It’s a brand spanking New Year. Spell check makes me capitalize these two words when they are together.


But then it might seem like we are all write-yelling at each other which could cause some hard feelings if everyone isn’t clued in on all the celebratory exuberance.

But I am a little concerned. It’s the evening of January 1 and I have not come up with any kind of plan for 2015.

Usually I have this ridiculously long list already written by mid-December and the last week is just for narrowing things down to a more manageable and achievable plan. Which things on the list do I most want to change, try or achieve? I have had to put off learning how to play the violin for years now because I have yet to actually purchase a violin. Logic has to come in somewhere in this process of better me making.

I think I may have to make last year’s goals THIS year’s goals since I mostly didn’t accomplish them last year. It seems kind of wrong to make new goals when I haven’t achieved the old ones. The plan in 2014 was to hit $3 million in sales, write a blog post every other week and get back to a loose size ten. Each goal was concrete and achievable and I have gone over and over it in my head the reasons why I didn’t succeed and I think I have it figured out.

The reason I didn’t hit my sales goal is because I didn’t have a theme song. I couldn’t take enough of my competitors’ business away from them because I didn’t have inner bad ass music playing in my head ALL THE TIME. I listened to Mozart and Lady Antebellum and Norah Jones WAY TOO MUCH. It made me soft. My theme song this year will be “Jungle” by x Ambassadors with JAY Z. It’s been decided. No more soft shit. It’s about focus. This here bad ass is gonna get it done.

The blog posting every other week goal was hard. Sometimes it takes me forever to write five hundred words. I am just not quick in the process. When I tell my family I am going to go do some writing they all groan and say “Well, guess we will see you tomorrow”. There are times when I just sit and stare at the blank screen. Other days I write Haiku with swear words or nasty limericks just to get WORDS on the page. It bugs me that writing doesn’t always just flow out of me. But when I tried to write a post every day in November I noticed that words came out easier the more I wrote, like when an athlete or a musician practices every day: they mess up a TON but eventually there is this moment when they think “I could be good if I keep at it” and this moment is jet propellant. Fuel. Everyday bad ass fuel.

Now. This size ten deal? It’s a serious quandary. I enjoyed being a loose size ten. It’s the smallest I have ever been as an adult. I felt light and peppy and free of very much jiggle. As someone who has jiggled her whole life, this was a nifty time for me. But, I was running 40-50 miles a week and questioned everything that went into my mouth “How will this affect my run tomorrow?” Seriously? Spinach and oatmeal? Lame. No one wants to be around people like this. Overachieving people who won’t let themselves eat a bag of peanut butter cups when they NEED to. Right now I am rolling my eyes at myself. My past size ten obnoxious self. I think I just might be meant to be a bigger woman, one who jiggles. I have not yet bought bigger pants but I think it’s time. I’m tired of my clothes hurting me and I’m tired of feeling like I am letting myself down by not fitting into a ten anymore. Wearing clothes that are too small for me this last year has been unkind and self defeating. I was talking to my friend the other day and we decided, after a lot of gentle words, that a size fourteen is going to be fine. It’s not obese. It’s not unhealthy. I told my husband about this conversation. He said “Are you really a size fourteen?” I say “Well I WILL BE when I BUY that size.”

I think this year I’m going to discover my real size. And whatever the hell the number is there will be spinach AND peanut butter cups and it will be bad ass in a good ass kind of way. Even if it jiggles it will have bad ass theme music. And I will practice wearing it every day and feed it bad ass fuel. Until it doesn’t hurt any more and I am comfortable being in the skin that fits in that size.



  1. notsoquietmomma says:

    Yes Yes I need a theme song too!!! Pretty sure my 2 year olds theme song is Roar by Katy Perry because she sings it over and over again. To me size 10 has always been my goal size too. Sounds like you’re kickin off the New Year in style

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pat Clayton says:

    Big bad ass is not my favorite expression. I just had to toss a size 14 in the Goodwill sack because they had shrunk so much, probably by getting smeared with all those goodies my daughter insists on feeding me. It’s a conspiracy!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sara says:

    “Bad ass” is one of my favorite expressions. Go and be Bad Ass in2015 Heather…whatever size pant that turns out to be!

    Liked by 1 person

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