If Others Judged Me the Way I Judge Myself

Being a female, I am no stranger to judgement. Judgement of character, intelligence, and appearance by oneself as well as by others. Everyone is judged at some point in their life but in my experience, females have a tendency to judge themselves more than anything. This phenomena is so intriguing to me.

Recently I have been paying more attention to the things friends tell me about themselves. They don't like their nose. They think they are fat. They have big feet. Most of these things are news to me. I never  once noticed a problem with the nose, or the size of the feet or even the body fat.

This got me thinking. I too pick myself apart at times and notice things that I am unhappy with. Do other people notice these same things? I will not venture to say these little details slide by everyone, however I am sure that most people don't even notice. So why are we judging ourselves? Do we pick ourselves apart because we aren't good enough for society or because we aren't good enough for ourselves? Why are we constantly harping on the things that makes us who we are?

All of these thoughts made my mind start spinning and forced me to imagine a day where everyone else judges me like I normally judge myself. I think it would go something like this:

I wake up, get ready and go downstairs to make breakfast. My roommate walks in the kitchen and I look down at today's ensemble because she must be thinking, wow, Katie really thinks that outfit looks good? 
I leave the house and stop at Starbucks on the way to work - it's going to be one of those days, I just know it. As I wait at the counter for my change, my hands are folded into loose fists because the barista who takes my money must be thinking, she could really use a manicure on those hands. Her chipped nail polish looks terrible. 
I turn around, looking for a place to stand that is out of the way and second guess my high-calorie coffee choice. The man standing behind me must be thinking, she definitely doesn't need that latte today. In fact, she could use a gym session or two. 
I grab my latte and make my way to work. Once there, I put my things down and sit at my computer. My coworker walks by and I inconspicuously put my hand up to my head in an effort to cover my face. I try to make it look like I was pushing hair behind my ear because she must be thinking, looks like Katie forgot to do some of her make up today. 
As the work day passes I get a bit tired. A different coworker comes to my office to ask me a question. I reach my hand up to my head, feel the bun my hair is pulled back into and wonder how it looks right now, because he must be thinking,  Katie should have straightened her hair today. It doesn't look as nice pulled back. 
The work day ends and I make my way home. I am sitting on the couch when my roommate sits next to me. I nervously look down at my underarms for noticeable sweat marks - it was warm in my office today. I do this because my roommate must be thinking, Katie sure does sweat a lot. 
I bet she is also thinking that I smell, too. 

All of these quirks, from my chipped fingernail polish to my nervous armpit check are small parts that help make up who I am. Ask anyone who has spent more than a day with me and they can probably tell you something they've noticed about me that stood out. Whether that be my makeup-less day or my hair that is pulled back into a bun, they notice.

All too often we judge ourselves based on what we think others are thinking of us. I know I am guilty. Although the above description was fictional, some of the things listed have gone through my mind before. Sometimes I do wonder if other people notice my make up, or lack there of. Sometimes I do wonder if people can smell my stressful day at work. However, the question should not be if they wonder, but why does it matter? Who are we being judgmental for?

If other people were, in fact, judging us the way we judge ourselves - it would sound as silly as my description above. And if they aren't making it a point to point these things out, why are we doing it to ourselves?

5 Reasons Why I Have a Love Hate Relationship With the Gym

I was talking to a friend earlier today about the gym and he mentioned something that I think is worth sharing. He said, "everyone has that one thing they hate about the gym." This statement seems to be true, unless you are me of course, because I have happen to have more than one thing I hate about the gym. It is because of these things that I have developed quite the love hate relationship with it.

It's not that the gym ever did anything to deserve this kind of resentment, it's more about the personal experience I had with it. What I am trying to say is, it's not it, it's me.

Katie's List of Reasons That Contributed to the Love Hate Relationship With the Gym:

1. It is not socially acceptable to drop it low to the beat of the music at the gym.
    Before I go to the gym, I get myself pumped by listening to fast-paced, high-energy music. On occasion, I also partake in the crack-like pre-workout powder as well. The combination of these two energy boosters is highly entertaining. By the time I get to the gym I am often so pumped that I can't help but react to my music in the best way possible. It turns out, this is not a socially acceptable practice at the gym.
    My most recent experience with this was on the ham curl machine. This machine works the hamstrings and gluts (well, if you do it correctly it does) and it does so horizontally. You lay down on the machine, putting the weighted bar just over your ankles and curl up. I put my headphones in, assumed the position and before I could get a fiver in, "I Love It" by Icona Pop came through my headphones and my bottom side started dancing without my permission. It does this often. My head then began to bob from side to side and next thing you know I am ham curling to the beat, and wiggling all over the place. I am telling you from experience, do not try this at home, or at the gym, because apparently it is not socially acceptable.

