burn Book.’

“I haven’t looked at that in forever! Come check it out, Logan!”

“It’s our Burn Book,” Roman told me. “See, we cut out pictures of people from the yearbook, mostly girls, sometimes also guys, and then we wrote comments.”

“Trang Pak is a grotsky little bitch.” “Still true!”

“Dawn Schweitzer is a fat virgin.” “Still half true!”

“Amber d’Alessio masturbated with a hot dog.”

“Virgil Thompson,” Emile read out. “Stoner.”

Wait, what?

“Who is that?”

“I think it’s that kid Thomas,” Roman said. His voice still sounded... well, off.

“Yeah. He’s almost too gay to function.”

“Ha, that’s funny! Put that in there.”

Oh no. What have I done. Maybe that was only okay when Virgil said it.

—

“And they have this book, this Burn Book, where they write mean things about a lot of people in our grade.”

Virgil looked incredibly enthusiastic. Maybe a bit too much for the situation.

“What does it say about me?”

That you’re a stoner. “You’re not in it.”

“Those assholes.” He seemed to enjoy it far too much.

“Will this minimize my pores?” Thomas was holding a tube of... whatever cream that was.

“No. Logan, you gotta steal that book.”

“No way!”

“Oh, come on! We could publish it and then everybody would see what a dick he really is!”

“I don’t steal.”

“That is for your feet!” Virgil literally snatched the new cream from Thomas’ hands the second he brought it up. “Logan, there are two kinds of evil people. People who do evil stuff, and people who see evil stuff being done and don’t try to stop it.”

“Does that mean I’m morally obligated to burn that lady’s outfit?”

Thomas really shouldn’t have said that, probably.

“Oh my god, that’s Ms. Torres.”

“I love seeing teachers outside of school! It’s like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs!”

“Oh, hey, guys,” Ms. Torres called as she came to the counter. “What’s up? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, moderately priced soaps are my calling.”

“You shopping?”

“No, no. I’m just here with my boyfriend.” Yeah... literally the only other customer in the shop. “Joking. Sometimes older people make jokes.”

“My nana takes her wig off when she’s drunk.”

“Your nana and I have that in common,” she deadpanned. “No, actually I’m just here because I bartend a couple nights a week down at P.J. Calamity’s. Logan, I hope you do join Mathletes, you know. Because we start in a couple weeks.”

“I think I’m gonna do it.”

“Great!”

“You can’t join Mathletes, it’s social suicide!” Thomas rushed to say.

“Thanks, Thomas.” And then, “well... this has been sufficiently awkward. And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Oh man, that is bleak,” Virgil sighed when Ms. Torres left. “So, when are you gonna see Remy again?”

“I can’t spy on him anymore. It’s weird.”

“Come on, he’s never gonna find out! It’s just... it’ll be like our little secret!”

Okay then...

—————

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landoftheoutsiders · 6 years

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Day 3: Therapy Sessions

Wow. Guys. We have made it three whole days. I’m proud of us. And by us, I mean me. And by made it, I mean actually keeping up with this stream of conscious thing. I’m surprised that I haven’t completely given up on this thing yet. It’s actually, dare I say--fun. Lets see how long I can keep this thing going.

Today was fairly productive. Kind of. I went to class. That’s my definition of productive. I’m trash. Today we went over the three scenes that I’m not in, and then we had one volunteer blindly pick a story to portray as a monologue. They didn’t pick my story, but it was a very interesting metaphor that the guest professor had. Basically, it was that we need to realize that every character we portray in our career as an actor is a “real” story that is being told--its up to us to make their story come to life. I thought it was really insightful, and I think remembering that will help me in my career going forward while learning new characters and memorizing their stories. As for the rest of my day, I watched a movie, took a nap, and went to my last experiential group. That shit was bittersweet. I remember going to the treatment center literally counting down the days until I was discharged. Now? I don’t know... I looked forward to the groups. It was something fairly positive that was also productive in a safe environment. I guess I have the productive part with school--with my university being in the heart of downtown, I don’t think that safe really is the best word to describe the campus. It’s more dangerous at night, but lets be honest... with all the school shootings going around in our God forsaken country, I’d be naive to believe a campus is the safest place to be. People be crazy. Enough of the sappy shit. I actually am happy that tomorrow is my last day. I can’t keep spending $200+ on groups every week because of the community. I need to find that community in a cheaper place--preferably a free place lmao. I am, however, very excited to shell out my really good friend from our shared group. I believe that Mindfulness is actually the group where I first met her. Her name on here shall be Tree. Tree knows who she is. (She follows this blog because she “likes the way I write.” Me too, Tree. Me too). Jesus fucking christ, I ramble like a mother fucker. I can’t wait to read her shell out to her. It is going to be full of inside jokes, rent quotes, and sprinkled with heartfelt nuggets of emotion. It will be a shit show, and I’m looking forward to it. There are so many new people, and they are all going to be 100% done with both of us, but Tree and I have worked far too hard to make sure we shell out on the same day. We’ve been planning on breaking out together. Therapy today was a thing. I feel more vulnerable than usual. I need a name for my therapist. I guess we can call him Pink. Our ongoing joke while he was an intern at the center was that on Wednesdays, we’d wear pink. Out of maybe a month and half of him being my individual, we only actually both wore pink on Wednesday once. Honestly, he’s the best therapist I’ve ever had. So Pink was asking me the usual questions... how my restriction had been this week, if I had weighed myself, how my meals were going... and then he hit me with, “Why are we restricting? Is it because you’re forgetting to eat, or is it defiant?” Here’s how that conversation went: Me: Its honestly about 50/50 between the two. Pink: What is the thought behind the defiant restriction? Me: I’m not sure. Pink: It has to be something... usually its that “I want to lose weight... if I restrict, I’ll be stronger... etc.” Me: *long pause and deep fucking breath* I want to lose weight. Pink: Okay, so walk me through a day with your meals. Me: Well... I mean.. I wake up around 9:45, and go to work around 10:10... I’m hungry, but lunch is only a few hours away, so its not a big deal. Pink: Rian, that is t h r e e hours. Your body will be hungry again for lunch... Me: ... I just drink coffee... it helps... Pink: *visible frustration* I KNOW. I KNOW IT HELPS.

