She laughed as she folded and stapled the paper.
“Why do you think this is so funny?” I asked.
“I don’t! I think it’s great that you’re doing this. I may have to do the same,” she replied.
She handed me the folded and locked down strip and I quickly scribbled “JULY 2007” on the top.
I had just had a body fat percentage test completed, but I refused to hear the results. I won’t need to know them anyway, until 12 months from now, when I retake the test and compare the Aaron of ’07 with a hopeful new one of ’08.
And thus my Renaissance Year is completely up and running. I’m back in the gym and my diet has improved… gone are the breads and the pastas and the potatoes and sweets. Present are the fruits and actual vegetables and meats.
I’m happy to report that I haven’t set foot in a Starbucks since Monday… despite my co-workers proffering up a gift card for my birthday. The birthday itself was completely unforgettable… with some nice surprises along the way.
Since then I’ve gone and bought some of the new items I need along the way… such as a real, honest-to-god spice rack for my plan to cook a brand-new recipe once a week and expand some culinary abilities. And a tea kettle so I can finally be that guy who gets up on the weekends and reads the paper and drinks tea. Plus I’ve even started my fight against wastefulness, as I’m reducing my power intake by 20% just by unplugging appliances when not in use and avoiding “vampire power.”
You’re probably laughing yourself. But – a year from now… the results will speak for themselves.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
Baby Steps, Baby Steps
I reached up and felt the back of my neck for the twelve thousandth time around seven o'clock. It was instinctive. It was obsessive.
It was yielding results.
For years now, since I moved to the East Coast, I've watched the back of my neck undergo an unfortunate transformation to something akin to psoriasis. Red, dry bumps dotted the landscape with no explanation, and the toll this newfound condition took on my self-esteem was apparent, if not overwhelming.
Instead of taking a simple step and visiting a dermatologist years ago, I did what any other non-commital individual would do, particularly in the early 70s -- I grew my hair longer.
Truth be told, the short length I'd preferred up to that point looked horrendous, but no one ever told me. And in fact, some length in back looked much better, not counting the fact that it served to conceal the back of my neck, except when a barber or stylist was going to work and made the expected yet depressing observation.
"You've got a large number of red bumps on the back of your neck."
Sigh. Yes. I know. Please, never ever mention it again.
A couple of weeks ago, I started a new full-time position in downtown Washington, D.C. A true respite from my last job, this new place of employment provided me with not only a strong argument for happiness, but also instant insurance.
I began calling dermatologists the very next day. And one week ago, with my Renaissance Year looming, I stopped into one at 7:45 in the morning and told them it was time to clear up the psoriasis after all.
Only it wasn't psoriasis, it was some other long and clinical condition that required 3 prescriptions and triple figures in co-pays.
But a week later... and it's working. I can't see if the back of my neck is red, but the bumps are subsiding rapidly. Between an anti-biotic and a solution and a cream, I'm waging all-out war against some tiny little piece of me I was never truly happy about, even if I did my best to just not acknowledge it at all.
Such is the next year, hopefully. Which begins in about 2 hours, but I'll hopefully be fast asleep and on my way.
It was yielding results.
For years now, since I moved to the East Coast, I've watched the back of my neck undergo an unfortunate transformation to something akin to psoriasis. Red, dry bumps dotted the landscape with no explanation, and the toll this newfound condition took on my self-esteem was apparent, if not overwhelming.
Instead of taking a simple step and visiting a dermatologist years ago, I did what any other non-commital individual would do, particularly in the early 70s -- I grew my hair longer.
Truth be told, the short length I'd preferred up to that point looked horrendous, but no one ever told me. And in fact, some length in back looked much better, not counting the fact that it served to conceal the back of my neck, except when a barber or stylist was going to work and made the expected yet depressing observation.
"You've got a large number of red bumps on the back of your neck."
Sigh. Yes. I know. Please, never ever mention it again.
A couple of weeks ago, I started a new full-time position in downtown Washington, D.C. A true respite from my last job, this new place of employment provided me with not only a strong argument for happiness, but also instant insurance.
I began calling dermatologists the very next day. And one week ago, with my Renaissance Year looming, I stopped into one at 7:45 in the morning and told them it was time to clear up the psoriasis after all.
Only it wasn't psoriasis, it was some other long and clinical condition that required 3 prescriptions and triple figures in co-pays.
But a week later... and it's working. I can't see if the back of my neck is red, but the bumps are subsiding rapidly. Between an anti-biotic and a solution and a cream, I'm waging all-out war against some tiny little piece of me I was never truly happy about, even if I did my best to just not acknowledge it at all.
