The skin I'm in.

Rock-climbing.
Gymnastics.
Back-to-back SOAR days.
Wakeboarding.
Lacrosse.
Snowboarding.
Dance parties.
Basketball.
Ballet.
Ragnar.
Cliff jumping.
13-hour serving shifts.

These are just a few of the things my body allows me to do--and I'm sure there's a thousand others we're able to do I haven't even tried yet.
That's why it doesn't make sense to hate on the skin you're in.

My body may not be capable of making a three-point shot, scoring a field goal, or climbing Mt. Everest--but it can do a whole lot. And I'm grateful for it everyday.

Today is National Love Your Body Day.

I think it's time we all took a second and appreciated what we have--instead of focusing on what we don't.
Remember this post?  Still true.
When I was in junior high and high school, I watched multiple friends struggle with various eating disorders--and it wasn't fun.
It's hard to watch someone you care about become completely dissatisfied with themselves and not be able to do a thing about it.
I have four little sisters, and I don't want any of them to have to deal with that.

We live in a very material world; where image is everything and possessions reign supreme.
We spend a lot of time comparing what we have and who we are to other people, and that's not fair.

Society has warped and twisted the way girls see themselves, and I think it's important that we make an effort to change that. 

Not everyone can be super-model tall, with a Barbie's figure, crystal blue eyes and blonde hair. 

Not everyone is a size 0, has perfectly shaped eyebrows, or Angelina Jolie lips. 

Not everyone wears designer clothing, can walk in high heels like a pro, or pull off the latest fashion trends. 

I'm never going to be six feet tall or wear anything labeled "extra small."

I'm never going to rock a leather mini skirt, or have the bright green eyes I long for. 

I don't have perfectly defined cheek bones or a perfect "bikini body."

But that's okay. 

I love the fact that my hair has a crazy kind of curl to it. 

I love that my eyelashes are almost as thick as my little brothers. 

I love that I don't have to wear heels to be average height.

I love that I can run Ragnar and hold my own on a snowboard.

I love the body I have--and everything I'm able to do with it. 

The beauty of being a girl is that you're never going to be exactly the same as somebody else, no matter how hard you try. Accept that. 

Because if we're being honest, it's hard to be happy when someone is being mean to you all the time. 

Become your own biggest fan. 

Learn to love the skin you're in, be nice to yourself & love your body; because it does a lot for you.

Falling in love.

I came across a blog post yesterday that I loved.

The world is a confused place, if people are honestly criticizing her body immediately after having a baby. 

Society is out of check with reality. Tina Fey said it best:

"...every girl is expected to have: Caucasian blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, and the arms of Michelle Obama."

With a standard like that being placed on every girl, it's nearly impossible to not compare yourself to others. 

I wish my hair was as pretty as her's, I wish I could pull off her outfit, I wish my eyes were her color of blue, I wish my legs were as long as hers...

The list goes on and on. 

We're so worried about what other girls think about us, and so concerned with making the boys fall in love with us that we forget to love ourselves first. 

One of my best friends would always tell me, "I love you, but I loved your confidence first." 

Don't get me wrong, I have just as many insecurities as the next girl. 

I refuse to leave the house without mascara on. 

My hair is naturally curly...and no one ever sees it. 

Pink washes me out like no other color on the planet. 

I can't wear some dresses because I just don't fill them out. 

Hats have never looked good on me. 

But, I've learned to be OK with all that. 

I'm perfectly comfortable with the person that I am, regardless of what the world says. 

One of my favorite quotes says, "You are not your bra size, nor are you the width of your waist, nor are you the slenderness of your calves. You are not your hair color, your skin color, nor are you a shade of lipstick. Your shoe-size is of no consequence. You are not defined by the amount of attention you get from males, females, or any combination thereof. You are not the number of sit-ups you can do, nor are you the number of calories in a day. You are not your mustache. You are not the hair on your legs. You are not a little red dress. You are no amalgam of these things. You are the content of your character. You are the ambitions that drive you. You are the goals that you set. You are the things that you laugh at and the words that you say. You are the thoughts you think and the things you wonder. You are beautiful and desirable not for the clique you attend, but for the spark of life within you that compels you to make your a full and meaningful one. You are beautiful not for the shape of the vessel, but for the volume of the soul it carries." 

In a world where celebrities create our own self image, it's tough to be a girl. 

If we live by the world's standards, we will never be skinny enough, tall enough, blonde enough, or curvy enough. We'll never wear exactly the right clothes, or do our make up exactly like we're supposed to. 

Learn to love yourself, rather than the person you think you need to be. 

Enjoy your smile.

Be content with your dress size.

Learn to accept the reality of your eye color.

Fall in love with yourself, your body, and the person you're becoming.  

I think the most important thing a girl can do for herself is to care more about how she thinks of herself than she cares about how others think about her. 

Other people criticize us enough--we have to be our own biggest fans. 

"There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty."

 -Steve Maraboli

It's really a laughing matter.

aHem. Hmmm. aHEEmm. 

