Flipping the switch

There’s many times where I can go about my days and appear meek. So meek and mild that people think they can take advantage of me, because I don’t react or my guard is so down, that when someone says something nasty or rude to me, I don’t respond and it doesn’t phase me.

Then there’s those other times where I’m almost looking for it. Where I gear myself up, knowing something is coming and when it does, my switch is flipped and I react faster than my brain is working.

Yesterday, I was split. I was reserved but knew something was coming and simultaneously prepared for it.

While standing in the security line, I eyed the lanes up ahead. One went to the body scan (which I refuse to do) while the other went to the metal detector. I do this every time I go to the airport. I make sure I know which lane to get into for the metal detector to avoid all issues. But I texted G-man while the line crawled forward that I had a feeling I was ‘going to get touched today’. He laughed but with each step closer, I knew the TSA girl was going to be a problem.

Especially since she was blocking the metal detector forcing people to get in the already long line for the body scan. Granted she would let certain people through, but only a ‘certain type’ and knowing she would do this, just made me get geared up more for my turn with her.


via pinterest

I took my time, hoping she’d step away, but after I pushed my bins through, I pointed at the detector behind her and said I wanted to go through. But she wouldn’t let me. I again told her, I just wanted to walk through since others had, but she refused; telling me I had to go through the scan. I refused. At that moment, she lets the woman directly behind me go through the metal detector, while yelling, ‘WE HAVE AN OPT OUT!’ {wouldn’t you know that just made me more angry} I practically pleaded with her, not seeing the difference between me and other woman.

I’m told to go through, step aside and wait for someone to pat me down. I’m livid at this point and we have a long stare down before I walk away.

:::I can see the headline now: retired Correctional Sergeant in scuffle with TSA Agent:::

I blow up at the girl who has to pat me down. Cutting her off as she describes what she has to do, telling her to ‘just get it done, I don’t want to hear it!’ (because seriously, I've been patted down before and have patted down thousands of people, myself…I know the drill) She feels bad and starts checking my bags. I did have the sense to say I wasn’t upset at her, since she was nice to me and she actually understood.

I work hard on calming down after boarding the plane but the simple fact that whole situation caused me to miss getting food was making it hard to relax. After hours on the flight, I’m back to normal but know any little thing had the potential to set me back and the moment the window seat guy chose to not close the overhead bin for the 2nd time, without a care to the possibility of the bags falling on my head, I slammed it closed so hard, it hurt even my ears. And I thought..why?

What did I gain by doing that? By possibly hurting other’s ears to prove the point of my frustration over this guy’s selfishness and disregard for my safety? It didn’t phase him, but rather made me look like the immature fool for overreacting.

I have so much to learn in this little life of mine. I wonder if I’ll ever have a grip on that little switch that sometimes is so eager to get flipped. I truly wonder because I’m tired of looking like a fool.

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Dear Jillian Michaels, I now understand

I understand why you yell at people. I still don’t care for it, but I now fully and completely understand.

I’m working someone out. I know its lame, but I can’t talk too much about it, but they need help.

Enter ME.

There have been quite a few people who have referred to me as “Jillian Michaels” as I describe the workouts and my demeanor to them. Some in a good way…some not so good way.

But I don’t yell….but I can see where I could…

It can be frustrating listening to all the complaining and excuses being made, but I’m learning to not care and push them even harder. harsh? I don’t think so. But I know they think so. Maybe I’ll create a different approach.

I used this line the other day after they stopped in the middle of a set, ‘the longer you stop, the more we’re going to do.’ Needless to say we doubled that set.

Moving on…

I find a little pleasure in working people out. I’m not sure if I could do this as a full time thing, but I like knowing we’re both getting the benefit since I’m kinda getting a workout in too. And to see them go further than they did the day before or do more then they thought they could do is encouraging. But I get too emotionally involved I think. I get frustrated too easily at the lack of desire intensity devotion commitment to it.

A month ago I set a goal to work out 5 days a week. I’m doing really good. Now if you saw it, I said 6 days, but that proved too much for me and stuck with 5. 3 weeks in I was doing great, 4th week I got completely burned out by it and did I think 4 days. Thankfully with me working this person out, it’s enabled me to keep working out, albeit later in the day.

I admit, I’ve only done Ab Ripper X once in a week. But since I’ve worked out, my abs are rocking!

And my most difficult area, my legs are coming along too. Even my mom commented that she can tell they’ve toned up and my cankles aren’t so cankl-ee anymore. They’ve actually thinned down…since my calves have also thinned down. I’m so stinking happy at that report! It’s so hard for me to tell looking down on them.

I’ve slacked off on the push ups too, but I did 100 the other day and about died! This push up app that I have on my phone is destined to kill me.

I only have a few more days of hard workouts to do before I have my surgery so I really want to stay consistent with them all the way up to the end when I have to take a few weeks off. So here’s to pushing hard!!

How are you doing with your workouts??

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College girls are mean

Ok, so maybe not really mean, but when they think of ways to ‘initiate new freshman’ (I guess all freshman are new…any way) into the dorm hall they really think of some crazy stuff.

the computers that managed to erase 7 of my 12 pages final paper for Psychology

Take my hall for instance. It was appropriately named, “Circus Hall”. I didn’t ask to go in this hall, didn’t even know it existed, but in I went. First door on the left in fact.

(ok, so apparently it was the 2nd door. 1st is a closet. Please let’s not comment on what appears to be big hair, it’s a shadow, uh..promise.)

Circus Hall had a reputation for being…can you guess? Crazy. Good guess! However, as it always seems to be with me, the year I move in, everything goes blah, and the hall is not what it once was. I think it’s me…seriously.

Anyhoo, after a month or so goes by the RA gets the idea, unbeknownst to me and the other freshman, that they want to ‘welcome’ us into the hall.

Fast forward to a night like any other.

As I’m lying in bed my roommate gets up and says she has to use the bathroom and goes down the hall. (the whole hall shared the bathrooms. awesome). A few minutes goes by when there’s a knock at the door. I jump down from the bunk and swing open the door. The hall is pitch black and all of a sudden, out of the darkness, someone grabs my arm and yanks me out into the hall.

The next thing I know, I’m struggling with at least 6 girls as they’re grabbing my arms and legs, pinning me as best they can. I hear the sound of giggles and duct tape as one grabs my arm in an attempt to join it with the other. I fight with all I have, but by the end, they succeeded in taping my wrists and ankles together. They hoist me up and begin carrying me down the stairs out into the night.

As we round the corner of the building, I see a large group of students anxiously waiting for the “main event.” I get plopped onto a bench and securely duct taped down as I see another fellow freshman, with her fate already sealed like mine.

They make a little speech and begin to rain down every condiment known to man over my head and body along with flour and eventually eggs. Throwing, cracking, smashing them as if I were the frying pan.







Half way through the eggs, I manage to pry my hand out of the tape and begin throwing them back at the girls, creating a miniature food fight, much to the delight of the crowd.

Once they completely depleted their supply, they set me free. Walking me slowly into the night to the gym locker room so I could wash off.

The next morning I was presented with the ugliest mustard yellow shirt that said, ‘I survived Circus Hall Initiation’, and I wore it with pride that day.

It happened that we were the only 2 to get initiated. What planned to be 6 more, never came about, yet all the other freshman walked the halls afraid of when their time might come.

Circus Hall
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