Ohhhhh the shit I put this poor man through. He really is helpful though. We also figured out tonight that right now I’m restricting because I want to feel more comfortable in my body. Which raised the question of where do I not feel comfortable. The answer to that would be my apartment. It feels so hostile there. I still need to explain that fuckshow to you guys. I’ll make that a separate post for length’s sake... we’re already getting pretty long with this post. Anywho, long story short, Pink wants me to talk to my roommate that I have issues with. She reached out to me earlier this week, and I honestly just don’t trust her motives. I think she’s finally realizing that she did something shitty, feels bad, wants to talk it out, and only wants to do so because she feels guilty. I genuinely think she is only trying to clear her conscious. Maybe I will talk to her. Simply just to explain why I haven’t moved back into our apartment since our falling out. I feel so unwanted, and regardless of the fact that I’m not really wanted in our apartment, I still have the right to be treated like a decent human being with emotions (no matter how emotionless I try to be). I did nothing wrong--nothing major anyways. Again, I’ll explain this in a different post if you want to know about that drama. My main concern is where I am going to be living come June 1st. I’m trying not to stress out because everything will work out for the best (hopefully), but I can’t help but catastrophize the situation and come to the conclusion that my stuff will end up in a storage unit and I’ll just live out of my car until I find roommates. All of this came up when Pink asked what I planned on doing in the meantime. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I genuinely felt I’d end up homeless by summer, but its fine. Everything is fine. I guess I could always crash on my friend’s couch at the end of the day, but I really don’t want to add any stress to her and her boyfriend. With Crashy, I at least know its only him I’m bothering if I am in fact even bothering him. God, all of this is making me need a cigarette and its fucking freezing outside. Even Pink though was like, “well... you have found yourself in a pickle, haven’t you?” Why yes Pink. Yes I have. After group and therapy, I decided to go across the street to their res program to see a friend of mine. He tried to be real slick and say, “bye guys, I’m leaving and Rian is staying in my place.” The look of actual fear as if this scenario from hell was actually happening had to have been entertaining to the res staff lmao. I was talking to one of the ladies with my friend and we were talking about me leaving the day treatment center and she was like, “Oh you must be doing well with your eating disorder.” To which my response was obviously, “nope. Not even close. I’m just poor.” She had no comment for that one lol. My dark humour will hopefully take me places one day. Once I left my friend, I went to Taco Bell and had my usual three tacos with six mild sauces and watched the latest Shane Dawson video. Shane is queen. Fucking love that guy. This week he made Ryland wear a fat-suit for a day so Ryland could understand how Shane felt in his younger years when he was obese. It took a very real, dark turn very quickly--and thankfully it was after I had already eaten my tacos. Shane was mentioning how he remembered being so out of energy that he didn’t even want to move or talk the moment he sat on a couch. While I have never been obese, I have been severely underweight, and that isn’t any easier--I completely related, and then fell down a very dark rabbit hole of body image issues and how I have a love/hate relationship with my new body. I like having boobs and an great ass, but I also would do a n y t h i n g to have my old body back from my lowest weight. Not many people know that about me... they think I’m doing so great with my “recovery” and that I’m living it up in the city with my friends and modeling while trying to find freelance jobs with acting, filming, and editing. It just honestly made me want to take out the entire week’s worth of calories and just fucking starve myself until I got back into the 90s. I loved the way my body looked. The thinspo shit that I post? I looked like most of them. I miss that shit. I miss being envied for my body. I miss people asking me what I did to stay so thin (to which I always gave healthy advice). I miss being noticed the second I walked into a room--my old nurse says it was because I was scaring the hell out of everyone, but I like to think it was because they were like, “fuck... who is she.” There are so many things I miss about being that thin. Lets be honest here, it was never enough, because of course it will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough for this god damned eating disorder... but I want to try. I guess its a good thing I’m still being weight monitored because there is no way in hell that Pink will let me get anywhere close to where I was without having to go back to iop. Hell... if I did it quick enough, he’d probably send me over to res and I could go party it up with my friend who is in res right now. Or he can come visit me for a change lmao. Anyways, rant over. I’m going to go drown my sorrows in The Office and cookie dough. Fuck eating disorders.

