I have officially completed my most challenging and emotionally taxing goal. No, I did not run the marathon or hike to the top of a mountain. I went for two whole weeks without shaving. Those other goals that I just mentioned may seem like they would be the ones to stress me out, but it was actually the goal of not shaving for two weeks that has given me the most anxiety. Let me give you a little backstory to explain these anxious feelings.
I know that it is a little late to be doing this, but I am going to make some changes to the 21 goals that I came up with a few months ago. I had distinct reasons for each goal that I set when I first wrote them, and as I have thought them through and begun working through them, I have come to the conclusion that some of them need to be changed. The following contains a list of the goals that are being replaced:
I have officially done it; I have finished one whole week of only using the phone capability on my iPhone. This is one of my goals that I dreaded almost immediately after I wrote it down. The thought of having to give up the features on my phone that I use constantly throughout the day was unpleasant to say the least. I was putting off tackling this goal for a few months, but a week ago I decided that the best time to complete this challenge would be during my break from college for the holidays. Armed with the knowledge that this was the most convenient time to start this dreaded task, I jumped head-first into my week of expected misery.
This weekend I completed the goal of traveling to visit a friend. The semester at college had ended on Friday (12/11), and I thought that it would be fun to go somewhere before heading back home to New York. With this in mind, I had made plans a few weeks ago to visit John, my former RA at college, at his home in Delaware. I had not seen him for a few months, and I knew that it would be fun to spend the weekend hanging out. On Friday I set out for the trip, and an unforgettable weekend began.
When I came to the end of my year of not eating dessert, many people asked me what I would do next. Some worried that I would begin gorging on every bit of dessert in a ten mile radius, and others worried that I would continue abstaining from dessert (seriously, some people acted like it would be a bad thing to continue refraining from eating something that I will admit that I am addicted to). I too wondered what I would do for my next challenge. I wanted to do something that pushed me even further than the dessert fast had done, so I decided to complete twenty-one challenges instead of only one.
I never thought that I would be able to say this, but I have officially gone one whole year without dessert. It all started on my twentieth birthday when my friend Olivia told me that I should try to go off dessert for thirty days with her. Feeling full from the obscene amounts of pizza that I had just crammed into my mouth, I readily agreed to the challenge. The next day I realized that my overstuffed stomach had lured me into a false sense of confidence, because I was already wanting to drop out of the challenge.
I have been quite restless lately. It is odd that I should feel this way since I have had the opportunity to travel to New York City twice and Washington D.C. once this summer. But even with these excursions, I have still felt trapped and antsy. So what can I do to relieve this feeling of entrapment? If this were a New York Times bestselling memoir, I would buy a one way plane ticket to Finland and backpack through the country with nothing but a journal and a sleeping bag. In case you did not know, this is not a bestselling memoir, so I have to do more realistic things to make my summer more interesting.
I have always enjoyed eating, and can remember how even as a young teenager I would binge on food. One memory that sticks out is of a time when I snuck into our laundry room to eat ice cream that was in the freezer. I was so scared of getting in trouble for eating something that I had been told not to touch that I did not even use a spoon to eat the ice cream. Instead, I scooped it out with my hands, as if I was a starving man who was raiding a dumpster. I wish that the stolen ice cream was an isolated situation, but that was not the case.
It’s been awhile since I have written about my attempts to spice up my life, so I decided that it was about time to sit down and share some things that happened at the start of this semester. The biggest thing, other than getting back into the swing of things at college, was that I attempted to add working out into my routine. Right now you are probably rolling your eyes thinking of the millions who commit to working out at the beginning of the New Year, well…I am one of those people. However, I did not plan on ending in a few weeks since I had a firm belief that I would start to actually enjoy working out. Haha, not really, I just believed that after repeated workouts, my brain would respond to the perceived trauma by pumping me full of endorphins to numb the misery.
The day after my sister’s wedding was the first time I was able to try out my newly purchased ski equipment. A friend’s dad, who had been skiing for most of his life, had offered to teach me the basics. I had gladly accepted the offer because the only other time I had been skiing had not gone as smoothly as I would have liked. A few years ago some of my sister’s friends from Connecticut were visiting our house and thought that it would be fun to all go to a nearby ski resort for the day. My sister had begged me to go along since she had never been skiing before and didn’t want to be the only one to look like a fool. I agreed to join them (mostly because my sister had offered to pay for my lift ticket and ski rental). Since skiing wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence, I didn’t have any proper ski clothes, so I chose to wear my dull, brown Carhart coat and Wrangler blue jeans. I looked like a farmer boy and felt like an idiot, but I told myself that other people there would be wearing work clothes. They weren’t.