Sunday, June 13, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Eight Hours.
We all read article after article of how the proper amount of sleep for our bodies is important, improving overall health along with increased energy levels and positive moods. There has been argument after argument about not being able to cheat sleep. Meaning that we can’t just skimp Monday through Friday and plan to “catch up” on the weekend.
After living with a mother that has struggled with narcolepsy and feelings of always being worn out or tired for twenty plus years and living twenty nine years of my own life I’ve finally figured it out and have found a way to keep my sleep balanced throughout the week which has resulted in less “crashing” and a better overall health. It use to be that I would get 6 or so hours, if that, some nights during the week and then on the rainy Saturday afternoons in my studio apartment I would sleep and sleep and sleep some more. I could sleep till noon if the shades were drawn and the ringer was off.
I’d wake up feeling worse than I did before I went to bed. Tired, fatigued and I lacked the energy to do basic things such as my Saturday morning workout and chores. I didn’t understand how I could still feel tired after getting twelve hour of sleep. After living like this for several years I finally experimented with all of the articles and advice I had read over the years and decided to incorporate a new lifestyle into my routine. I started by realizing one very important thing. I was no longer twenty-two. I needed sleep. Period. Eight solid hours is what I know my body needs to feel as close to chipper as humanly possible in the mornings and to stay that way throughout a long workday filled with meetings, workouts, dinners and various events.
If I could find a way to get my eight hours I could turn things around. And I did just that. I started focusing on a set bedtime which is now around 11:30pm and a set wake-up time around 7:30am, even on the weekends as painful as that sounds. Now I’ll be the first to admit, every rule is made to be broken and at times this doesn’t apply. I’d be lying to you and myself if I claimed that it did but the bottom line is that I try.
With that, I also know that my brain likes to pick up its activity levels in the wee hours of the evening so I have to force myself to shut down. Also, being that I live in a studio apartment I don’t have the luxury of having my bed in a quiet place away from the area in which I work and watch television. So I’m forced to get creative and I do this by lighting candles, dimming the lights, drinking herbal tea, putting my blackberry in the kitchen away from where I can easily grab it and check it, and I always shower, wash my hair and use lavender lotion on my skin at night. All of these things bring a sense of calm and help me relax. I also try to read every night instead of watching TV.
Some might say this routine is semi-high maintenance but it’s just that, a routine. Something that takes time to become a pattern but once you do it enough it eventually becomes a natural part of the way you do things and won’t feel like it takes any special effort to achieve.
It’s not easy but it’s worth it and has helped create a sense of balance I’m not sure that would have ever existed in any other way but through proper rest. Eight hours. It may seem a like a lot and although I’m the first to agree that we will have plenty of time to sleep when we’re dead I can guarantee that eight hours will take you a lot further along to your ending point than you’ll go if you skip it.
Signing off Well Rested,
Renee Brennan
After living with a mother that has struggled with narcolepsy and feelings of always being worn out or tired for twenty plus years and living twenty nine years of my own life I’ve finally figured it out and have found a way to keep my sleep balanced throughout the week which has resulted in less “crashing” and a better overall health. It use to be that I would get 6 or so hours, if that, some nights during the week and then on the rainy Saturday afternoons in my studio apartment I would sleep and sleep and sleep some more. I could sleep till noon if the shades were drawn and the ringer was off.
I’d wake up feeling worse than I did before I went to bed. Tired, fatigued and I lacked the energy to do basic things such as my Saturday morning workout and chores. I didn’t understand how I could still feel tired after getting twelve hour of sleep. After living like this for several years I finally experimented with all of the articles and advice I had read over the years and decided to incorporate a new lifestyle into my routine. I started by realizing one very important thing. I was no longer twenty-two. I needed sleep. Period. Eight solid hours is what I know my body needs to feel as close to chipper as humanly possible in the mornings and to stay that way throughout a long workday filled with meetings, workouts, dinners and various events.