-- Rian Dianna

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aziz-writes · 7 years

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When I was eleven years old, every girl in my class got weighed and had their height taken. The boys did too, of course, but at the time it was only the girls that I worried about. We were all put in a line. Behind the backs of our teachers, we whispered what the scale had told us.

“I’m 93 pounds.”

“Oh really? Well I’m 95. But I’m taller!”

“91 pounds.” This whisper came from the second shortest girl of our class — I was the shortest — and everyone seemed shocked.

“No WAY! You’re like, 80 pounds!”

“Nope, it’s 91. I even took off my shoes.”

“What about you, Kristina?”

I hesitated. I knew, even at that young age, that the lower the number, the better. I wrapped my arms around my suddenly-bloated stomach and smiled.

“92.” That was a lie. It was an outright, bold-faced, lie. But they believed it. I looked at my little paper, safely folded. I had already memorized what it said.

Height: 4 feet 9 inches. Weight: 100 pounds.

That’s when it clicked. The coaches had been saying this all along! To be healthy, I had to eat less and exercise more. I was not healthy if I was fat. I could not, under any circumstances, eat ice cream or cake or cookies or those Indian sweets my dad loved to bring home. Nothing with sugar, nothing that tasted good. One Hundred Pounds. I didn’t know anything else in the world that weighed One Hundred Pounds. Suddenly, I was too much. I didn’t feel qualified to play at recess or buy hot cheetos at the elementary school black market.

So that day at lunch I only ate vegetables. But then the coaches said that school lunches were healthy, so I started eating all of my lunch except for the milk. I started skipping breakfast. I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I didn’t do it consciously until that summer, when school lunches were no longer available.

The previous summer, I had lunched on ravioli or canned spaghetti or cookies and a fudge Popsicle. But that summer before middle school I discovered the wonders of the toasted peanut butter sandwich. I found — or convinced myself — that one quarter of the sandwich without crust filled me up for hours. So when we were left alone for breakfast and lunch, I usually had half a sandwich and a small serving of whatever my mother cooked for dinner.

This continued for the whole summer, and I more or less left myself alone when it came to food. At the time, I was strong. I was not fast, and I could not run for any long period of time. But I could do push-ups and the flexed arm-hang with the best of them. I realize now that it may have been the muscles, not fat, that made me 100 pounds in sixth grade.

I only put aside my eating rules around Christmas, when our house had turned into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. It wasn’t until I was thirteen, somewhere in middle school, that I faced the scale again.

Before I continue, I must state that scales, at any given stage in my life, have been both my best friends and worst enemies. Even now, in the midst of recovery, I can’t resist stepping on the scale and praying that it’s not too high.

Anyway, I stepped on the scale that my sister had in our bathroom purely out of curiosity. I remembered my mother saying something about it being six pounds off, and stepped on. 128. Plus six? 134. I didn’t realize I was supposed to take away six, but by then it was too late. No matter what scale I stepped on, my plus-six rule would apply. One-Thirty-Four. Much too much.

My peers frowned upon anorexia. I only had about three or four friends throughout middle school, and they all thought starving yourself was stupid. So I kept it a secret. I would go to the bathroom after lunch and stick a pencil down my throat until I threw up. There were a couple of instances when I overdosed aspirin so I wouldn’t be able to eat anything without throwing up.

Overdosing became a hobby of mine. Whenever we had to go to a pizza place or have parties that required eating, but didn’t have an opportunity for me to barf, I would only slightly overdose on pills so I could get a nice little buzz in my head and be “out of it” enough to not care if I ate or not.

My parents, of course, could not know. They knew, eventually, of the running away and the cutting. They knew of the acting out and the overdoses. But they never knew why. That was my cherished little secret. It was so secret, that even I didn’t know why. I just had to do it. My behaviors were completely normal to me. Even the odder behaviors, like pretending to cast spells on people I didn't like until the 8th grade class decided to collectively follow me around singing ‘this little light of mine’.

Flash forward to high school. I was no longer the witch or the crazy girl. I was normal. At the very least, I was anonymous. I started inching back to starving myself and restricting my calories, but I did it a bit more publicly. My friends, to my surprise, were concerned about my actions rather than hostile. That year, cutting was also deemed ‘Not Cool’ because I was in theater and the Stage Rats were not allowed to alter their bodies in any way without the director’s permission.

So I stopped eating and made new friends. “John” was one of these friends, and I became very close to him. He became, and remains, a brother to me. One time, he was giving me a piggy-back ride (one of those epic ones where he would karate fight as I clung to his back) and he said “This is what I’d look like if I was 90 pounds heavier.” I looked at the shadow on the ground to see a huge, bloated figure. Somehow, I took offense.

“Great. So I’m fat?”

“What? No! I said I would look fat. Not you. I was joking.”

I laughed. “Of course… So was I, silly.”

There was another time when he pulled me into the cafeteria and sat me down in a chair. As my heart raced at the thought of food, he sat down.