I apologize. I just have an important--and rather terrifying--announcement. Not that a whole lot of people read this and/or care, but as of Thursday afternoon, I will no longer be a full on brunette. [cue gasps and blonde jokes now.]

We're going for a little bit of this, mixed with a bit more blonde. Natural is a scary place to be, my friends, but here we go again. Also, so much for long lush locks. A couple inches past my shoulders and loads of layers is what I'm thinking. After all, I'm making about as many big changes in the next few weeks as I can handle...why not throw a vain change in there along with it?

I only have seven shifts left at work, and I didn't realize how weird that was until I realized that that means I only have three more nights of silverware rolling, two more batches of salsa to make, and seven more days to see all my favorite regulars. The very first couple I ever served came in today, and I laughed at how much things have changed in 10 months. I was terrified of this lady the first time, because she was all upset I didn't know she never drank the water and always ordered the same thing. Tonight though, I saw their car pull up in the far side of the parking lot and had their order sent before they even walked in. Old habits die hard, and that makes my job so much easier. I have a job interview up in Logan on Monday, and I'm super excited. Also terrified. Because that means a whole new set of reputations to build, new people to meet, and new jobs to learn. Oh well. C'est la vie. 

The Olympics are on right now too, and if cheering for hundreds of world class athletes from the USA doesn't make you proud to be an American, you have no heart. The women's gymnastics team took gold today, and Michael Phelps won his 19th Olympic Gold. Crazy, how these athletes are known world-wide...and most of them are barely past their 20's. Makes you wonder what you're doing with your life, doesn't it? 

One last thing...if anyone has any extra tickets to Wicked that they'd like to get off their hands, I'd do it willingly. Just saying. 

It's all a little underwhelming.

While I was laying Mary--Baby Rapunzel--down for a nap today, my Utah State planner fell off my desk. Serving as a not so nice reminder that not only do I only have six weeks left here, but I only have SIX WEEKS LEFT HERE. I freaked, just a little. Hmmmm. [deep breaths. in. out. in. out.] It's kind of like one of those moments where you just keep thinking, "This can't be happening. There's no way this is happening. This is really happening."
Let's just say it's a very good thing that a vast majority of my best friends are moving up with me, or else I'd be in trouble. But Hailee, Morgan, and Maddy aren't. And I'm a little distraught about this whole thing.
While I'm all overwhelmed and stressed and such, I'm still not quite sure what's going on. Girls' Camp is this weekend, and it still hasn't quite hit me that this is the last time I get to go. I have an assignment due for my first class on the 22nd, and I'm not even thinking about starting it yet. I'm still 17 people, I'm still a child. And yet...I'm not. It's mind blowing, really.
In other news, I'm bored with my mane again. Like seriously contemplating some new ideas. Any suggestions? They'd be much appreciated. I'm thinking new hair will count for a lot of the 18 TIL 18 BABY countdown....yes. Yes, it will.

I really, really, really like this one, but I don't know if I have the guts. Do I go lighter again? Cut some of it off? Or keep it the same? Let your ideas flow kids, because I'm up for anything. 

Also, I've got to start packing up my life soon...and I want your thoughts on what's essential. Any of you stayed in Logan? Fill a girl in, would you? Any thing you wish you'd had your first year of college? Let me know. Comment here, tweet me, or FB me kids, because this is a whole new road for most of us, and we need all the help we can get. 

Third time's the charm.

Life has been a tiny bit crazy lately. Between work, and attempting to find another job, and who knows what else, this little baby got sort of neglected. 

Last weekend, I ran my third Ragnar Relay--the Wasatch Back. 200ish miles of running, between 12 people, from Logan to Park City. Sounds fun, right? But really, it's a blast. However, I  would recommend training to those of you who were interested. Because it HURT. 

 This is our team, "The Cat in the Hat Bunch" at the finish line. Our shirts say "Thing [1-12]". We're cool.

My dad sent me a note after finishing, which basically put into words what had been running through my head every year we've done this.

"To many, running a Ragnar is a silly, crazy endeavor - they think it is a waste of time and energy.   We dress up in costumes and have a moving slumber party for 2 days - how stupid.  They think that Ragnar is about running.  Those who have done it know the truth.  That it was somewhere on that road that we came to understand who we are and what we are capable of.  Before we did it the first time, we were afraid we would fail.  We worried that we would ask the hard question of ourselves and be found lacking.  We are now the lucky ones - we know.  We asked the hardest questions - "Am I a quitter?", "Can I do this?"; and we got the answer that we wanted.   We are the ones who know." 

It may sound silly to get sentimental about a 200 mile relay, but it's true. Because of this race, I've been pushed to places I never thought I'd go, and gone harder and farther than I ever would have otherwise. I've climbed impossible mountains, run through terrifying--to me, at least--trails, and kept going even when it seemed like the goal would never be within reach.

I kept going, and I'm no quitter.

Summertime, swimtime.

So I entered a giveaway for a Lime Ricki swimsuit via Pink Peonies. If you haven't checked out either of their sites, you definitely should, because they're great. Lime Ricki is a swimsuit company that makes modest--and super adorable--swimsuits for us girls that are interested in modesty and high fashion. They're adorable, and also affordable, unlike some of the other companies out there. Check them out here. And enter the giveaway if you want! It's worth a shot, huh?