If I could find a way to get my eight hours I could turn things around. And I did just that. I started focusing on a set bedtime which is now around 11:30pm and a set wake-up time around 7:30am, even on the weekends as painful as that sounds. Now I’ll be the first to admit, every rule is made to be broken and at times this doesn’t apply. I’d be lying to you and myself if I claimed that it did but the bottom line is that I try.
With that, I also know that my brain likes to pick up its activity levels in the wee hours of the evening so I have to force myself to shut down. Also, being that I live in a studio apartment I don’t have the luxury of having my bed in a quiet place away from the area in which I work and watch television. So I’m forced to get creative and I do this by lighting candles, dimming the lights, drinking herbal tea, putting my blackberry in the kitchen away from where I can easily grab it and check it, and I always shower, wash my hair and use lavender lotion on my skin at night. All of these things bring a sense of calm and help me relax. I also try to read every night instead of watching TV.
Some might say this routine is semi-high maintenance but it’s just that, a routine. Something that takes time to become a pattern but once you do it enough it eventually becomes a natural part of the way you do things and won’t feel like it takes any special effort to achieve.
It’s not easy but it’s worth it and has helped create a sense of balance I’m not sure that would have ever existed in any other way but through proper rest. Eight hours. It may seem a like a lot and although I’m the first to agree that we will have plenty of time to sleep when we’re dead I can guarantee that eight hours will take you a lot further along to your ending point than you’ll go if you skip it.
Signing off Well Rested,
Renee Brennan
Gassy.
Yea, you read the title correctly. Gassy. It’s what I am and as long as I can remember my friends and family always joke about how much gas I always have. I even got a bottle of Beano in my Christmas stocking one year as a genuine attempt to resolve my not-so-comfortable situation.
I’ve always chalked it up to a bad stomach or digestion problems that I’d always have and accepted myself for all that I was, gas or no gas. Over the last several years finding a good gastro doctor in Manhattan was on my to-do list but has always been left undone. That is until recently, when I noticed that I was feeling a lot more bloating and discomfort than what I had in the past. So I made it a priority to get a check up and get to the bottom of what was causing all this gas (ha, ok, pun intended).
Was it lactose intolerance? Was it a wheat allergy? Was it because I eat to fast? Drink too much red wine? What could it possibly be...?
Finally, I was determined to find out. I was referred to new internal medicine doctor, conveniently located on the Upper West Side near my apartment, by one of my co-workers. I couldn’t have been happier when I told him about my little situation and he referred me to his Guyanese buddy, a long time gastro specialist, also in another very good location near Columbus Circle. Side note: location is everything in New York so finding a doctor you can get in to over your lunch hour or on your way to work is uber important. Which is why I oftentimes find myself focusing on that over actual medical credentials at this point. Go figure.
I showed up for my appointment on time that Friday afternoon and was pleasantly surprised by the order and cleanliness of Dr. Seeoocmer’s office. I’ve had one too many gross-out situations in the city of dirty and there’s always a sense of comfort associated with tidy and clean, especially when it comes to someone providing me with healthcare. Dr. S welcomed me into his office for a consultation and started firing off the questions.
What does your normal diet look like? Oatmeal with flax and fruit or yogurt, granola and fruit for breakfast. So basically a high fiber dose to kick the day off. Coffee. Every morning. No matter what. Or a 1-pump vanilla latte from Starbucks if I feel like splurging. A boring salad, sandwich or soup from one of the stale options near my office for lunch. Sometimes I step it up and gorge myself on sushi. A mid-afternoon snack sometimes consisting of dried fruit, string cheese or a granola bar. And dinner... well that depends. It could range from a fresh cooked meal at home. Salmon, sauteed spinach, pasta or healthy pizza. Or it could be Chinese, Thai or Italian take-out on my lazier days. Or in the worst-case scenario, it’s a big night out at a fancy restaurant where I’m entertaining clients or celebrating life with my girlfriends and quite frankly I’m eating too much to keep track of.