“What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t have money.”

“Then I’ll pay. What do you want to eat?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

“Fine, I’ll pick for you. Stay here.” I suppose I could have run out of there and hid until the bell rang. But I stayed. I trusted my adopted brother. He brought back a ham and cheese sandwich, I believe. I stared at it.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you that.”

“No, it’s fine…” My voice trailed off as I calculated the calories in the sandwich.

“Kristina, what do you see in the mirror?”

“I don’t look in mirrors.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I see…” I tried to think up the biggest thing possible. “…A whale.”

He sighed. “You’re not a whale. You’re just fine the way you are.”

Regardless, I ate only half the sandwich, without the crusts. Later I joined the physical training team with my ROTC class. “Sergeant” encouraged us — especially when the military ball came around.

“Come on girls, you want to fit into your dresses, don’t you?” I did crunches until my muscles malfunctioned. I ran the mile as fast as I could until I wasn’t able to breathe and was in danger of passing out. But I loved it. I continued to exercise at home and watched my stomach getting smaller and smaller.

In October, I changed schools. The new school had an ROTC class, but not a PT team. I panicked. I started eating less, as moving left me too busy to exercise and too supervised to vomit.

Before the Big Move, I was the lead actress in a play. It was my grand exit. Through theater I learned to be assertive and I perfected my lies. I took in nothing but energy drinks and diet coke. There was the occasional celery stick or apple, but that was rare. Of course, I couldn’t get out of dinner with my parents. But late rehearsals meant no one was there to watch me only take half a serving. I drenched everything I ate in hot salsa, chili powder, or habanero sauce. The spiciness would raise my metabolism.

When the play ended and my character died, I sulked. I had become too integrated with my character, Sophia, who was older and prettier and happier than I was. When the curtains closed for the last time, Sophia died and I returned to my depressed state.

I became a workaholic. I lived on coffee, diet coke, energy drinks, and diet pills. I didn’t sleep much, preferring to work out or work on homework. Commander and Gunny (from the ROTC class) noticed it. They appreciated my intelligence, but said over and over that I should sleep. And I did. I slept in Spanish class and on the bus. To this day, I’m living in El Paso and not able to speak Spanish.

By the end of that year, I burned out. I had stress attacks, which are very much like panic attacks, only more manic/productive. I had to be better than everyone. I had to be smarter, thinner, happier, more talented, and more commanding. I had to be impressive. Extraordinary. That summer, I quit. I still took my open course psychology classes from Yale, but I wasn’t stressing over it every minute of the day. Without my work to distract me, I had more time to devote to my eating disorder, which was to be in full bloom around the start of the next school year.

In September, my father took one of his business trips. With only one parent to deal with, I stopped eating completely. I didn’t take in vegetables or fruits or metabolism boosters. I drank water and did yoga. This lasted about nine days, until my father got back home.

That night, we cooked chicken curry. Made from all raw ingredients, nothing processed, and minimal oil. It was very healthy in small portions. But I couldn’t eat it. I stayed silent throughout the cooking process and pretended to be asleep when it was done cooking.

When my sister came up to get me, I told her I wasn’t feeling well.

“Do you need anything?”

“I need my medicine.”

“Which medicine?”

“The one that makes me happy.”

I had been taking antidepressants for a while. The panic I was feeling must have shown, but my mother wouldn’t have it.

“No sympathy. You need to eat.”

“I don’t feel well!”

“Then I’ll take you to the doctor. Do you need that? I’ll call your therapist. Hmm?”

“I don’t need them.”

“Then eat.”

“No.” It was the first time I had ever stood up to my mother, ever been anything but submissive. I sat at the table with a glass of water, still crying, and sat there. My sister and father were sympathetic, but I knew there was no way I could skip out of eating the next day. But I was so proud; I had lost 12 pounds that week. Eating would ruin it all.

And it did. A week after I started eating again (apples and celery were as far as I would go); I had my first Binge Attack. I ate and ate and ate. I ate everything I could get my hands on, plus two sodas, and I ran upstairs through the empty house and stuck my fingers far down my throat until nothing but acid came out. Then I chugged water and purged again, just in case.

This is where Bulimia made its triumphant return. I stayed away from food when I could, but when I had to eat anything more than my precious cut up apples or fresh celery or diet coke, I would purge. This continued on, with the diet pills and my mother finding the diet pills and me just buying more and my sister asking if I had a “problem” and the lies, lies, lies. I had control. At least, I thought I did.

I came to school one day and everyone just stared at me. The room went silent. I was working away, having isolated myself by that point so that I was friendly with everyone, but didn’t really talk to anyone.

“Aziz,” Commander called, “You’ve lost too much weight. You need to cut the crap and eat something.” Even I was silent. I translated this into “it’s working”. You’re getting thinner. You’re on your way! I was about 108 pounds. The size of my eleven year old sister. After the silent spell, I laughed.

“Oh sure, Commander. Don’t worry; I’ve got it under control.” I was wearing my little sister’s shirt. My jeans were falling off. I had to poke new holes in my belt to keep them up. At night, if I lay down the right way, I could feel my ribs and my hip bones jutted out. I couldn’t stop feeling them. Later, when I was stressed, I would walk with my hands on my hip bones, thinking at least I’m thinner than before.