2. My thigh muscles swell after a few good workouts and all of a sudden the left and right side are inseparable. 
    Leg days are not my favorite for this reason. I really do not like when my muscles swell after just a few good sets and all of a sudden my legs decide to hug when I am walking. They don't normally touch in the middle and I am not a fan of this happening. After all that hard work and exhaustion you'd think they would hate each other and part ways, but nope! Not only do they swell up and touch, they also make me walk funny, which leads me to my next reason.

3. Unless you have mastered the exit walk on leg day, you are screwed, literally. 
    After a good leg day, my muscles are swollen, like I previously stated and it makes me walk funny (or at least I feel like I am walking funny). I always go into the locker room at the end of my workout to  freshen up and check my leg progress. After giving myself a once-over I head for the car. This is where the exit walk comes in handy and unfortunately for me, I have not mastered it. When I take that last walk out of the locker room, after a really good leg day, it looks as though I just did something highly inappropriate in the locker room. It doesn't help that i'm usually sweating, out of breath and my hair is a mess from doing abs on the floor mats. Wonderful. Now, not only are my thighs hugging, I look like I just sinned with someone in the sauna.

4. Protein, protein its magical juice, the more you drink, the more you...?
    Crop dust! That's right. The gym is always so busy when I go that on any given day I can be crop dusted and have no one to pin it on because there are always more than two people behind me. Not that I would ever walk up and accuse someone of doing a drive-by crop dust but, I wish I could. Keep that bottom side plugged up or walk into the bathroom. Seriously. It's gross.

5. In my profession, eye contact is necessary and expected. Be careful where you try it at the gym, though!
    It never fails that every time I am on the inner thigh adduction machine (the sexual ones where you are repeatedly opening and closing your legs) someone always makes eye contact with me in the open position. AWKWARD. While I always wear appropriate gym clothing, it doesn't take away the uncomfortable feeling. Not to mention, when this happens I always look down and double check for holes in the crotch region and then people begin to wonder why I am looking in that area. I can't win.
    I've tried to avoid this a few different ways. Looking up didn't help. Can you imagine someone repeatedly opening and closing their legs with their head thrust back and face toward the ceiling? Not a good look. I think I will just close my eyes on this machine from now on.
    My last gym had it down - they turned the machines toward the wall instead of facing the middle of the gym. Um, duh! This gym needs to figure it out!

What Your Gynecologist Won't Tell You

Maybe I am just naive and most women over the age of fifteen know this secret already, but I couldn't believe my ears when I heard my gynecologist tell me I could just skip my menstrual cycle while I was in Europe.

Excuse me? Why is this the first time I am hearing this information?

To fully understand my surprise and frustration it would be helpful to know the history behind the visit that led me to this astonishing news, as well as my menstrual cycle and the horror it brings with it. Now, I know what you are thinking and don't worry - I am not going to give you in depth details about the less than appealing liquid aspect of my cycle. None of us should have to endure that kind of torture so I will save you the pain and keep it to myself.

Lets start with the history of the little demons mother nature forced upon me as a high schooler and the perfect timing she had that was the cherry on top of it all (sorry - I couldn't resist).

The story began when I was changing into my swim suit to get ready for our family vacation - 8 days on a houseboat on Lake Oroville. Nothing but swim suits, jet skis, water toys and fun in the sun.

"Yeah, right," thought mother nature. "Cue the torture."

She must have been thinking exactly that because as soon as I slipped out of my pants and underthings, I noticed something that would change my life. You guessed it - I started my menstrual cycle the day we were leaving to the land of half naked humans and probably boys. Yep - great timing, mother nature.

I cried. I cried so much. I thought my life was over. All I could think was, not now, not today, this can't be happening. It was the worst possible timing and to the then 14 year old, it meant my life was over.

My mom tried to console me. She assured me my life was not over. She had a solution. And, of course she did - she's mom!

GREAT! Mom's got a solution. We're going to plug this leak up and move on.

Wrong.

Little did I know - young girls my age are encouraged to only use feminine pads. No plugs for me. Well, that is going to look just darling in my swimsuit, now isn't it?

I immediately went back into 'my life is over' mode.

Fast forward a year or two, countless sleepless nights, heating pads and the fetal position and we arrive at "the pill".