And the questions continued...Do you have any family history of this or that? Are you allergic to anything? What medicines are you currently taking? And so on and so forth.
Twenty minutes later I was in love with this man, not only because he wasn’t very hard on the eyes, eh em, but he seemed to actually care about me and my gas. He backed up to the diet question as he took me into the exam room to do some blood work in an attempt to test for a possible wheat allergy. Who knew they could test for such a thing? Apparently it’s becoming much more popular so they are actively testing for this when patients come in complaining of stomach issues. He did some more digging, asking if I’ve always eaten breakfast. Yes, every day, never skip it. Then he asked if I always eat high fiber foods for breakfast. Yes, every day, never skip it. His eyes lit up as if he just discovered sliced bread and suggested that the fiber is what keeps me regular (which is not an area that I have issues with... every day at 10am, as if you cared to know) but might be the root of my digestion, or better known as “gas,” problems. He suggested that by eating a lot of fiber in the morning, it’s harder for my body to break it down, resulting in a gassy or bloaty feeling in the afternoon. Bingo.
So for the next few weeks until we have the blood test results back, and after completion of the lactose test next week, I was given an homework assignment of eating a protein-only diet in the morning. He warned that I would get hungrier sooner but that it could help increase positive digestion.
I suppose there is nothing to lose so I’m going to give his idea a whirl. And if this man just diagnosed my situation after 29 years of dealing with gas attacks I might just kiss him. Now we wait and see... I will report back in with the update on how this all pans out.
Here’s to the hopes of having a gas-free future!
Signing off Gas X’d,
Renee Brennan
I’ve always chalked it up to a bad stomach or digestion problems that I’d always have and accepted myself for all that I was, gas or no gas. Over the last several years finding a good gastro doctor in Manhattan was on my to-do list but has always been left undone. That is until recently, when I noticed that I was feeling a lot more bloating and discomfort than what I had in the past. So I made it a priority to get a check up and get to the bottom of what was causing all this gas (ha, ok, pun intended).
Was it lactose intolerance? Was it a wheat allergy? Was it because I eat to fast? Drink too much red wine? What could it possibly be...?
Finally, I was determined to find out. I was referred to new internal medicine doctor, conveniently located on the Upper West Side near my apartment, by one of my co-workers. I couldn’t have been happier when I told him about my little situation and he referred me to his Guyanese buddy, a long time gastro specialist, also in another very good location near Columbus Circle. Side note: location is everything in New York so finding a doctor you can get in to over your lunch hour or on your way to work is uber important. Which is why I oftentimes find myself focusing on that over actual medical credentials at this point. Go figure.
I showed up for my appointment on time that Friday afternoon and was pleasantly surprised by the order and cleanliness of Dr. Seeoocmer’s office. I’ve had one too many gross-out situations in the city of dirty and there’s always a sense of comfort associated with tidy and clean, especially when it comes to someone providing me with healthcare. Dr. S welcomed me into his office for a consultation and started firing off the questions.
What does your normal diet look like? Oatmeal with flax and fruit or yogurt, granola and fruit for breakfast. So basically a high fiber dose to kick the day off. Coffee. Every morning. No matter what. Or a 1-pump vanilla latte from Starbucks if I feel like splurging. A boring salad, sandwich or soup from one of the stale options near my office for lunch. Sometimes I step it up and gorge myself on sushi. A mid-afternoon snack sometimes consisting of dried fruit, string cheese or a granola bar. And dinner... well that depends. It could range from a fresh cooked meal at home. Salmon, sauteed spinach, pasta or healthy pizza. Or it could be Chinese, Thai or Italian take-out on my lazier days. Or in the worst-case scenario, it’s a big night out at a fancy restaurant where I’m entertaining clients or celebrating life with my girlfriends and quite frankly I’m eating too much to keep track of.
