It’s six o’clock in the evening, and I’ve stopped at the library on my way to a dance lesson, telling myself, Thirty minutes to write is thirty minutes to write. I’ve been on this kick the last few days–a little bit at a time, a little bit at a time–so this is just one more example. Earlier today I did a light workout at home–some leg lunges, push-ups, and squats–followed by a good amount of stretching. I found the workout routine on Pinterest. Anything to get started, I told myself. And whereas I didn’t do the routine exactly as “prescribed,” I did do something.

Sixteen push-ups is sixteen push-ups.

After I worked out, I watched a YouTube video about people who have one butt-cheek that’s bigger than the other (like I do). Apparently this is a common thing and can be caused by hamstrings that do more work than they should (and thus keep the glutes from doing their job) or hip flexors that are too tight. Anyway, recently I read that you should basically stop thinking of yourself as an anomaly, like, My hips and my body are uneven, and that’s just the way it is, since somebody, somewhere in history has surely experienced the exact same problems you have and has PROBABLY written or created a YouTube video about their solutions.

In other words, there are answers out there.

This afternoon I got my teeth cleaned for the first time in fifteen months. This is something I tend to put off whenever I’m low on cash, but it’s also something that rises to the top of my priority list whenever I decide to be more health conscious. It’s weird–whenever I’m all into tacos and beer, I think, Screw my teeth. But as soon as I decide to clean up my diet and go running every day, I all-of-a-sudden think I’m more–what’s the word?–deserving of a plaque-free smile. I’m sure I could make something of that, the idea that I don’t think I’m “worthy” to go to the dentist unless I also have a flat stomach, but I’ll leave that one to my therapist. Rather, I think positive actions simply have a synergistic effect–if you’re taking care of yourself in one area, it’s easier to take care of yourself in another.

When I walked into the dentist’s office, there was some kid–a little girl, I think–absolutely bawling her eyes out. At least that’s what it sounded like. I couldn’t see her, but EVERYONE could hear her. This girl had some serious pipes on her, and whatever the dentist was doing, she didn’t like it one bit. Whine, whine, whine. It was terrible to listen to. You should have been there! The lady at the front desk even apologized on this girl’s behalf. “I hope you didn’t come here to relax,” she said.

Like anyone goes to the dentist’s office to relax.

Now it’s time to teach dance, and I’m still thinking about that little girl and how clearly traumatized she was by whatever went on today in her mouth. It was positively awful for me to “witness.” I kept thinking, Is whatever you’re doing REALLY that important? Couldn’t it wait until junior high, Mr. Dentist? Whatever, I’m glad it’s not my job. Still, despite the disruption to my personal peace, I’m impressed with anyone who can vocalize without inhibition, anyone who can let the world know, Houston, we have a problem. I’m in pain over here.