I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve been freaking out ever since I saw this:image

My first worry was that TJ was going to be less than thrilled about the situation. Not in a “don’t have this baby” way, but a super-crazed, planning for the apocalypse kind of lock down.

But that didn’t happen. He was happier than I could have even hoped. He got a little liquored up… but that’s to be expected at an open bar at your company’s Christmas party.


I was still terrified. Here I am, 25 years old, VERY MUCH still in college debt, barely scraping by, and not even CLOSE to doing what I want with my life… and now I’m growing a person inside of me.

Everyone was so excited when we told them, so I tried to be excited too… but part of me just wasn’t.

Even when this popped up on the little screen:


If anything, I became more overwhelmed that there is, in fact, a baby growing in there.

It has not been an easy pregnancy thus far. Around-the-clock nausea and fatigue in the first trimester. Debilitating migraines and fatigue in the second. Having a REALLY hard time coping with how my body is changing. Frustrated by my inability to do things and think clearly. Feeling like there’s no way in hell I’m going to be any good at parenting once the baby comes.

I feel incredibly lucky that I am able to get pregnant, so please don’t misunderstand my lament. It’s just that, so far, I haven’t experienced much that makes me happy to BE pregnant.

Yeah, I love babies, and I’ve always wanted one… but like most of us, I always assumed it would be on my terms. I would be married. I would have more money. I would have less debt. I would feel like I had achieved something in my desired career path. And none of this is the case. So I’ve been feeling a little lost, and a little bitter about this whole pregnancy thing.

Then I was browsing Instagram and saw this picture. I don’t know what did it, but something about the picture hit home for me. I thought – YES. This is what I want.

And I may have cried a little bit. Pregnancy hormones do that.

Despite my fears and insecurities and frustrations, I am (finally) really excited for the future. My body is growing a BABY with a little help from the DNA of my FAVORITE person and we’re going to raise a child together. No, we’re not perfect, and maybe we won’t always know what we’re doing, but that doesn’t matter. We make an incredible team, and whatever issues come up, we’ll help each other through them. Because that’s what we do.

So right now, the only thing I’ve overwhelmed by is how in love with this man I am.


(okay, and maybe the whole delivery thing too, but I’m not gonna think about that right now.)


This Morning Was a Cold Opening

I’m in SoCal, so I’m not talking about the weather. On T.V. shows before the credits roll, there is sometimes a scene grabbing the audience’s attention and pulling them into the show so they don’t change the channel before the show starts. Sometimes it has to do with the plot (finding a body in L&O) and sometimes it doesn’t (random comedic bantering in Modern Family). This is called a cold opening.

That was my morning. I had the most crazed, epic adventure, all before 7:30am.

After having to work late last night, TJ had to be to work super early this morning; which meant pretty limited sleeping time. Normally, I’d get up when he wakes up to get his breakfast ready, pack his lunch and feed the dogs. Because I’ve been sleeping so terribly, he insisted I sleep longer instead. (He’s pretty great like that – hence yesterday’s Instagram post.) So he kissed me goodbye around 5:30am and I KNOCKED OUT.

I vaguely remember my alarm going off and hitting the snooze… but the next thing I knew, I blinked my eyes open feeling strangely rested – then panicked and checked what time it was. I overslept. I had 15 minutes before I was supposed to leave for my 7am client.

I leapt out of bed, brushed my teeth and got water boiling for coffee. Trying to give myself a little bit of a buffer, I texted my client to say I was running around 5 minutes late – I can totally get ready in 20 minutes. Fed the dogs, packed a lunch and put a bagel in the toaster. Ran around like a crazy person, simultaneously chugging my OJ and throwing clothes on just in time to walk back in the kitchen and find a burnt bagel.

Oh well, hungry pregnant lady needs to eat. Slathered it in my special greek yogurt cream cheese and began gnawing on a very crunchy bagel while trying to throw all my weights and resistance bands into my bag. Loaded everything into the truck and took a sigh of relief as I looked my watch a saw that I was, indeed, only going to be 5 minutes late.

You could roll opening credits now and think, “man, this is going to be a zany show filled with unfortunate and comical events.” BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE.

We’ve been having a few problems with the truck. TJ has been working really hard to get it drive-able for me, but there’s still a few things that need some tinkering… like the neutral safety switch… it doesn’t really have one right now. It’s totally fine though because TJ told me how to deal with the wires if the truck is being finicky, so when the truck didn’t immediately start up this morning, I wasn’t worried. I knew what to do.

Except when I got down on the ground to crawl under the truck, there was a LAKE of a puddle of (what is probably) coolant. We’ve been having some radiator problems too. Not wanting to be any later, I whipped my jacket and t-shirt off and half rolled under the truck in just my sports bra – I didn’t have time to change again. I pushed the wires back into one another and thought, great, let’s go! Except when I turned the key, it still didn’t work. Texted my client to say I was having car issues but could fix them, and asked if she wanted a short session or to cancel; she opted for a shorter session. So I took a breath and thought “okay, let’s do this.”

Ran back in the house and got a beach towel to lay over said puddle. Got all the way under the truck and examined the wires to see that they could use a little more electrical tape. I didn’t know where the tape was and thought about texting TJ, but then I remembered he was in a meeting, told myself to grow up and think for a minute, and found the tape in the toolbox. Crawled back under, added some tape and expected success.