And the questions continued...Do you have any family history of this or that? Are you allergic to anything? What medicines are you currently taking? And so on and so forth.
Twenty minutes later I was in love with this man, not only because he wasn’t very hard on the eyes, eh em, but he seemed to actually care about me and my gas. He backed up to the diet question as he took me into the exam room to do some blood work in an attempt to test for a possible wheat allergy. Who knew they could test for such a thing? Apparently it’s becoming much more popular so they are actively testing for this when patients come in complaining of stomach issues. He did some more digging, asking if I’ve always eaten breakfast. Yes, every day, never skip it. Then he asked if I always eat high fiber foods for breakfast. Yes, every day, never skip it. His eyes lit up as if he just discovered sliced bread and suggested that the fiber is what keeps me regular (which is not an area that I have issues with... every day at 10am, as if you cared to know) but might be the root of my digestion, or better known as “gas,” problems. He suggested that by eating a lot of fiber in the morning, it’s harder for my body to break it down, resulting in a gassy or bloaty feeling in the afternoon. Bingo.
So for the next few weeks until we have the blood test results back, and after completion of the lactose test next week, I was given an homework assignment of eating a protein-only diet in the morning. He warned that I would get hungrier sooner but that it could help increase positive digestion.
I suppose there is nothing to lose so I’m going to give his idea a whirl. And if this man just diagnosed my situation after 29 years of dealing with gas attacks I might just kiss him. Now we wait and see... I will report back in with the update on how this all pans out.
Here’s to the hopes of having a gas-free future!
Signing off Gas X’d,
Renee Brennan
Just In Time.
A few weeks ago two of my girlfriends and I packed our bags and headed to Mexico. We all work together and we decided that following our sales conference in Arizona we would be smarter about our mandatory attendance in the west and build in a mini-vacay on the tail end of our trip, taking good advantage of our already paid for flights.
On Wednesday morning when the masses were returning to their respective hometowns we grabbed our continental breakfast goodies, shuttled to the airport and headed to Puerto Vallarta. Or so we thought. The excitement started the moment we were dropped off at the ticketing counter, the line approximately one hundred and twenty three people deep. I, unfortunately, was nursing a hangover due to the social events and flowing red wine of the night prior. Couple that with the fact that I’m not even close to being a morning person, and my panic-stricken mood quickly set in.
You see, I’ve flown in and out of the Phoenix airport all too many times and am fond of all of the airport security rules that go along with a successful departure. As far as I was concerned all I could see from my negative mindset was that we were behind far too many people to get our names into the system and bags checked before the non-negotiable 60 minute deadline to make our scheduled flight. So for the next twenty minutes all I could focus on was the missed flight that was surely in our future, which would ultimately result in the late arrival to our long anticipated vitamin D session and icy margaritas.
As I worked the nerves of my travel mates Polly and Leeann and most likely every other person around us, we neared the kiosks. One at a time we stepped up swiping our credit cards, confirming our identity and choosing the number of bags to check. Polly was in, success. Leeann, confirmed. And me, well, of course... the damn machine kicked back with a rejection and proclaimed that I had missed the baggage check deadline. Of course I did! And I was sure I was being punished for my bad attitude.
Now I was really livid yelling at the innocent US Airways (worst airline ever) workers demanding that they must get me on the flight that my two friends had just been confirmed for! Ugh, how could this be? Just perfect, I thought. Leeann and Polly would be sitting comfortably on our regularly scheduled flight, taxiing to the hacienda I had booked for us on the beach in Conchas Chinas then finding themselves horizontally soaking up the sun while I was stuck in the airport waiting on the next flight out. At the point when smoke was emitting from my ears, the gate agent went over to my friends and told them that they would need to calm me down.
Calm wasn’t in my vocabulary and wasn’t about to be until I was on the flight I was scheduled for. Polly and Leeann pleaded and begged the agent to try to get me on the flight and after some overly polite exchange they were able to wiggle me on. Boarding card printed, baggage checked. Go!!!