Yes, it might come as a surprise to some that not everyone uses birth control to control birth. It is also used to regulate out of control menstrual cycles like the one I was lucky enough to receive. Its almost as if it came bundled up in a little package and, like most packaged deals, you can't just have part of it, you have to take all of it. All of the emotional ups and downs, all of the muscle weakness and cramping, and the multiple days of pain and agony wondering when life will return to the normal state, it's all included in the package. The only foreseeable, long-term solution at the time was birth control.

Those little tiny pills were like pieces of heaven sent down by the gods. Although they didn't take the pain away completely, they turned the 15-17 day horror film into the normal 4-7 day, PG-13 version. That, I could deal with. However, the best was still yet to come.

I was happier than a clam when I found out about Seasonique, a birth control pill pack that regulates your cycle to come 4 times a year. Score! I was on that like white on rice, stink on poop, and any other fitting analogy you can come up with. Now THIS was heaven. With this new prescription I only had to deal with the little ovary demons four times a year instead of twelve. It was still painful during those 4 weeks but it was tolerable.

Fast forward again to this past summer when I was planning the final details and preparing for my life-changing Eurotrip, and you will find me in the Gynecologist's office. The problem: the demons were supposed to be visiting the first week I was in Europe. Considering my track record of pain and agony, that wasn't going to fly.

I asked what my options were and even selflessly offered to sacrifice my week prior to the trip so I didn't have to endure the pain during that first week and that is when I found out the shocking news.

My options were as follows:

1. Move the cycle up a week
2. Or "simply skip the cycle this time around and start your next pill pack early."

Those were the words straight from the horse's mouth. You have got to be kidding me. Since when can we just skip our cycles? I have been dealing with this crap for years and have never been told I can just skip it and not have to deal with it.

She assured me that it was safe and that women do it all the time when things like this come up. It does not harm the body, nor will it affect any normal, birth control-regulated cycle in any way.

I couldn't really tell you if I was happy or upset at this point in time. I was thrilled that I wouldn't have to worry about those little demons while I was traveling but at the same time, I was floored because I had been dealing with the excruciating pain for years and had no idea that I could skip it, even just once.

Why? Why don't the gynecologists share such important information, especially dealing with cases like mine? Is there more money in it for them? Are there really health concerns that come with it that she failed to mention when discussing me skipping the demons for the Eurotrip? Or do all of the doctors, nurses and front desk girls just enjoy the laugh on their coffee breaks when they see these women who can't fight back against those little demons who carry pitchforks and torches and set fire to your insides?

So many unanswered questions but, I am here to share with you this wonderful information:

If you don't feel like dealing with the horror film for a week, if you don't want to face the demons and the pain they inflict on your lady parts, if you just want to go two months or even three without balling yourself up into the fetal position for hours until you fall asleep and are numb to the pain, skip your damn cycle! Why?

BECAUSE YOU CAN!

I Don't Know What I Want to be When I Grow Up!

After paying thousands of dollars to the higher education gods, taking numerous stressful courses, writing more words than even exist in my vocabulary on a day-to-day basis, and graduating with a degree I was sure I would use immediately, I can honestly say that at this exact point in my life, I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up.

What is this the result of? Traveling the world? Having my first job after college? Not being able to jump in the car and take off on a road trip whenever I want anymore? Or is it simply because I am just 21-years-old? Maybe Avicii's song "Wake Me Up" just really got inside my head.

Aren't I supposed to know what I want out of life at this point? Don't these crazy ideas normally happen in college when students have time to change their mind and start over on another path to greatness? Does this really happen to people after all that hard work and dedication has come to a close? Aren't I supposed to be living my life with the degree I just earned, making a living and saving for the rest of my life and all of the fun, crazy, beautiful, wonderful things that will happen during it?

Before I confuse everyone else as much as I, myself, feel that I am, let me clear something up:

I do not feel like I should have gone to school for anything other than what I did. I just don't know what I want to do with that little piece of paper that tells me I'm now qualified to do so much.

There are so many options and so many paths I can take with my degree and it seems nearly impossible to figure out which one is right for me. I come up with new ideas every day of what makes me happy and I seek opportunities to bring those ideas to life but nothing happens. That is partially due to a lack of opportunities in my area, lack of experience on my end and a complete lack of knowing where I want to be and what I want to do.  What I do know is that I want to do something that I love every day. I want to make people smile. I want to help others. I want to contribute to society in a positive way.

I know I can do that with the degree I have now but how exactly do I accomplish those goals? What position, what job title, what role in society is going to get me to that point?

