Wow, my days are really knocking the crap out of me.  Freelancing for three jobs is harder than I’d imagined.  I’ve come home from work every day this week totally exhausted.  It’s a feeling I haven’t really had in oh…eight months.  Today was a bit hectic, I started the day out writing for multiple projects but quickly had to pick myself up and head to the 59th Street Crunch Gym to test out a class, then I was off to my newest job, which is basically event planning and marketing.

Before I continue, let me just say: I have a new mission in life and that mission is to one day live in the upper east side and go to the Crunch on 59th and 2nd.  This was the most beautiful gym I’ve ever seen.  They had a full Pilates room!  With Pilates machines!  And, a separate yoga room!  Oh my, it was more than my lil gym loving heart could take.

Oh, right, so I went to Crunch to test out a class I’m scheduled to review for next week.  The class is based off of, and named after, the Oxygen network show Dance Your Ass Off. First let me say, this class was pure fun!  Oh, and I was dripping, dripping, dripping sweat.  Total workout, but I enjoyed every second of it.

Anyhoo, onto the thought provoking part of my story; whenever I take a danced based class at a gym I wear my old dance shoes from high school.  Although, I haven’t danced for years, I still keep my dance bag full of shoes, tights, bobby pins, ballet skirts, and leotards tucked neatly beneath my bed.  You know, in case I have some sort of Ballet emergency.

In high school I was on the dance team.  Yes, my name is Kim and I wore ribbons in my hair and danced in front of the band during football season, and bopped around in spandex during basketball season.  And, yes, there were pompoms invoved.  Feel free to stop reading me forever.  With dance team status came dansneakers, and well, I like to slip them on from time to time.  To me, they’re practically new.  But, now that I think of it, they’re about ten years old.

The wear and tear started to show during class today as I Jived, Charleston’d and Lindey’d around (it was Swing day), the soles and heals of my shoes started to come off.  By the end of class my shoes were hanging by a thread, and I was just hoping to not trip over them and fall on my face.  In the locker room, I looked at them and then I threw them out.  It was like throwing apart a piece of my past.

I am by no means a dancer, trust me, there are any number of things that describe me better.  But, I guess, deep down, it’s an image I once had of myself.  An image of a time in my life, a very formative time, when my life really was centered around class and practice and stretching and tights.  To this day I dream about dancing at least once a week.  I feel like somehow I’ve let myself down, by not growing up to be some other version of myself, a version that is elegant, and strong, and rhythmically inclined.  I had to take a minute today and remember why I stopped dancing, it wasn’t for lack of dedication, or will power, it was because it was literally distroying my body.  While I would have happily continued dancing till there was nothing left of my hips, my mother had the foresight to stop paying for class when doctors said I would need replacement hips before 30 if I didn’t stop.  Then it didn’t seem so bad, now that 30 isn’t all that far away, I’m pretty glad my mom stood her ground.

I think that sometimes we hold on to images of ourselves that don’t necessarily do us any good.  We torture ourselves for not being some idealized version of ourselves, for not making other choices when we had the chance, when in reality, we do the best we can with what we have.  We are who we are because of those experiences, and lack thereof.  There’s really very little use in wondering what ‘might have been’, because while we often assume it would be perfect, what might have been, might have been bad for us.

My mom once said (and she like to say I always misquote her just slightly on my blog) that simple minds live in the past, average live in the present, and great minds in the future.  I think it’s time to stop living in my past, and start thinking about who I want to be in the future.  You know, now that I’ll have my own hips and all…



Steel cut oats with 1 tsp. brown sugar, blackberries, walnuts
Coffee w/Stevia & soy milk



Lunch to go:

Whole wheat wrap w/hummus, avocado, tomato, arugula
Babybel cheese



2 Veggie dogs w/sauerkraut and mustard in whole wheat buns


Salad w/arugula, avocado, tomato, cucumber, feta, olive oil, vinegar, lemon juice


I’ve been passing by this magnet in a store for a while now, and every time I’m drawn to its message.
I finally decided that I loved it enough to make it a present to myself.  A present and a gentle reminder that the road ahead isn’t always easy, but it’s certainly not unattainable.