Perfection is a Fallacy

As a middle school teacher, as a fitness coach, and as a human being, I would like to take the time to
interrupt your regularly scheduled programming (aka: scrolling your newsfeed) and let you know...

Perfection is a FALLACY.

You will never be perfect. I will never be perfect. But do you want to know what we can do? We can stop trying to be perfect. I see you over there posting photos of "plus size" models and starting a debate on how this is wrong. I hear you, at the party, talking about your diet as you shovel cupcakes into your mouth. I see you in the dressing room, frowning at yourself in the mirror.

And I want to tell you to STOP.
I want to ask you to STOP.

Stop putting yourself down. Stop taking time away from enjoyable things like shopping or cupcakes to complain about how you are not yet your idea of perfect.

Stop.
Smile.
Enjoy the beautiful world around you.

My pastor used to say, again and again, how we are made up of SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN parts. Our bodies are a masterpiece. We are fearfully and wonderfully made and it's time that we take notice of that. Stop poking and prodding and pulling on your love handles. Stop looking in the mirror and wishing that you saw something different.

Of COURSE I approve of eating healthy and working out and working to be the happiest version of yourself, but something that I do not condone and will not tolerate is negative self talk.

I am nowhere near perfect, nor am I working on becoming perfect. I am choosing to take care of my body because I am able to and because I know that I am important, that I have a purpose. I've found my purpose in fitness and nutrition {MUCH to my surprise} and I want to live the part.

So please, go and look at yourself in the mirror and find something to celebrate. You are a miracle. You are beautiful...you are already perfect.

and it is TIME that you started to believe that.
You deserve it. 

Love and Light,
Leah

Anchor

When I was in school to become a teacher, I had to write what was called a "Teaching Philosophy". {{Click to read}}

This was a document that I worked on for a very long time. It
had to explain, in less than two pages, everything that my 21-year-old self believed about teaching. I had barely set foot inside of a classroom when I first wrote this document, but it has only gone through a couple of changes since then.

It's my anchor.

After a hard day or week or year in the classroom, I can look back at this document and remember what it is that I hoped I would become as a teacher. It anchors me to my beliefs and reminds me which areas I still need to work on. You see, this document was written with passion. It was written before I knew about classroom politics and before my world became filled with real students and IEP meetings and parents. I LOVE the real parts of my job. I love working with real people and I love the challenges that the real world of teaching presents, but when I feel a little unsure of where to go next or what I am missing day to day in my classroom, I can reach for the string and pull up the anchor.

Once I've pulled my anchor up, I can drift for a few minutes. I can dream of ideal classrooms filled with large libraries and personal computers for every student. I can dream of small class sizes and rainbows and unicorns. But when I drop that anchor back down, I am grounded. I can handle the workload in front of me because I remember what it is that I believe in and why it was that I entered this profession in the first place. I can realize that it is not all rainbows and butterflies, but I can also recognize that I once believed that it could be. With my anchor safely planted, I can remind myself of that original sparkle in my eye and I can make sure that it stays.

I teach to transform, I coach to transform, I live to transform.

I live to transform those around me and the world that I live in (and myself) into the best versions of themselves (myself) they (I) can be!

And that, my friends, is what makes life so incredible.

Love and Light,
Leah

Healthy "Skinny" Alfredo

Something about calling recipes "skinny" annoys me slightly, but I am calling it that anyways. I guess
it's just because I dislike a focus on being thin and prefer a focus on being healthy.

To be honest, if I had had cream in the house, you'd better believe I would have whipped up a batch of the good stuff. I didn't though, so my brain thought--"Hey! I have greek yogurt!" and off to Google I went.

I found a few recipes but most of them had bad reviews, so I wasn't about to duplicate any of them completely. I did what I do best and threw a bunch of ingredients in a bowl and mixed it all together.

I started with a half of a cup of plain greek yogurt and then added 1/2 tsp of salt…yeah that was WAY too much. Here are the actual amounts of things I used:

1 cup plain greek yogurt
1/2 tsp salt
pinch black pepper
pinch italian seasoning
pinch oregano

...and then it tasted too much like greek yogurt so I did something kinda bad and I added about 1/4 cup of Smart Balance. I haven't done any research on it because I don't usually use it--it was sitting in the fridge from something my boyfriend made, but I figure it probably has a bunch of hydrogenated oils and I might have been better off with the heavy cream.

I grilled up some chicken and sautéed some mushrooms and tossed it all together with some pasta and parmesan cheese!

Not to shabby, but not as good as the real stuff!

Love and Light,
Leah

Uprooted

This year has been the year of changes. Last year around this time, I stopped procrastinating and started packing my bags for Phoenix.

I was excited and terrified, all at the same time. I was leaving everything I had ever known and taking a one way flight across the country to my boyfriend who had made a lot of changes himself. It was a TOTAL wildcard, but I had made a calculated decision and everything was set up for me there. We already had a house, I had a brand new car with my name on it at a dealership, I had a job waiting for me. I had everything there and yet I had nothing.

Since my boyfriend had moved to Arizona, (he was my ex at the time, but that's another story altogether) I had spent that time creating a wonderful life for myself in Buffalo. I had three (yes, three) jobs that I loved, I had spent so much time with my perfect princess nieces (one and three, at the time), and I had this awesome relationship with my sister and I had a schedule. I knew who I would have dinner with on Thursday and who would bring me coffee on Monday night or meet me at yoga Wednesday after work. I had it all figured out.

But something was missing. A huge part of my soul was in Arizona, and I needed to be there.

So I did it, I pulled up my roots and I quit my job and hugged my mom and dad goodbye and I cried puddles of tears on my best friend's shoulder and I got on that plane. I got on that one way flight with my whole life crammed into three suitcases and yet my whole life before me. 

Looking back on that moment, I can almost give myself a panic attack. I am SO happy here. I love my job and my relationship is fulfilling. I've started a successful business and I've made many great friends. BUT if I sit in my bed late and night and if I let my mind wander back to New York, back to my parents and my sister and my grandma and my nieces and my friends who are growing and living without me, I lose it. 

I know I'm where I should be, but I still feel uprooted sometimes. I feel like a paper bag, floating through the wind (can you tell that I spend too much time looking through song lyrics for similes to teach to middle school students?) But seriously, sometimes I feel so uprooted that I can barely feel my feet on the ground. 

But sometimes, I feel so incredibly satisfied with the life I've created, that I feel like I might never come down. 

I think that letting yourself be uprooted might actually be a good idea, after all. 

Love and Light,

Leah