Pipe Dreams and Cloud Castles

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You know what? I've been in the teens for so long that I feel quite comfortable in them.
Twenty is approaching apace (i. e. in two months) and I'm still in denial. It's not like I don't want to be old someday, or I'm obsessed with youth...I've just had a lot of fun being a teen wife and teen mama, and I feel like I'm giving up my favorite sweater. The twenties will take some breaking in.

But as I get older, a couple of old fancies which have been embedded into my subconscious for a while are working themselves out, and the realizations have hit. They hurt, but I'm slowly accepting them. I'll survive...I think.

1. Hannah, you are not Rapunzel. You never will be. So keep your hair cut.

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Ever since I can remember I have dreamed of growing my hair out looong long long. It went perfectly with my picture of ultimate beauty--rippling floor-length dresses...bell sleeves...pointy ears...

It didn't help that we were friends with a family who had three gorgeous teen girls who kept their hair exactly the way I wanted mine. It flowed to their knees, was glossy and smooth, and oh, it was just lovely. So ever since, my default has been to grow my hair as long as I can with that goal in mind. But it is so frustrating and I don't really put the time into the maintenance long hair requires, and it's not thick enough to avoid looking stringy, so it generally just gets thrown together. I've got a job, people. So I looked around and after assessing my friends and relations and observing that none of them have Rapunzel hair and they are FINE, I've finally decided to let my imaginary ropes and ropes of braids go--and have hair that can actually look as taken-care-of as I want it. I still plan to keep long hair...just not VERY long. I, unfortunately, am not Rapunzel.

2. You are not a pioneer woman. So work out.

It just seems silly. We spend all this time and money figuring out how to get places easier and faster, do our dirty work with machines, talk to people across the street from our couches...and then we have to spend MORE time and money hopping around in a very pointless fashion in order to keep ourselves functioning at any sort of healthy level. How does that make sense? So in the name of logic, I have put off a good exercise regime, thinking that maybe hooking up the washer and dryer on the second story would give me enough trips up the stairs to work up the necessary sweat.
It didn't.

So I sat down with myself and had a good talk. 

"Self," I said, "If you want to live that way, you're going to have to move somewhere with potato fields and outdoor plumbing. Otherwise, deal with the squat-jumps."

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So I have resigned myself and started the bodyweight 100-500 program. 

Jubilation.