But it all went to hell the next year. I was binging and purging more often and thus, gaining more weight. I hated my body for rebelling, and I hated myself for being weak. I was back up to 120 pounds. So I collected every kind of medicine I could find and took most of it, about 100 out of 250 or so, and walked out into the desert until I fell.

I was still conscious, but I couldn’t get up. I realized what was happening. In a panic, I texted Gunny. “In desert. Need help.” I dropped my phone. I wasn’t able to work with it again, only concentrating my efforts to grabbing more pills and swallowing them, 3, 4, or five at a time. By the time I heard the search and rescue helicopter, I had become unconscious. I’ll spare you the details, but they pumped my stomach and sent me to the psych ward.

The University of Behavioral Health for Mental Disorders and Chemical Dependency - UBH, for short. I spent 29 days there, when the average was 8 to 10 days, and had fights over my potassium levels and why was I hiding food and how was I still purging and “you’re gonna die if you don’t eat something.”

“Well,” I’d quietly reply, “I know that.” In two weeks I had lost another seven pounds. I didn’t understand why they were all shocked. “That’s only half a pound a day. It’s not a lot.” They’d throw their arms up, exasperated. At the family sessions, they’d state “We’re not equipped for this. We can’t make her eat.” I repeated that over and over in my head until I only ate when I had a bunch of junk food that I could binge and purge up.

My roommate, “Laurie”, was anorexic and didn’t mind me purging. She knew me better than everyone else. When everyone was applauding me for eating, she’d sigh and say “That’s not a good thing!” Because of course I was going to purge it up.

Or when I was smiling after coming out of the bathroom or acting drunk because I was so incredibly light-headed and oh-look-I’m-flying-hello-everyone-I’m-happy-today, she would shake her head behind the backs of the doctors who thought I was improving.

On her last day, because naturally she came in after me but left before me, I made her a promise.

“I’m going to eat everything you eat for breakfast, and I’m not going to purge it.” I knew, by that time, that my body would automatically try to throw up anyway, but I meant it. We had a banana, a 90 calorie cereal box, and a donut. I made it through the banana and half the cereal before I stressed out.

“This is hard.” I laughed.

“You don’t have to eat it all. Don’t push yourself.”

I took a deep breath. The nurses, Laurie, and all the other patients were watching me.

“No,” I answered shakily, “I can do it.” I ate the rest of the cereal and half of the donut before I quit. It took everything I had to not purge it up. But that was the starting point of my recovery.

My heart was hurting, skipping, and arrhythmic. My esophagus was torn, acidic, and tired. There were nicks in my hands from purging and dirty washcloths from wiping my mouth. I couldn’t climb stairs or walk down the hall. I hated my eating disorder. So, while consciously I stayed with it, I unconsciously began eating.

I’d start with what I felt was a “binge” at lunch. The unit director had to point out that what I thought was a binge was really a portion-controlled, normal lunch. Still, I didn’t eat dinner. But it was a start.

This doesn’t mark the happily ever after. Instead, this marks the point where I worked hard and long to become normal again. Three years later, here I am. I still struggle with my disordered thoughts sometimes, but I work through them. I’m happier, healthier, more active, and I know now how precious life is. As corny as that sounds, I know I will never cut myself again or purge. The starving and binging takes a little longer. But with therapy, I can work through it.

#proana #eating disorder #writing #personal

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newstfionline · 6 years

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The Year In Unique—And Downright Kooky—Health And Wellness Trends

By Rina Raphael, Fast Company, Dec. 20, 2017

Health and wellness are such vast categories, from the practical (a bath) to the head-scratching (leech therapy), that it’s hard to keep track of all the latest trends. As the sectors rapidly grew in the last few years--ballooning to a $3.7 trillion global industry--plenty of new and fascinating players have emerged.

As we look back at the craziness that was 2017, let’s ponder the industry’s more interesting developments.

TRAIN LIKE A MERMAID. Have you ever wanted to work out with your legs melded together? Live out your under-the-sea fantasies with the Mermaid Fitness class at San Diego’s Hotel del Coronado. You can strap on a colorful tail for a 45-minute fusion class of swimming, cardio, and strength training in a luxury outdoor pool. The class is meant to help one “embody their inner mermaid,” but it sounds more like a grueling way to experience life as a children’s party entertainer.

KIDDING AROUND. In what can only be best described as pure Instagram bait, fitness enthusiasts have upped the ante on their workouts by adding live animals. Goat yoga is exactly what it sounds like: throwing goats into your yoga class. A studio in Willamette Valley, Oregon, is one such place that incorporated the free-range livestock because “it’s impossible to be sad and depressed when there’s baby goats jumping around,” explains owner Lainey Morse.

The class has attendees attempting downward dogs and warrior poses as eight goats climb all over them and lick their face. It’s become a so-called “fitness craze” with hundreds of animal-lovers waiting for their chance to be trampled on.