Such is the next year, hopefully. Which begins in about 2 hours, but I'll hopefully be fast asleep and on my way.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
T-Minus 36 Hours
I’m taking my time today with my tasty Starbucks beverage. After all… I’m not going to be able to have it anymore, in just 2 short days.
On Tuesday, I turn 29 years old.
This isn’t a major birthday accomplishment, certainly… it doesn’t end with a zero, and I gain no new rights or abilities that I otherwise haven’t been allowed these previous 28 years. But yet, when I dig much deeper, this birthday is huge. This birthday is the biggest one yet.
This birthday is the Renaissance Birthday.
(By Renaissance I certainly don't mean I'm becoming a minstrel this year. Maybe next year. Hell, I knew there was no way to make it sound good.)
Starting on Tuesday and for a starter period of the next twelve months, I am setting about on a pretentious period of dynamic and sweeping change… to my health, to my career and finances, to my relationships, all the way down to my surroundings in society (and if you take that to mean I’m going to be doing a lot more recycling, you’ve got me dead to rights).
Some of these changes will be small and sublime – for instance, me purchasing energy-saving light bulbs, which is one of the early items on the list – won’t necessarily affect my screenwriting projects, but when taken all toll, the entire twelve months are going to produce a leaner, happier, healthier me… just in time for my 30th birthday.
A sample of the tasks include:
* Radically overhauling a diet to say goodbye to some LONG-TERM staples… such as non-whole grain breads and pastas, sugar, beer, those ridiculous Cinnamon Mini-Bagels from Pepperidge Farm that I'm convinced are laced with black tar heroin, and the most difficult goodbye… Starbucks
* Creating a savings account and preparing for actual adult purposes… such as a new car and possibly real estate... unless I just move back in with my parents
* Expanding my worldview to include much more culturally diverse offerings – museum stops, a reading list that would choke a horse (provided you attempted to make said horse eat a pile of books), learning Spanish, and more
* The Big One – training properly and completing a marathon next July… right before the 30th birthday. This serves a couple of purposes… it will instill better discipline in my physical life, it will give me time to focus on a large goal, and it will exorcise the Philadelphia Marathon Demon that looms still to this day.
And I’ll be here… from time to time… keeping myself honest and moving 12 months forward into the 30s and out of the period of quarter life crises and malaise.
Kennedy once said “If not now, when?” The time is definitely now.
After this visit to Starbucks, I mean.
On Tuesday, I turn 29 years old.
This isn’t a major birthday accomplishment, certainly… it doesn’t end with a zero, and I gain no new rights or abilities that I otherwise haven’t been allowed these previous 28 years. But yet, when I dig much deeper, this birthday is huge. This birthday is the biggest one yet.
This birthday is the Renaissance Birthday.
(By Renaissance I certainly don't mean I'm becoming a minstrel this year. Maybe next year. Hell, I knew there was no way to make it sound good.)
Starting on Tuesday and for a starter period of the next twelve months, I am setting about on a pretentious period of dynamic and sweeping change… to my health, to my career and finances, to my relationships, all the way down to my surroundings in society (and if you take that to mean I’m going to be doing a lot more recycling, you’ve got me dead to rights).
Some of these changes will be small and sublime – for instance, me purchasing energy-saving light bulbs, which is one of the early items on the list – won’t necessarily affect my screenwriting projects, but when taken all toll, the entire twelve months are going to produce a leaner, happier, healthier me… just in time for my 30th birthday.
A sample of the tasks include:
* Radically overhauling a diet to say goodbye to some LONG-TERM staples… such as non-whole grain breads and pastas, sugar, beer, those ridiculous Cinnamon Mini-Bagels from Pepperidge Farm that I'm convinced are laced with black tar heroin, and the most difficult goodbye… Starbucks
* Creating a savings account and preparing for actual adult purposes… such as a new car and possibly real estate... unless I just move back in with my parents
* Expanding my worldview to include much more culturally diverse offerings – museum stops, a reading list that would choke a horse (provided you attempted to make said horse eat a pile of books), learning Spanish, and more
* The Big One – training properly and completing a marathon next July… right before the 30th birthday. This serves a couple of purposes… it will instill better discipline in my physical life, it will give me time to focus on a large goal, and it will exorcise the Philadelphia Marathon Demon that looms still to this day.
And I’ll be here… from time to time… keeping myself honest and moving 12 months forward into the 30s and out of the period of quarter life crises and malaise.
Kennedy once said “If not now, when?” The time is definitely now.
After this visit to Starbucks, I mean.
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