No dice. I weighed my options… I could Uber around all morning… I had 3 back to back clients and canceling would certainly cost me more than the short Uber rides. I could rent a ZipCar, but then I would definitely have to cancel my first client and it would cost almost what I’d make all day. Or, I could fix the damn wires.

So I crawled back underneath, untaped everything and retaped it all until it looked right. Going on adrenaline-induced self confidence, I quickly jumped in the truck, toweled myself off and turned the key – it worked! I fixed it! I was only 15 minutes late for my client and I didn’t even need to bug TJ.

I am pregnant Maguyver, hear me roar.

7:15 am – Roll opening credits.

3 back-to-back clients with no major issues. Ran 2/1/30 for 3.5 miles with the second. Made it to the store in time to meet a new sales rep. Rewarded myself after lunch with some Oreo cookies.

Only 7 more hours of this day to go…

Train and Recover

So… I did it. I registered for the Hansen Dam Sprint Triathlon on August 17th. It definitely changed my workout plan for the next 5 weeks, and fitting everything in between shooting the web series I was cast in and our trip to PA/NYC will be a little tricky, but I’m committed.

I went to the pool on Thursday after work to see where my swimming endurance is at. I psyched myself up, politely asked a clearly focused young man if he would mind sharing a lane with me, kicked off from the wall… and my swim top completely came down. Laps were out of the question. Instead I did some technique work with the kick board, alternating between just using my legs making sure to force my hips down, and arm strokes. After 20 minutes of this, I hopped on a bike and did one of the pre-programmed random hill workouts. I’ve never sweat so much while biking; it was DRIPPING off of me. I was pretty happy with the results of the ride. I averaged 3:20min/mi so I’m hoping to keep the bike portion under 40 minutes during the race. I went for a very hot and sweaty run after my client on Saturday morning, but I don’t think I was properly hydrated before hand and I hit a wall at 2 miles. The first two miles were at 8:15 and 8:34, so it sucked real hard to have that last mile be 9:30, but oh well; I have time.

After my run, I met up with a new friend for brunch at the very trendy Sqirl in Silverlake. The food was INSANE; we shared toast and jam which sounds lame, but they started out by just selling jam and the reason for their success was SUPER apparent in their strawberry thyme jam and incredible flaky, fresh brioche toast. I also had the sorrel pesto rice bowl which was topped with a poached egg and prosciutto… um, YUM.

And then my weekend went kind of downhill…

I was hesitant to write this post, and yet I feel the need to get it out of my system.

I’ve struggled with a number of eating disorders for most of my adult life, and even a little before then. Thanks to the support of my incredible boyfriend and the outlet of this blog, I’m ten months into my ED recovery. I openly share this information. But that vague acknowledgement is about how deep I get into it, especially during an actual conversation that’s not with a shrink or my boyfriend.

And maybe that’s my first mistake; thinking people will take in this information and not make too many assumptions or judgements about what something like that actually means. Just because I no longer force myself to throw up after eating doesn’t mean I don’t deal with the psychological aspects of an ED everyday. Even though I now exercise a healthy amount doesn’t mean I don’t obsess over each inch of my body. The ability to eat multiple meals in a day, including desserts didn’t come with some magic wand to erase the guilt that sometimes creeps in to my food choices.

Like many addictions, recovery doesn’t mean fully recovered. Especially in a society when we are so aware of our bodies and the bodies around us, and ESPECIALLY for me in an industry where the majority of your success is based on what you look like.

I got away with having an ED for a long time without anyone noticing. Because it never made me skinny. Yes, I was the chubby girl with an ED, who when I finally confided in my then-boyfriend about it, he asked if I was “just making an excuse for all the bad food choices I’d been making.” No one was ever worried I was sick, or told me I looked too thin, or joked that I should eat a cheeseburger. I wanted them to; I dreamed of the day someone might ask me if I was okay because I was looking skinnier than usual.

Instead, I beat myself up in silence. Not only was I not good enough because of how I looked, I wasn’t good enough because I couldn’t even have an eating disorder properly. So I started to convince myself I didn’t actually have a problem. Only skinny girls have EDs and I wasn’t one of them.

It took a long time for me to accept that even though my ED wasn’t affecting me outwardly like I hoped it would, it was clearly messing me up inside, and I’m still suffering from some of the effects. I’m pretty convinced my poor digestive issues have years of not eating, and over eating, and self-inducing vomiting to blame. My gums have receded. My skin is terrible. You could never see my ribs, but you could see the dark circles under my eyes.

I’m still chubby. I’m strong, but I’m chubby. I still struggle with my relationship with food. I still have negative self-talk and hate my body. I still assume people will judge me for “not being good at having an ED” because I never lost enough weight doing it to cause alarm.

When people who don’t know me make a flippant comment about eating disorders, I say nothing. How could they possibly know who EDs affect, and how they deal with them not only physically, but emotionally? They don’t, and I would never hold that against them.

But when people who DO know, people in whom I’ve confided this part of my history of self, try to tell me how I should emotionally react to situations… it’s deeply hurtful.

I’ve come a long way since my first stint with anorexia when I was 15. Hell, I’ve come a long way in the past 10 months. Still, I’m not as strong emotionally as I am physically, and I think that sometimes people confuse the two. I’ve come a long way… but I’ve still got a long way to go.