SCREAM AND SHOUT. If you need to yell, shout, or just get vocal about the year in politics--while, of course, burning calories--take The Class with Taryn Toomey. Billed as an “emotional workout,” the fast-paced session incorporates elements of yoga, Pilates, and cardio, all while letting yourself voice whatever your body is feeling at that moment. You will break a sweat while simultaneously releasing all that tension, whatever or whomever it’s geared at.

“We’re right at this moment where a lot of people are fed up and frustrated and scared and strong and brave and all of these dualities of things,” says founder Taryn Toomey. “This is a safe space.”

GET EXPERIMENTAL. Imagine a wonderland of Goop-esque wellness activities; a place where you inject yourself with IV nutrients, plunge into a below-freezing cryotherapy chamber, and test machines that “massage cells from the inside out” (whatever that means).

From the creators of Bulletproof Coffee comes Bulletproof Labs, described as a “human upgrade center” where for a pretty penny you can try out all the new buzzed-about technology out there. Does it work? There’s still no consensus on that, but it sure is an entertaining way to supposedly, as founder Dave Asprey says, “cheat fitness.”

TRAIN LIKE A JUSTICE. Embrace your inner Supreme Court badass with the Ruth Bader Ginsburg workout. The beloved judge’s trainer, Bryant Johnson, compiled Ginsburg’s exercise routine--and it is not for the faint-hearted. There are push-ups, squats, planks, and more tough moves to strengthen one for life on the bench. The illustrated book explains how to complete all the exercises at home, along with insider snippets about the 84-year-old icon:

“During a recent workout, Justice Ginsburg upped the ante by doing her front plank in a full push-up position, with her hands on the floor, without even realizing she had slipped into this more difficult variation,” writes Johnson.

PUMP THAT QUARTZ. Do you ever lift weights and think: if only they were, well, prettier? Swap out your dumbbells for nature’s homegrown weights–crystals. As Well+Good points out, working out with trendy rocks offers the same benefits of a traditional weight-lifting session, but with the added bonus of potential good vibes. Crystal guru Luke Simon recommends taking a chunk of clear quartz and working one’s biceps into a sweat.

“Not only am I building up my muscles, [but] I’m flexing my core,” demonstrated Simon, who added the real icing on the cake: “I’m also tapping into ancient wisdom of lemurian Altantean consciousness from these crystals that were used back in the day.”

PUT YOUR KITCHEN IN THERAPY. Have you heard about “the kitchen healer?” As Goop brought to our attention, Jules Blaine Davis is a professional who specializes in soothing the psychological wounds women associate with their place of cooking. Did your mother fail to serve you mac ‘n’ cheese? Has a burnt Thanksgiving turkey loomed over your psyche? Does your Crockpot mock you? The kitchen healer can help!

“How we were nourished as children and what it looked and felt like to cook, to serve, to eat, begins a deep and wide conversation about who we are and what we hunger for inside our bodies and in our lives,” writes Davis. “When we become adults, we get to rewrite this story.”

For a fee, she will come to your home and somehow explain how your kitchen is giving you anxiety--then teach you how to roast some vegetables.

LAUGH YOUR WAY TO NIRVANA. Laughter yoga combines the healing psychological benefits and breathing techniques of yoga with “prolonged voluntary laughter.” This means gurus gather groups together and tell them jokes, instruct them to act silly, or sometimes command them to laugh for no reason (a fake-it-till-you-make-it approach).

“Its core premise is that your body can and knows how to laugh, regardless of what your mind has to say,” explains Laughter Online University. “Because it follows a body-mind approach to laughter, participants do not need to have a sense of humor, know jokes, or even be happy.”

GYM COUTURE. Athleisure sales totaled $97 billion last year, up 40% from 2010, according to Morgan Stanley. So it’s no surprise that companies are looking for any which way to cash in on the fitness trend--even in sectors you wouldn’t necessarily expect. This last year saw a flush of skincare and makeup brands release athleisure lines, i.e., products to wear specifically for working out.

“The active lifestyle and culture has changed--going to the gym, yoga, or Pilates class is much more than just working out. Now it’s a social experience,” says Rochelle Rae, founder of Rae Cosmetics, sweat-resistant makeup made for women. “You don’t just go quickly and quietly work out alone and leave. You meet friends, then have a coffee or snack, you might even meet a future date and hit happy hour on a patio . . . You meet more people at the gym than at a nightclub or grocery store. So you want to look your best.”

BESPOKE BABY FOOD. Food delivery startups started simple, but have since grown to a full-blown industry catering to niche tastes--and that includes those of babies (and even pets).

Most baby food startups attempt to offer nutritious solutions for busy parents who don’t want to constantly mush bananas, albeit with a trendy twist: Think blueberry chia seed pudding mixed with quinoa, dates, and wheat germ oil, or puréed squash and kale with spirulina, nutritional yeast, and flax.

Others take the specialty route. Serenity Kids, for example, sells meat purees that are essentially the world’s first Paleo Diet-inspired baby food. The so-called “caveman diet” is high in fat and protein, and lacks all forms of dairy, grains, soy, and legumes. You know, in case you need your little one to consume “100% grass-fed, grass-finished beef with organic sweet potato” or “pastured uncured bacon that has organic butternut squash and organic kale.”