We ran to the security line as quickly as we could only to find ourselves in the same situation that we had just endured. Another line... a million and a half miles long. Now we were really screwed. All of that trouble getting us all confirmed for a flight that we were still going to miss. The roped off line winded around ten times and created a Disney-Land-at-peak-season type of dreadful situation. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. We shuffled our feet and our bags forward for what felt like an hour while phone calls were being made to loved ones to provide warnings that flights would be missed and a change of plans would need to be accommodated. I watched the clock knowing we were out of luck...only 15 minutes before the plane would take off without us. Hot guy next to us was small talking which was keeping me halfway sane as we neared the front of the line, but I still lacked confidence.
Finally all three IDs were checked. Shoes were off and we were down to our tank tops and rolled up jeans. Our laptops flew out of our bags and clattered as they hit the plastic bins. One, two, three....we all slid successfully through security. We grabbed our things in a hurried mess, didn’t waste time putting our shoes on or the articles of clothing we had shed and made a mad dash for the gate, which of course, was the last one at the end of the longest concourse ever.
Oh my God, my feet were bleeding as they pounded the electric sidewalk. Note to self, never run barefoot, even if you are from West Virginia, on one of those things... it’s like knives. As the heart attack I was about to have set in, we finally neared the gate.... seven minutes and counting. We waved our hands and yelled, “we’re coming!...we’re here don’t shut the gate! please! wait for us!”... it was a miracle in the desert. All three of us had finally made it to the finish line and successfully boarded our flight, despite the trials and tribulations.
We found our seats in a heated pant and thanked God for the work in which he had done for us that day. I’m still learning this lesson, but will say sometimes it pays off to have a little faith in the system and to relax even when things are clearly not going your way. I could have saved myself high blood pressure, a panic attack and a stress-induced hangover if I would have just let the world do what it does on its own.
Bottom line. We made it. But next time I’m getting to the airport earlier in hopes of avoiding the rage that comes along with traveling.
Signing off Just in Time,
Renee Brennan
On Wednesday morning when the masses were returning to their respective hometowns we grabbed our continental breakfast goodies, shuttled to the airport and headed to Puerto Vallarta. Or so we thought. The excitement started the moment we were dropped off at the ticketing counter, the line approximately one hundred and twenty three people deep. I, unfortunately, was nursing a hangover due to the social events and flowing red wine of the night prior. Couple that with the fact that I’m not even close to being a morning person, and my panic-stricken mood quickly set in.
You see, I’ve flown in and out of the Phoenix airport all too many times and am fond of all of the airport security rules that go along with a successful departure. As far as I was concerned all I could see from my negative mindset was that we were behind far too many people to get our names into the system and bags checked before the non-negotiable 60 minute deadline to make our scheduled flight. So for the next twenty minutes all I could focus on was the missed flight that was surely in our future, which would ultimately result in the late arrival to our long anticipated vitamin D session and icy margaritas.
As I worked the nerves of my travel mates Polly and Leeann and most likely every other person around us, we neared the kiosks. One at a time we stepped up swiping our credit cards, confirming our identity and choosing the number of bags to check. Polly was in, success. Leeann, confirmed. And me, well, of course... the damn machine kicked back with a rejection and proclaimed that I had missed the baggage check deadline. Of course I did! And I was sure I was being punished for my bad attitude.
Now I was really livid yelling at the innocent US Airways (worst airline ever) workers demanding that they must get me on the flight that my two friends had just been confirmed for! Ugh, how could this be? Just perfect, I thought. Leeann and Polly would be sitting comfortably on our regularly scheduled flight, taxiing to the hacienda I had booked for us on the beach in Conchas Chinas then finding themselves horizontally soaking up the sun while I was stuck in the airport waiting on the next flight out. At the point when smoke was emitting from my ears, the gate agent went over to my friends and told them that they would need to calm me down.
