Do you, baby!

Despite my maniacal driving skills and a scary dose of road rage against student drivers who just have to take lessons on a Sunday morning,  I still managed to get to Bikram 10 minutes late. Flustered, I tried to look inconspicuous as I rubbernecked the jam packed class for a spot. I inadvertently got the attention of the instructor who pointed to a teeny space up front. Mortified, I jumped right in and tried to avoid the glare of my neighbors who I had now, just violated their personal space. Feeling tense with images of berating my husband for making me late, I began to lose balance and focused on the heat and stench instead. Then, a distraction! A sweet, portly elderly woman wearing polyester pants and a knit top fell while attempting a pose. I had seen her before in previous weeks and wondered how the hell she managed to endure 90 minutes of torture in polyester? But, week after week- she comes back for more and thankfully, hasn't succumbed to wearing a sports bra and daisy dukes.

The incident got me thinking about the commitments we make. After granny hit the ground, it snapped me back into focus and I finished the class. In lieu of harboring anger towards my husband and teenage drivers- I simply let it go. Instead, I gave myself credit for not copping out and felt invigorated that I had done something positive so damn early on a Sunday morning. And though granny might have taken a little tumble- I thought about her amazing resilience. She could care less about wearing breathable fabric. All she really wants is to be in a room that's 107 degrees, surrounded by people whom she could be the great, great grandmother of. But hey! Talk about commitment! It was at this time, I decided that all commitments aren’t created equal. It’s the one’s that make you look and feel good, the one’s that make you want to spread love, and the one’s that bring joy to others, which are thought to be the one’s most worth committing to. How do you...DO you? Do tell…

UP, UP, & Away...

Just recently, I learned the art of straying from self inflicted bouts of doubt, feelings of isolation and a host of other negative habits that have kept me nice and stifled for years. Feeling bloated, lethargic, and depressed at 36 is not particularly attractive nor does it hold the keys to a loving and nurturing marriage. In fact, quite the opposite. So, one day I simply came to the realization that with nothing to lose, I would do just that…the opposite. Instinctively, curling up to a bowl of cheetos, suffering from long spells of writer’s block, and spewing negative commentary at anything that looked at me funny were all warm and fuzzy comfort measures. However, in my best effort towards self improvement and for the sake of raising a child without mommy issues, I became physically active, listened more than I spoke, and started to take accountability over my decisions.

Over time… I began to see things like silver linings, unicorns, and glasses that were half full. As evolution must, this is a process that takes time. I still battle my urges to judge, load up on carbs, and deny myself the pleasure of an occasional pity party. For so long, feeling bad meant feeling normal. It’s a dark road I hope to never cross again. And you- what have you got to lose? Do tell…

That's whatSUP!

Two months ago, on a whim I decided to enter a local TV station's essay contest about why i wanted to live a healthy lifestyle. The topic was completely foreign considering how out of touch I was about anything that resembled living the picture of perfect health. And while residing in Hawaii, working out, cutting carbs, and not by choice- eating brown rice instead of white all looked good on paper, I still couldn't shake the negativity that permeated my outlook. I blamed my impotent endorphins for my lack of happiness and felt a constant need to sweat the small stuff to justify my hourly mood swings.  All of which started to get old and lacked the same luster as it did in my 20's, making this as good a time as any to seek change. My entry, written at midnight was a rambling dissertation about genetic predispositions and a desire to finally start living. Half asleep, buzzed off a glass of Merlot, and feeling confident, I clicked the submit button and hoped for the best. 

A week later i received an email that i had won the contest. The grand prize, an intense 8 week course of stand up paddle (SUP) sessions. (think of standing on a surfboard using a paddle to maneuver through the waters at Ala Moana Beach). Not only did this mean i had to spend more than my usual 5 minutes in the ocean but i needed to perfect balancing on a paddle board AND try my best not to drown. So far, this has been a transformational experience. Aside from finally developing some muscle tone, I've also strayed from the comforts of frustration and irritability, and can honestly testify that when you mix a little whim, a glass of Merlot, and a desire to live...only good things happen! What's your concoction? Do tell...

the sisterhood of the traveling panties

Last Thursday my friend, Jen and I decided to check out Oahu's latest stylist gone fashion designer and her new launch at the Honolulu Design Center. Very reminiscent of Forever 21 meets Honolulu night life- it definitely suits its purpose here on the islands. If you're unfamiliar with the image, imagine this...an eclectic mix of Asians complete with surfer-esque body types and a bit too much MAC makeup for my taste but nevertheless, cute as hell! Pre-show, Jen and I indulged in a bit too much wine then moved on to the hard liquor when the show started an hour and half late. (who did these people think they were, Zac Posen!?) 