All dressed up, nowhere to go.

It's been one of those weekends, where I'm craving something that I can't figure out. There's something out there I need to do, but I just can't decide what that is.
So. Rather than hurt my brain trying to find the reason, I resorted to hair dye again. Tomorrow evening...this lion's mane of hair will be new again. And really, I think I need to find a recovery group because this is getting out of hand. I guess there are worse things I could be doing, but all this dye is getting to my head. (Just kidding. But it does make me wish I had a cosmetologists' license. Really bad.)
Issue numero dos. Ragnar is in less than three weeks, and my legs total 19.8 miles. My longest leg is 7.3 miles, and I can't remember the last time I ran more than 5 consecutive miles--not counting last year's relay. Whoops. So starting June 2nd, you better believe this girl will be running her butt off, quite literally. Hopefully, I'll get some kind of tan in the process. Because swimsuits are no fun when you glow.

In other news, I have the greatest family on the planet. My grandpa owns a time share at the Marriott Mountainside Resort in Park City, and has his week the last week of June. Conveniently, nobody wanted it the last three days. Equally as convenient, Emi's 18th birthday is that Friday, and so we get three of the rooms for a fabulous 18th birthday retreat. My aunt and uncle agreed to play chaperone, so for two days and nights, us girls and the boys we decide we want there get to swim, eat, shop, and slide to our heart's content. It's kind of our last hurrah before everyone moves. And I'm so excited it isn't even funny. Another sign you're growing up? Your parents agree to let boys come on the trip with barely a moments thought. (Thanks Clint and Carrie for chaperoning.:))

I graduate in roughly 90 hours. And if that isn't the weirdest statement I have ever uttered, I don't know what is. It's finally coming. However, I have yet to find a dress. We'll work on that once the hair is done.

Really though, who can say.

Everything is winding down, but I still feel like I have way too much on my plate. Between school, work, YW, youth court, and attempting to maintain some kind of social life while keeping up with my family, I have no time for anything...while still doing everything. It's puzzling, really.
I found a dress for cotillion, (it pays to have an uncle who is dating a girl who wears the same size as you do. WINNING.) but now I've gotta find some fantastic shoes to go with it.
I'm in the home stretch for AP classes, but now I've got to finish Financial Lit. and pass Fit for Life.
Life is a whole bunch of "this, but this," statements, and it's starting to drive me crazy. Welp.

In other news, I have to teach the combined YW lesson this Sunday on the importance of temple marriage and dating for the temple. Somehow, our Heavenly Father has these odd little ways of teaching you what you need to hear by making you prepare it for others. I also have to speak at seminary graduation about how seminary has impacted my testimony of the Savior. Needless to say, I'm a stressing out a little. The second my AP stuff is done, my scriptures are going to have to become my permanent sidekick.

I guess that's another point I need to make, and I'm going to make it in public. I'm moving out in roughly 90 days..which means I have 90 days to cement in my brain the importance of good habits. Scripture study, prayer, exercise, good food...you name it. I need to work on it. I'm so glad I'll be rooming with five girls who share the same standards I do, and who have the same priorities I do. But that doesn't change the fact that I need to work on it for myself. Starting May 17th, the number one goal is building healthy habits. Maybe I'll even document it. Who knows.

It's all in the eyes.

I'm just reading yet another juvenile chick-lit romance, and a line in it got me thinking.

"He gives me a look.

I give him one back."

Have you ever noticed that no matter who you're with, they can give you one look, and you know exactly what they're thinking? It cracks me up sometimes, and other times it's like they're staring straight into your soul and suddenly they know every deep dark secret you've ever kept.

If I say anything snotty, sarcastic, or even remotely rude, I know that Kyle will look at me like I'm a complete idiot. Just kidding. He just tilts his head, and looks down at me like I need to see a doctor. Which gets him a look in turn, that usually involves me sticking my tongue out or shrugging my shoulders. It says more than any teasing remark ever will, and it never ceases to make me laugh.

Emi and I mock each other incessantly, and when either of us runs out of something to say, we make the weirdest faces at each other. Crossed eyes, messed up mouths, and far too many twisted expressions. I'm not even sure what it means; maybe that the conversation is over, or it's a white flag of surrender. Who knows. But we're definitely in the running for the weirdest faces out there.

Hailee and her faces speak novels. It's a proven fact. Thursday night, she was...spooning? my massive teddy bear, and Emi and I were talking about who knows what. We said something ridiculous, or at least more ridiculous than usual, and the bear went up in the air and Hailee just made this "I can't believe you two just said that and I hang out with you on a daily basis and call you my friends" face.

Everyone knows when their mom is angry, because of her stink-eye. I know when my dad is making up a story, because his upper lip doesn't move, and I know when my friends are truly happy, because their eyes literally shine.

When it all comes down to it, the face is an amazing thing.

Yes, that was a random rant, but it's over now. Deal with it.

Also, my acrylics are gone and I really don't know how to handle feeling normal again. FYI.