Calm wasn’t in my vocabulary and wasn’t about to be until I was on the flight I was scheduled for. Polly and Leeann pleaded and begged the agent to try to get me on the flight and after some overly polite exchange they were able to wiggle me on. Boarding card printed, baggage checked. Go!!!
We ran to the security line as quickly as we could only to find ourselves in the same situation that we had just endured. Another line... a million and a half miles long. Now we were really screwed. All of that trouble getting us all confirmed for a flight that we were still going to miss. The roped off line winded around ten times and created a Disney-Land-at-peak-season type of dreadful situation. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. We shuffled our feet and our bags forward for what felt like an hour while phone calls were being made to loved ones to provide warnings that flights would be missed and a change of plans would need to be accommodated. I watched the clock knowing we were out of luck...only 15 minutes before the plane would take off without us. Hot guy next to us was small talking which was keeping me halfway sane as we neared the front of the line, but I still lacked confidence.
Finally all three IDs were checked. Shoes were off and we were down to our tank tops and rolled up jeans. Our laptops flew out of our bags and clattered as they hit the plastic bins. One, two, three....we all slid successfully through security. We grabbed our things in a hurried mess, didn’t waste time putting our shoes on or the articles of clothing we had shed and made a mad dash for the gate, which of course, was the last one at the end of the longest concourse ever.
Oh my God, my feet were bleeding as they pounded the electric sidewalk. Note to self, never run barefoot, even if you are from West Virginia, on one of those things... it’s like knives. As the heart attack I was about to have set in, we finally neared the gate.... seven minutes and counting. We waved our hands and yelled, “we’re coming!...we’re here don’t shut the gate! please! wait for us!”... it was a miracle in the desert. All three of us had finally made it to the finish line and successfully boarded our flight, despite the trials and tribulations.
We found our seats in a heated pant and thanked God for the work in which he had done for us that day. I’m still learning this lesson, but will say sometimes it pays off to have a little faith in the system and to relax even when things are clearly not going your way. I could have saved myself high blood pressure, a panic attack and a stress-induced hangover if I would have just let the world do what it does on its own.
Bottom line. We made it. But next time I’m getting to the airport earlier in hopes of avoiding the rage that comes along with traveling.
Signing off Just in Time,
Renee Brennan
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sooner or Later.
Sooner or later we lose the things in life that we love.
So why not live every moment like it's our last? I know, I know, easier said than done. But it's true. It's not often that I am truly moved and when I met my friend and neighbor from South Africa last year he taught me a valuable lesson.
You see, he's here in America working hard and making a name for himself but sooner or later the likelihood of him returning to his homeland is high. But that doesn't stop him from living each day like it matters and loving as if tomorrow will never come. I was always confused when I would hear him talk about his mates that were headed back home in a few months yet they continued to date the significant other they were involved with as if it was headed somewhere. I just couldn't comprehend. Why on earth would either person want to stay involved in something they knew would come to an end?
Stop. Wait. Did you hear what I just said?
Come to an end.
How shallow of me. For all we know, everything is coming to and end sooner or later. So what makes these situations any different? I admire their outlook on life. How they live as if today were the best day of their lives and as if tomorrow is the devil and might not come around.
There's really something to be said about just being. Being in the situation you're in and being at peace with it. Knowing that a lot in this world is completely out of our control and basically just enjoying ourselves taking only what we need from the moment to make it memorable for years to come.
Sooner or Later. It will all end. So here's for the today we're loving, the tomorrow we don't know and the yesterday that will soon be forgotten. Here is to the moment I promise to be in right now.
Signing off Right. Here. Right. Now.
Renee Brennan
So why not live every moment like it's our last? I know, I know, easier said than done. But it's true. It's not often that I am truly moved and when I met my friend and neighbor from South Africa last year he taught me a valuable lesson.
