My well-intentioned husband bought me a Fitbit, but I’m practically hanging my head in ungrateful shame as I return it. To get the most out of my Fitbit, I need to wear it all the time, shackling me like an I’m-on-house-arrest ankle bracelet. What does this say about me if I return a gift because I don’t like it? What kind of monster am I?
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My 50th birthday had recently passed, and I wanted to make a change, something a little bigger than parting my hair on the opposite side. I saw an ad for the Color Run pop up on my Facebook page. When a race bills itself as “The Happiest 5K on the Planet,” I want in. “Less about your 10-minute-mile and more… Read more »
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Even though you know better, don’t you occasionally fall into the self-esteem-killing trap of comparing yourself to others? I know I do, especially since I just turned 50 – that Tweenior milestone when I should be nearing the peak of my life, but in reality, not so much. Like roadkill, comparisons draw you in, forcing you to stare even though… Read more »
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