Blogging? Travel blogging? Social media? Digital media? Event planning? Host my own talk show? Become a TV personality? Do public relations in house or maybe for an agency? Do I want to be a freelance worker or answer to the man at someone else's company? Do I want to work the normal 8-5 or make my own hours?

I get so anxious trying to figure out what it is that I am supposed to do in life and I feel as though I am just running in circles and getting no where. Is it just going to fall into place? I wish I had the answers. It sure would save me a lot of stress from wondering where I am going to be in a year, 5 years or even 10 years from now. Maybe I am not supposed to know just yet. Who knows?

................................................................................................

I'll leave you with this little anecdote that I like to look back on when my mind gets to racing like this..

I met a man once while I was working at the hospital. He came into the ER with his wife who needed to be seen for a minor health issue. Since there weren't many people in the waiting room at the time they sat and talked with me until they got called back into a room. They asked me about school and life goals and plans. I told them what I wanted to do and they smiled and told me I was going to do well, no matter the job. They told me about their life-long marriage and how they have loved every minute of being together. Then, right before his wife was called back to see the doctor, the man then looked at me, right in the eyes and said with a serious tone, "I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up." Then he laughed. Him and his wife were both in their late 60's.


....Should I even be worried?

Euro Trip Mini Blog 7

It's only money.

That is what my parents tell me and that is what I'm going with!

We had quite the (you guessed it) adventure getting from Rome to Barcelona. 

After killing our legs for two days, walking the city of Rome, seeing everything and anything we could in the short time we had, we ran (all joking aside) with our packs to make the train we had to make to get to the ferry on time in Civitavecchia, Italy. 

When we got to the platform (platform 27 - of course the very last and furthest one there is) we were dripping with sweat, red and out of breath. The train we were supposed to take had broken doors so it was still sitting there. Yes! We were then told it would be delayed even more. Drat! Then, come to find out the train next to us that left two minutes after we got there, went to the same place. We could have been on it. Instead, we jumped on the next available train and arrived 15 minutes later than it was scheduled to. 

Per the phone conversation with two employees from the ferry company, the one that had us running in the first place, we had to arrive at least 2 hours before the ferry in order to book the €160 private room and get the Eurail discount. 

The ferry was scheduled to leave at 10:15pm. We arrived at 9:00pm and had to run, again, with our packs, over a kilometer to have any chance in even getting on the ferry, nonetheless booking a room.

Again we arrived out of breath, red and dripping sweat. But, much to our surprise we were still able to book a room, although, that wasn't the only surprise. A private room would now cost us €370 each. A shared, 4-bed room would cost us €135 each and we would have to sleep in separate rooms because they are booked based on gender. 

We told the woman at the window that we spoke to someone on the phone and saw prices online, which both resulted in different information. She told us our Eurail passes weren't valid at the ticket office and the only way to book with the Eurai is to do so at a place in Rome or another city, even though the ferry leaves from Civitavecchia. She simply didn't care. So we booked separate rooms and headed on the ship for our first ever, surprise, double-what-we-thought-it-was, cruise. 

When we got on the ship we decided to talk to the women working reception there. We told them what we had gone through to see if we could get an upgrade and they informed us that a private room is actually only €100 more than what we paid for our separate rooms and that none of the rooms even come close to €370 each. 

Basically - no one knew what they were talking about. 

End result? We upgraded and €400 later we enjoyed the most overpriced, ill-serviced, mini-cruise from Italy to Spain there is. We had to pay €5 for 30 min of wifi, got to sit next to a pool the size of a queen-sized bed and pay €6 for a vodka orange juice (but with a day like that - you don't say no to a drink)! 

Oh and did I mention the private room we paid €100 extra to upgrade to was actually a 4-bed dorm that was simply made no longer available to the public? That's right - 4 beds, two down, two up, a toilet and a shower. It was cramped with just the two of us so I can't even imagine it with 4. 

The plane tickets we were told of earlier that would cost €140 each to go directly from Rome to Barcelona started to sound pretty damn good at that point. We chose the "lower-priced cruise" because we thought it would be something new, fun and half the price of two plane tickets. Little did we know.. 

Albeit, we made the best of it and got to Spain safely. After all, it is only money, right? 

On the agenda for tomorrow: Spanish sight seeing, costal kayaking, cave snorkeling, and eating our weight in Spanish food! If we can't make a proper  entrance, you best believe we will make a proper exit! 

Spain, watch out! 

Xoxo

Photo above: waves behind our ship.

Photo above: smiling through it in the hallway of the cruise ship!

(Camera added some weird green thing to my face - that's not me, promise)! Haha