Despite the 90 minute wait, it gave us a chance to catch up.  Listening intently, we gabbed about the latest dish on work, husbands, prospective children, and the realization that moments like these were so few and far between. Back home, i have a group of 4 girlfriends whom i consider mi familia. And even after nearly 4 years away from Jersey,  they're as firmly planted in my heart as the day that i left. I miss them immensely but have learned that making new friends in a new playground is absolutely essential. My numerous attempts to make my husband girlfriend #5 have failed miserably. He's completely uninterested in my philosophical views on Project Runway, has no patience for my incessant bitching about the Housewives of Atlanta, and although occasionally indulges me by watching Sex in the City re-runs...i can tell his heart isn't in it. So, I've learned a very important lesson in the power of girlfriends. Though husbands are great for moonlight walks on the beach and procreation....NOTHING replaces another woman's perspective and their shared love for Carrie Bradshaw.  Who's in your circle of trust? Do tell...

soccer mom confidential

August marks the beginning of our daughter's 4th and final high school volleyball season. Typically, this means late nights, dinners a la the concession stand, and a VERY cranky teenager. An added twist to an already frenetic schedule is our puppy, Phifer who has adapted quite well to her new found latch key status since volleyball started. And just like seasons past, my husband and I turn up the Jersey and embody the ultra competitive, hyper critical, and wanna be positive "soccer parents". Yes, yes...we are THOSE parents. The one's who out cheer the cheer leading squad, coach our kid from the sidelines, and conjure up conspiracy theories about bad calls and perfect lineups. And while our methods have proven to be unconventional and/or extreme especially for the mild manner of Hawaii, its never deterred us from supporting our girl who goes off to play at NC State next fall. The experience has been amazing though admittedly, i would trade some of the unpleasantries associated with competition. From the insane father who wanted to fist fight my husband because his daughter didn't get a starting position to passive aggressive mothers who take snack schedules to a whole other level. I've since learned that although my voice may travel through the gym like i carry around a megaphone at least i'm not ridiculously bitter or anal about baking cupcakes with sprinkles! 

So as the beginning to the end of her high school career moves along, I make it a point to enjoy every minute. As a veteran varsity mom, I now feel qualified to dispense advice on how to maneuver through a season unscathed, although the reality is you probably can't. In the end and through it all, I think what really matters is that she knows we're there to cheer our hearts out, heckle the ref, and remind her to..."Reach, baby, reach"! How do you help the one's you love? Do tell...

the secret to my success

If you’ve ever wondered what’s up with the title of my blog, “Consistently inc”- here’s the story. A few years ago, I coined myself as being the most consistently inconsistent girl I knew. I could never decide whether I wanted to hug or hurt my husband, I loved to start things I’d never finish, and though I wasn’t fully aware of it- I would self sabotage every chance that I got. And though there were things that I was consistently consistent at like being a good mother- when it came to success, I realized that I was the biggest obstacle in the way of my imaginary brownstone on the Upper East Side, my oceanfront beach house in Kailua, and a closet full of Carolina Herrera.

As the years have passed, I’ve become quite the expert on CID (consistently inconsistent disease) and am here to tell you that there may be a cure. I think they call it “focus”? I apologize, having been exposed to the illness for so long has made my memory kind of fuzzy. Oh, wait- it’s coming to me now…yeah- it’s called focus. I’ve been actively working on my recovery which has been a long process. Mainly because I didn’t realize that it wasn’t success that was eluding me but me avoiding it. At times, there’s nothing more comforting than to make excuses for what you don’t have, why you don’t have it, and what’s she got that I don’t?! Finally, I’ve run out of reasons why I’m not where I should be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for my 9-5 job and enjoy a fairly comfortable lifestyle but recognize that the pace I’m going at now isn’t going to get me any closer to 5th avenue or Lanikai beach any time soon!

Been there- not doing that again!

On this much needed mental health day- i leave my puppy to fend for herself (i'm not good company today anyways), pack up my Mac Book and head to Town in Kaimuki for some "me time".  Alone with a great cup of coffee, i instantly find myself researching a cure for my sudden onset of the blahs. In times like these, logging on to TMZ or Perez Hilton typically does the trick. The constant oogling over such insignificant things like Michael Jackson's burial site, Lindsay Lohan losing her hair, and Jon Gosselin's newest flavor of the week pull me further from my own reality and have me obsessing about someone else's problems rather than my own. After 20 minutes, I had enough. Right now didn't seem like the time to be concerned about somebody else anyway, especially someone i didn't even know or care for. Hey, I've got my own ailments to worry about. 

So, in an effort to self medicate i switch from sleazy to self-help and check in with what Martha Beck might have to say about my symptoms.  She always seems to have a way of writing that gets through to me with her barrage of straight shooting reality checks and eye opening revelations. After 4 cups of Illy coffee, reading through 6 months worth of MB blogs, and a brief journal entry...i thanked God for whomever created mental health days to begin with. Then, an epiphany- if i took 20 minutes out of every day to worry about what celebutants and the NYC Prep retards were doing- then that meant i was depriving myself of 140 minutes to focus on myself.  In that time i could be reading (real books, that is), writing, working out, or hatching ways to improve my life. Perhaps this week, i paid way too much attention to office gossip and immersed  myself in volleyball politics. I allowed my mind to veer off course because the reality is, isn't it more fun to dissect someone else's problems rather than your own? Isn't reveling in someone else's failure easier than rectifying yours? And why do we spend so little time making things better only to look for more ways to make it worse? 

Been there, currently doing that, and now i'm DONE! Now i get it... 20 minutes, lots of writing, and 5 cups of coffee. That's my home remedy for combating the blahs...what's yours?