You see, he's here in America working hard and making a name for himself but sooner or later the likelihood of him returning to his homeland is high. But that doesn't stop him from living each day like it matters and loving as if tomorrow will never come. I was always confused when I would hear him talk about his mates that were headed back home in a few months yet they continued to date the significant other they were involved with as if it was headed somewhere. I just couldn't comprehend. Why on earth would either person want to stay involved in something they knew would come to an end?
Stop. Wait. Did you hear what I just said?
Come to an end.
How shallow of me. For all we know, everything is coming to and end sooner or later. So what makes these situations any different? I admire their outlook on life. How they live as if today were the best day of their lives and as if tomorrow is the devil and might not come around.
There's really something to be said about just being. Being in the situation you're in and being at peace with it. Knowing that a lot in this world is completely out of our control and basically just enjoying ourselves taking only what we need from the moment to make it memorable for years to come.
Sooner or Later. It will all end. So here's for the today we're loving, the tomorrow we don't know and the yesterday that will soon be forgotten. Here is to the moment I promise to be in right now.
Signing off Right. Here. Right. Now.
Renee Brennan
I Want What I Have.
When we're living in a world that's always boasting of something bigger, better, smarter or faster, looking for the next best thing can leave us feeling unfulfilled, empty and lost. Now, please let me put a disclaimer on this. I am in no way claiming that I am the person that has found perfect harmony and balance in all that I have but I do strive to enjoy the things that surround me instead of always thinking the grass is greener on the other side.
I pronounce this to my friends often...this philosophy about our fast-paced world and that no matter how hard we try, we'll never really be able to quite keep up with it. So, learning to love ourselves for all that we do possess - be they material possessions, physical health & well being, or the intangible - is a much better way to find happiness in our lives.
I was moved to share this state of mind with you when I read the Mantra of the Month in Aprils issue of Shape on page 32. I could relate and thought it was brilliantly put. And to quote, "I agree that it's only human of us to want more friends, better clothes and more money." All very important and a real part of our lives. But sometimes I truly get worn down by my rapidly growing list of self improvements and must haves... the latest iphone or technology, another pair of pumps in a different color, a new bathing suit to add to the already very large collection of suits I have just because I'm sick of my options, always feeling the need to try a new restaurant instead of counting on the tried and true spots that I love.
I encourage you to try to focus on what you do have. Go shopping in your own closet, clean out your makeup bag, go digging through some old pictures to remind yourself of all of the great memories you have to be proud of, re-read your journal to reminisce about all of the amazing experiences that you've created for yourself. Focus on your positive physical traits instead of always focusing on the cellulite that you'll probably never work off because its hereditary or look at your hair from another angle and try wearing it a slightly different way, maybe part it on the opposite side or braid it.
You get it...let's refocus on us. Just the way we are.
Signing off Loving Me The Way I Am,
Renee Brennan
I pronounce this to my friends often...this philosophy about our fast-paced world and that no matter how hard we try, we'll never really be able to quite keep up with it. So, learning to love ourselves for all that we do possess - be they material possessions, physical health & well being, or the intangible - is a much better way to find happiness in our lives.
I was moved to share this state of mind with you when I read the Mantra of the Month in Aprils issue of Shape on page 32. I could relate and thought it was brilliantly put. And to quote, "I agree that it's only human of us to want more friends, better clothes and more money." All very important and a real part of our lives. But sometimes I truly get worn down by my rapidly growing list of self improvements and must haves... the latest iphone or technology, another pair of pumps in a different color, a new bathing suit to add to the already very large collection of suits I have just because I'm sick of my options, always feeling the need to try a new restaurant instead of counting on the tried and true spots that I love.
I encourage you to try to focus on what you do have. Go shopping in your own closet, clean out your makeup bag, go digging through some old pictures to remind yourself of all of the great memories you have to be proud of, re-read your journal to reminisce about all of the amazing experiences that you've created for yourself. Focus on your positive physical traits instead of always focusing on the cellulite that you'll probably never work off because its hereditary or look at your hair from another angle and try wearing it a slightly different way, maybe part it on the opposite side or braid it.
