Bob Harper and Me

When I first started teaching full time, one of my students asked me how old I was. Everyone in the class, wide-eyed, stared at him like he was insane. Someone whispered, “Dude, you don’t ask ladies that question.” I didn’t want to answer him, not because I was afraid of sounding old, but because I knew that some of my students were older than me, so I did something I don’t recommend doing if you are sensitive about your age. I told them to guess.

“45?” one of the young women ventured.

“You’re a little off,” I said. I was 26.

“Well, that’s mainly based on how you dress.”

“Let’s move on,” I said, making a mental note to never again let college freshmen guess my age.

How, I wonder, did we become this way. Why are we so weird about our age, amongst other things? Why do we act as though some of us are immune to the passing of time? At 33, I have many students who hover around my age. They bemoan their age, as do, I’ve noticed, students in their mid- to late-twenties, as if there exists some phenomenal difference. Not surprisingly this is mostly from my female students. “I’m so old,” they’ll whimper to me, head in their hands.

“We’re the same age,” I’ll say.

I know what they mean, though: they are “old” for college. This is becoming increasingly less true, but that statistic is not of much interest to them, and I don’t blame them.

We put women in a weird place with age. Duh. Taught to hide our age to remain desirable, yet we ceaselessly mock women who are very clearly trying to mask their age with make-up and surgery. See just about every famous woman ever as an example.

It’s not just age, either, for which we are supposed to feel shame. We aren’t supposed to share our weight, and certainly not our BMI. I had a baby 7 months ago, and let me tell you, my hips do not lie about that. 

Enter Bob Harper.

Bob Harper is my new favorite celebrity trainer. You may have seen him and his sleeve tattoos on The Biggest Loser, a show that borders on voyeuristic. His workouts are the only ones I’ve ever done that, as I described to my sister Rachel, make it look like my whole body is crying because I am sweating so much. It is awful, but it is exactly what I needed, because I saw myself becoming a certain type of person: the person that slowly puts on weight, year after year, convincing herself it’s not that bad, even though she keeps having to buy bigger pants sizes, but she says stuff like, “well, I work out, so I’m probably just putting on muscle…”

I had faithfully been going to the gym 5 days a week for 35 minute workouts, but I wasn’t really working out. I was leisurely riding the stationary bike, listening to poetry podcasts, scrolling through Instagram. I didn’t even get a towel from the front desk to wipe off my sweat, but that’s because I was barely sweating. 

Now I hang out with Bob Harper five days a week from the comfort of my living room doing his ridiculously named workout, Blackfire, while Mae laughs hysterically at me. Watching me do burpees is, I have no doubt, hilarious. This workout is great for me for many reasons. 1.) Little to no equipment required. 2.) $12 a month. 3.) Lots of variation. 4.) Indescribably difficult. 5.) All online so no DVD. 

I’ve been doing it for barely a month and I feel like a triathlete. Like, I want to start an Instragram account for my shoulders. After each workout, I feel unstoppable. 

I weigh 155 pounds. If I knew my BMI, I would tell you that as well. Why does this feel ballsy for me to say? Why do I feel like I could end up on Good Morning America for saying that? “Oklahoma Mom Reveals Weight on Blog, Not Sure About BMI.” 

       Starting a workout is terrible. Especially if you are a woman, it takes awhile to see results, but just hold on, it will happen. I also don’t recommend weighing yourself. (I actually asked Todd to hide our scale from me so I can’t weigh myself. If you saw how small our apartment is, you would realize how amusing this is.) If you’re like me, you need someone to get in your face, which is why I like Bob Harper. No, I love Bob Harper. I like to tell my students I’m the Bob Harper of Freshman Composition. Then they stare at me silently. Reminding me of my favorite student evaluation comment ever: Her jokes aren’t that funny. And, yes, the word “that” was underlined.

Worrying About Money: I'm Over It

I hope everyone had a great Valentine’s Day. To celebrate, Mae and I went to Target. (In Oklahoma, with a baby, this is a big deal. I prepped for this 2-hour roundtrip the way others might get ready for an international trip.) Plans to visit The Botanical Gardens were thwarted because one of us is teething and got a little screamy. Todd was sick so he stayed in. Later, he ordered a pair of headphones off Amazon and I ordered this mug for myself. 