#health and wellness trends #health industry

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makemeprettyana · 7 years

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Why I am losing weight

So hey guys! Now I want to talk about the reasons why I am losing weight. It's going to be pretty long tho. So let's start >> 1. My family Yeah, my family. To be honest I have never been bullied in school. All the bullies were from family members and that's how I lost my self confidence. 1.1 First my sister. I have an older sister. She's 9 years older and she's so freaking skinny.. I'm really jealous and I feel horrible to be 'the fat sister'. She's always called me fat. When I eat in front of her she's like "Stop eating you're like 100 kilograms". I know she's joking and having fun but i don't. It actually hurts me but she thinks I don't care. But I do. Currently she doesn't live in our house anymore. She has a boyfriend and they live together so I don't see her often. 1.2 Then my cousin. We both are really close and we are together like every weekend. And being the fat one makes me want to die. I'm so jealous of her.. she has been skinny her whole life. She was born skinny. No matter how much this girl eats she's skinny af. One thing that really annoys me is that she eats like all day and consumes like 1500 calories while I consume 500 and my grandma calls ME a pig. My cousin used to make a lot of fun of me when we were like 10. Now she does not do that. 1.3 Then my parents. My dad tells me that I'm fat like all the time. Always complaining about how much I eat and how fat I am. And now that I stopped eating that much my mom is complaining that I don't eat enough. My mom is a pretty big problem when I'm fasting because she's always watching me how much I eat. 1.4 My grandma. I'm visiting her every weekend and I stay there for the whole day with my cousin and she's always talking about how much I eat like ??? I don't even eat. Leave me alone. 2. Society. Ofc no one will fall in love with a fat girl. No one talks to fat girls. No one likes fat girls. No one makes compliments to fat girls. I want to make that girls in my class jealous of me. I want them to stare at my body. I want to hear "How did you lose so much weight?" " Wow you look so skinny" I don't want to hear "You are not fat" I want to hear "You are skinny". There's difference. 3. For myself. I want to stop hating my body and start loving it. I want to wear crop tops, skinny jeans, shorts, pretty dresses without feeling terrible and always wondering what people think. I want to enjoy food without looking at the calories. I want to stop dieting and fasting. I want to eat again. I want a thigh gap, a flat stomach, small arms, skinny wrists.. I want to be happy with my body. So yeah. That's why I want to lose weight. I want to be happy again. Stay safe 💕💕

#ana #pro ana #Anna #pro anna #anoreixa #anorexic #proana #mia #pro mia #miia #pro miia #bulima #bulimiia #bulimic #thin #skinny #thinspo #fitspo #meanspiration #thinspiration #sweetspo #sad #depressed

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fragiilexa · 7 years

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1-25

Get To Know The Mun!

1. Who is your hero?

this is so hard i have so many, like it depends on like what type of hero bc like, i got one 4 everyhting ok, like I have so many? So many people who mean so much to me like, jesus?!? ( both literally and in exasperation lol ) no but really there are so many but uhm I think If I had to pick a person it would have toooo… it would have to be my Mom. I know that’s cheesy, or something, probably as cheesy as the jesus thing but literally she keeps the house together and she does so much & I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain to her how much she’s done for me & :/ I just love her. She’s my hero. But, like… I could pick more, I could also easily pick Demi, or Taylor or maybe Stevie Nicks, or fricken Julie Andrews??? Iconic. Hero. Bless. Dolly Parton???? Goals aF. I could go on for hours but those are like the tippy top ones.

2. If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

Oh well, I mean I really do love Michigan? Like, being able to be by the big lakes is amazing & the views are just?? Incredible. But I think if I had the chance of anywhere without needing to worry about money or the fact I’d be super far from family I’d pick California? or ? I don’t know I just,…. maybe not the ritzy bits of it like it’s a huge state ya’ll have some not so populated places but being close to the ocean & also semi-sort of close to somewhere that is just incredibly alive & fresh would be really cool ( plus bumping into celebs l maO ) I would also say NYC or something but lmao sO much traffic & such little spaces.

3. What is your biggest fear?

lmao uh idk either driving or just people leaving idk

4. What is your favorite family vacation?

We have only really had one huGE one where we went to Disney World together and it was AMAZING it wasn’t v busy cause we went in their off season and it was literally so fun I’d love to go again tbqh

5. What would you change about yourself if you could?

hmmm I’m tryin’ to love myself more so I feel like I defeat the purpose if I say what I wanna change, but also I’m trying to get healthier this year so maybe just so more strength & also clear skin bc those are what I’m working towards right now.

6. What really makes you angry?

I think what really gets on my nerves is & makes me angry is peoples unwillingness to listen to one another. Like I don’t wanna get political bc i hate ( hate ) politics but like seriously. Treat people as humans. Both sides have wrongs in this and it bothers me that both sides act like they’re ‘holier than thou’ but are both, at times, wrong. No one gets anywhere and we won’t get anywhere if we assume things of one another & also if we don’t stop to realize we are all, in fact, humans who just want to live a happy & healthy life. Unless someone is pointedly a bad person and wants to cause destruction, hate, discourse, ect. then just either try to have a conversation or let it go if there’s none to be had. Being an activist is an amazing thing to do & is mostly always a selfless act but unless you fully accept you’re never actually going to fix everyone & change everyone’s views to your own then you’re just going to be unhappy & bitter for the rest of your life.

also tumblr callout culture. yall need to get the friCK over yourselves & go like, to church or smthin or at least go to a etiquette class like damn ya’ll make me angry & I’m not??? even an angry person? ? ?