You get it...let's refocus on us. Just the way we are.
Signing off Loving Me The Way I Am,
Renee Brennan
A Little Pep In My Step.
I am a subscriber to a lot of things. Magazines just being one of them. Speaking of, I am also the queen of reading a magazine from cover to cover, flagging pages along the way by bending down the corners to make it easy to go back and reference that oh-so-important content that I didn't want to forget.
Sometimes I rip pages of magazines out and add them to my "inspirational" folder. These pages might feature an idea, a thought provoking sentence or phrase, a new way of pairing a glitter shirt with jeans making it a little less glam, a new eye cream to try out, tennis shoes to buy, or an event to attend.
You get the point. And I'm guessing you can relate to this type of behavior...you know, the high hopes of adding a new perspective or point of view into your life. A new addition to your wardrobe or a new product to your skin care regimen - the aspirational road to your best self.
However, best intentions aside, most of the time the bookmarked or torn out pages get noticed during that initial read and then are eventually forgotten over time. But this month I actually took action on one of the articles I read and incorporated the tips into my life.
"Walk This Way" was an article featured in the April edition of Shape. Some of you may recall that Marisa Stephenson, the writer, offered us a new strategy of how to give our walking exercise a little kick, resulting in higher calorie loss and increased sculpting benefits.
As cheesy as it sounds I took my magazine along with me to the gym, opened it up to page 184 and followed along as I was instructed to use three different levels of intensity on my 30 minute treadmill journey. And please let me attest to how pleasantly surprised I was to a) be sweating for the first time on a treadmill, b) find myself practically panting and c) watching time fly as my mind was engaged instead of being in its usual la-la count down land.
Long story short, sometimes all we need to do is kick things up a notch. We don't always have the strength to do it on our own so why not let someone else help us? Just by changing the levels of intensity on the treadmill settings, I gave myself a satisfying workout and felt more accomplished via the information that I had flagged and finally put to use.
So the next time you find something in one of your magazines that sounds like it could enhance your life, give it a try. Why not, what do you have to lose?
Signing off Peppier,
Renee Brennan
Sometimes I rip pages of magazines out and add them to my "inspirational" folder. These pages might feature an idea, a thought provoking sentence or phrase, a new way of pairing a glitter shirt with jeans making it a little less glam, a new eye cream to try out, tennis shoes to buy, or an event to attend.
You get the point. And I'm guessing you can relate to this type of behavior...you know, the high hopes of adding a new perspective or point of view into your life. A new addition to your wardrobe or a new product to your skin care regimen - the aspirational road to your best self.
However, best intentions aside, most of the time the bookmarked or torn out pages get noticed during that initial read and then are eventually forgotten over time. But this month I actually took action on one of the articles I read and incorporated the tips into my life.
"Walk This Way" was an article featured in the April edition of Shape. Some of you may recall that Marisa Stephenson, the writer, offered us a new strategy of how to give our walking exercise a little kick, resulting in higher calorie loss and increased sculpting benefits.
As cheesy as it sounds I took my magazine along with me to the gym, opened it up to page 184 and followed along as I was instructed to use three different levels of intensity on my 30 minute treadmill journey. And please let me attest to how pleasantly surprised I was to a) be sweating for the first time on a treadmill, b) find myself practically panting and c) watching time fly as my mind was engaged instead of being in its usual la-la count down land.
Long story short, sometimes all we need to do is kick things up a notch. We don't always have the strength to do it on our own so why not let someone else help us? Just by changing the levels of intensity on the treadmill settings, I gave myself a satisfying workout and felt more accomplished via the information that I had flagged and finally put to use.
So the next time you find something in one of your magazines that sounds like it could enhance your life, give it a try. Why not, what do you have to lose?
Signing off Peppier,
Renee Brennan
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