I've been in a funk lately. On Saturday, I didn't even bother to get out of my pajamas or leave the flat. Normally I would totally condone this type of behavior. Everyone needs some mental rehab days where they spend way too much time in bed watching DVR'd episodes of mindless television entertainment. But this wasn't my first day...or my second for that matter. I've been rocking the ole' sweatpants/dirty hair/no makeup combo for far too long.
Saturday night, after stalking Twitter and Facebook for the 900th time and noticing how everyone else seemed to be doing productive things with their days, like brushing their teeth or bothering to put on a clean t-shirt, I realized the madness had to stop. So I declared Sunday our Fake It 'Til Ya Make It Day. Foul moods be damned, Sean and I were going to salvage the rest of our weekend. And our sanity.
While I don't necessarily consider myself shallow, I do believe that one of the reasons for my funk was my complete lack of appreciation and care for myself. The sports therapist prohibited me from running, not from showering. It became obvious that I needed to change my attitude (and my outfit) pronto.
Things started out rocky as there was a lot of work to be done:
(I pray to God no one has a huge HD computer monitor and has to see this up close. Yikes.)
I'm not kidding when I say my feet resemble Bear Grylls. They are scary.
Fast forward an hour or two later and it is amazing what a little suds and scrubbing can do for a gal's morale.
Well, well, well. What do we have here? Look Gippeto, it's a real live girl!
When I woke up yesterday, I was most certainly faking it. As I straightened my hair and put on make up, I grumbled to myself how silly it all seemed. Did I really think this was going to solve anything?
It did. I had one of the best days in weeks and it wasn't the result of retail therapy, chocolate therapy, or tequila therapy (all highly recommended though)...it was simply because I stopped looking at things with such a negative perspective. Rather than sit on the couch and bitch about how there's never anything good on British television, I shut the tv off and went outside. Instead of complaining that I'd rather be in my tan suede stiletto booties, I appreciated the fact that I could walk yesterday free of shin pain. These small, simple steps made all the difference.
Does this fix my messed up shin, ear infection, and burnt hand? No. Have the stressors in my life been solved? Of course not. But my attitude certainly changed. (It is a scientific fact that it's difficult to be mopey in ruffles and tights, ya know)
Last night, Sean and I tried to make one of our favorite recipes. It's complicated and takes a long time to prepare, but we were ready for the challenge. Unfortunately, dinner had other plans for us. At every step of the recipe, something went awry. Wrong ingredients, ruined noodles, mis-measurements, you name it and we screwed it up.
But as I sat at 8:30 pm on a Sunday night, eating what resembled eggplant diarrhea for dinner and staring at a sink full of dirty dishes, I couldn't help but laugh...
...at some point in the day, I had stopped faking it. I was happy.