( addendum : i hate when people treat others like pos just because they disagree with them it bothers tf out of me. )

7. What motivates you to work hard?

Music mostly, it just gives me a good vibe ( depending on the song ) and it just??? It’s like pressing play on a movie or something ‘cause if I have background music ( or not so background music ) then it’s like somethings supposed to be happening so I do more stuff.. but like, I am a super unmotivated person unless I actually have a task that needs to get done, like if it’s a personal motivation to do something it’s ten times harder lmao

8. What is your favorite thing about your career?

since I don’t… really have one I… idk I mean if I made writing a career I guess I’d say my favorite thing is when things click for a muse & you have a lot of muse for writing & it all just pours out & you’re happy.

9. What is your biggest complaint about your job?

I don’t got a job fam…. O.O’’

10. What is your proudest accomplishment?

When I was at camp one little girl in my cabin was just??? adorable??? and she said once when we were talking that I made her want to be a counselor because it looked like fun and it just??? me ??? inspiring a little girl ?? to want to do the funnest job ever??? i was happy. proudest moment.

11. What is your child’s proudest accomplishment?

m m y ch il d …. u me an m y cat?? He once swatted at our big dog i was proud of him 4 having the courage tbh.

12. What is your favorite book to read?

I haven’t read a book in forever but I really wanna re-read The Last Song so probably that one.

13. What makes you laugh the most?

Corny jokes. I’m a sucker for em, but also just jokes in general if u can make me laugh u basically have me in the palm of ur hand bc I love laughing but also puppies being clumsy & joe jonas. just fuckijng joe jonas ok he makes me laugh & all he has to do is smile ok.

14. What was the last movie you went to? What did you think?

Uh last movie I went to was Underworld: Blood Wars & It was better than I thought it would b tho it was a little awkward I was sitting next to an old bearded man while a girl got eaten out so that was like, O.O but it was good & I really loved one of the girls in it but I can’t remember her name soBS

15. What did you want to be when you were small?

a dog ( bless the puppy filter ) no but really I don’t know I never really knew what I wanted to be I switched so much I mean I took ballet classes but failed I took art but I’m still meh, I wanted to be a vet but I can’t deal with the death aspect of it at all. I dunno fam I just wanted to be a dog & live a happy pure life as a pupper.

16. What does your child want to be when he/she grows up?

He want’s to be a lion. Rawr.

17. If you could choose to do anything for a day, what would it be?

Cuddling with Cass all day sounds v legit I’d pick that. ( or disney world again… but with Cassandra, bc yes. )

18. What is your favorite game or sport to watch and play?

I want to get back into sims *side eyes kae* but also I think u mean just sports so I don’t know… I mean football?? It’s interesting to watch tbh but like I don’t really watch any other sport so it’s football as default.

19. Would you rather ride a bike, ride a horse, or drive a car?

I’d rather have someone drive a car for me ( sobS ) but also I’ve never ridden a horse so that’d be fun to try

20. What would you sing at Karaoke night?

Uh, some Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana stuff soBS or.… … .. Hamilton oH GOD HAMILTON OK Fukc KME UP. H A M I L T ON .

21. What two radio stations do you listen to in the car the most?

Either 105.3 or 104.5 ‘cause they’re the like, top 100 stations near us? that or we just shuffle all of my dads & moms saved stations which are like, old rock music & like 80′s - 00′s stations which are ok too.

22. Which would you rather do: wash dishes, mow the lawn, clean the bathroom, or vacuum the house?

I do all of these in one day sobs but shit Vacuum, cleaning the bathroom is like some kind of level 10 hell spaces nothings ever actually clean & it takes forever even tho it’s the smallest room jfc. I wash dishes allthe time tho so I’d want a break & mowing the lawn is legit not that bad it’s just like, mentally I gotta get UP and then once I do I’m chill. It burns calories so im chilli.

23. If you could hire someone to help you, would it be with cleaning, cooking, or yard work?

Yard work fam. I love cooking by myself ( or well baking… I don’t cook much I just make cookies lmAO ) but also & cleaning I’m used to doing alone so it’s chill but outside work is just annoying & needs to be over asap.

24. If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?

this is super hard but my mom’s bbq chicken with red skin potatoes, it’s like the best thing ever, but this is ridiculous like- food is too good to give up.

25. Who is your favorite author?

Okay I haven’t read anything is sO LONG so I’m not really sure but just on the premise of knowing a lot of his work I’m going to go with C.S. Lewis because I love the way he explains things & I love Narnia.

#readmore bc this is so long ok sBOS #aliiciakeys #⌘ ||▷ тalĸ тo мe вaвy ▹▹ ( ▨ ' answered by me. )

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