Judgement in Every Drop

27 01 2012

So, anyone who’s been reading my recent posts on this site knows that I’ve been sick this week.  Really sick.  I thought that I’ve had a really bad cold, but now that I’m starting to finally feel better, I’m ready to admit that I most likely had the flu.  Ugh.  It knocked me out.  I’ve been the kind of sick that when I stand up, I realize that was maybe a mistake and I should just go lay back down.  I’m way better now, of course…but still feelin’ it.

I’m a huge fan of Ricola lozenges.  They are awesome.  But because of my congestion, I also got some Halls.  Halls are like my old standby.  They are comforting.  That’s what my parents used when I was growing up.  Ricola was something I found later–my coming of age cough drop.

Halls has done something new with their packaging.  Have any of you seen it?  On the outside of every drop’s wrapper, they have little sayings–”A Pep Talk In Every Drop!” they’re calling it.  Here are some of the phrases I’ve seen:

Go get it!

Dust off and get up.   

Get back in there.

Flex your “can do” muscle.

Impress yourself today.

Buckle down and push forth!

Now, I don’t know about you, dear reader.  But when I am the kind of sick where I can’t breathe through my nose, I’m headachey, and it’s exhausting just to make myself a bowl of oatmeal, I don’t want some pushy cough drop wrapper telling me to “push forth!’  Screw you, cough drop wrapper!  How can you come off all high and mighty?!  You don’t know how I feel!  Stop tellin’ me that all I need to do is just “get back in there!’  Geez.  The nerve.  Maybe my “can do” muscle needs a rest.  Did you ever stop to think about that?!  No?  I didn’t think so.

Maybe you should reconsider your campaign, Halls.  And I’ll help you.  (Contact me via the email address on this website to find out where you can send my check.)  Here are the types of things that should be written on cough drop packages:

Be easy on yourself.

Don’t feel well?  Stay home and watch a movie!

Take a break.

You look really cute under that blanket.

Close your eyes and relax.

Embrace your bed!

See, Halls?  It’s not that difficult.  Less judgement, more validation.  That’s what we all want–especially when we’re not feeling well.





Five Really Great Things About Being Sick

23 01 2012

Whew, that sick-haze around my noggin’ is startin’ to finally dissipate.  Hence, my optimism is thankfully returning.  But I digress.  I promised a list, and here ’tis:

1)  breakfast in bed (and lunch…….and dinner)

2)  the welcome realization that you cannot smell when you haven’t taken the garbage out in days

3)  unabashed usage of comfy pants

4)  sleeping between naps

5)  watching old James Stewart movies (old movies, young James Stewart….swoon…)

I guess the irony here is that now that I’m starting to feel better, I can really appreciate being sick.  But nothing beats feeling well.  ‘Cause let’s face it.  I’m an unabashed comfy pants wearer on my healthiest of days.  And that’s a big ol’ scoop of truth right there.





An Open Letter to 2011

31 12 2011

Dear 2011,

Suck it.

Love,

Amanda

 

PS:  2012 is gonna be incredibly beautiful.





You

27 10 2010

There are few things that are certain in this world.  But at least one is that you will live with yourself for the rest of your life.  And doesn’t it make sense to treat well the person you’ll spend so much time with?  Therefore, always handle yourself with forgiveness, kindness, and love.





An Open Letter to My Third Metatarsal

26 06 2010

Dearest Third Metatarsal (on my right foot):

Firstly I would like to apologize for having not been fully acquainted with you before the incident.  You seem like such a fantastic metatarsal, and if it’s any consolation, I’ve made much more of an effort to befriend not just you but your familiar on the left foot since your regretful injury.  What can I say?  We don’t know what we’ve got till it’s gone–or in this instance–badly, badly bruised.

But now that we’ve gotten to know each other a little bit, I feel it’s time to let you know how dreadfully sorry I am for all of those years of cheap-ass shoes.  Oh!  If I’d known that “saving” all that money by purchasing $10 shoes and walking miles and miles in them would only add up to me–years later–having to spend hundreds of dollars on custom made orthotics, well let’s just say, I would’ve made less trips to Payless over the years.  Oh, but there I go again–thinking of money!  What I should apologize for is simply not being fully aware of your importance, your abilities, and your needs.

Speaking of your needs, I had some questions.  Now, I know the doctor said I should stay off of you as much as possible, ice you, continue the ultrasound therapy, etc…  With all of that, he said that you’d be fully healed in three to six weeks.  Well, I’m certainly on board for making sure you get what you need!  I love you dearly and want nothing more than for you to be all comfortable and pleased again so that we can get around and be our active, frisky, and happy-go-lucky selves.  But I was wondering if we could talk about that time frame.  Um… would you be flexible with that at all?  I mean, if I throw in some light arnica massages, could we maybe move the scheduled healing up a week or two?  How about when I visualize you being contented and gratified?  Or even the little affirmations I’ve been giving you?  Is that helping?  Or is it your little joke–turning me into “that lady who talks to her feet”…?

Admittedly I haven’t truly known you all that long, but I don’t think you’d try to play a joke on me.  I feel like this whole thing is a bit of a misunderstanding-turned-accident.  So, now that everything is out there in the open, maybe we could put the pain aside and get back to being happy.  Yes?  I eagerly await your reply.  Until then, you shall remain in (er, higher than) my heart.

Respectfully Yours,

Amanda








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