That’s how we do Valentine’s Day. See previous blog for information regarding how romantic I am. 

We decided on a $25 limit for ordering our own gifts for ourselves, but, really, who cares. Now that we have a baby, there are so many things I don’t think about anymore, and one of them, strangely, is money.

To be clear, we are not drenched in wealth. We are living off one salary and while I love my job, composition instructors are not known for their paychecks. Ever since I had what me and Todd refer to as Ginger Cancer (because it’s way more fun to say that instead of melanoma) money issues appear refreshingly mundane. My motto became, “If no one is dying, it doesn’t matter.” 

Yes, I know. Not a unique story. Redhead Has Cancerous Mole Removed, Develops New Outlook on Life. But I don’t care. Hopefully you never get told, or never have been told, that you have A Scary Disease. Here are my other tips on how to not worry about money.

1.) Remind Yourself Money is Radically Uninteresting

Seemingly everyone, understandably, frets about money, even those who “appear” to be doing just fine, which is another reason I told myself I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Have you ever had an interesting conversation about your finances? If you have, you and I will just agree we have different definitions of “interesting.” This is probably already true because my interests are rather David Sedaris-y, you know, like collecting coffee mugs that say “motherfucker” and flipping through vintage animal encyclopedias. The only time these conversations have been even slightly interesting are when I have a gift card somewhere and I’m talking out how I want to spend it. Like if I’m at Home Depot, for example, do I want to buy all Venus flytraps or just get one fog machine?

2.) No one ever says “I have the perfect amount of money and I will now be totally cool with that.”

Right? No one says that. Everyone is worried about paying their rent. Everyone is convinced their _______ bill is way too high and they are probably getting ripped off. Therefore, since we all think this way, who cares. As a side note, I am routinely perplexed by individuals bent on sharing their stories of Sticking It To The Man In The Form Of An Obscure Financial Loophole They and Only They Are Aware Of. You know this person. This person is in your life. They probably have one of those three-ring binders for their extreme couponing habit.

3.) You made it this far. You’ll probably be fine.

One day Todd sent me a text with a quote from one of his favorite philosophers, Hoda Kotb. It was, “Someone is happier with less than you have.” 

4.) Make a budget

Haha! Just kidding. Who has time to do that? I tried to once about eight years because I read about it in a magazine. I made it four minutes before I got bored and went back to watering my plants. One way I practice fiscal responsibility is shirking a large portion of what ladies are supposed to do. Being a lady is expensive, and I’m not okay with that. Do you know how much you can use baking soda for? Face wash, teeth whitener, homemade deodorant ingrediant, cleaning product, etc. The list is extensive, and a large box of baking soda costs three dollars. And while I actually think make-up is really beautiful and I enjoy perusing make-up aisles like I’m at a special exhibit in a museum, I don’t wear it because it pisses me off and I fundamentally disagree with the cruel circle it puts you in, forcing you to buy make-up removing towelettes, blah, blah, blah. I may not like talking about finances, but I love talking about baking soda. Don’t even get me started on DIY laundry detergent. 

5.) Prioritize

You know what, if money makes you happy, that’s great. It doesn’t make me happy. It actually makes me nervous. I value my time over money, and that’s why we have an extensive array of Ramen in our kitchen. Even when it comes to making grand purchases, like cars, I do not believe in research. I do not believe in Consumer Reports. I’ll take my chances with that vaccuum cleaner. I lack the patience. I don’t see the point. I’d rather do something else with my time. I’ve bought three cars in my life, and each time I went to one dealership, test drove one car, and then bought it. I’m either really lucky or the world’s most uninvolved motorist. Probably a mixture of both. I practiced the same tactic when I applied to college, named my child, and chose all of my doctors. So far it has worked great. If it ever has backfired, I don’t remember, probably because I don’t care and I’m glad I didn’t waste a lot of time thinking about it.