I Can’t, Vol. 49

This volume needs no introduction. Let’s dive right in.

I can’t…

like fucking CANNOT with this Lady Gaga body shaming bullshit. Y’all, it has me seething. Irate. Outraged. Horrified. That woman is a tiny waif whose weight is more than likely double-digits, and we have the audacity to say ANYTHING ABOUT IT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I’d like to see half the trolls who’ve dared spit critic and judgment at her to get on stage in a bodysuit and a two-piece ensemble in front of MILLIONS OF PEOPLE and sing (LIVE for that matter) and dance 1/8 as flawlessly as she did. To call out the ONE, ITTY BITTY, MICROSCOPIC PIECE OF “NORMAL” ON  HER BODY AND SHAME HER FOR NOT HIDING IT IS JUST. I’m having a really hard time finding the right words to rant about this because I’m so worked up. I mean, SOMEONE PHOTOSHOPPED HER TO SHAME HER NORMALCY:

SHIELD YOUR EYES, CHILDREN. A CENTIMETER OF STOMACH “FLAB” IS SACRILEGIOUS. I DON’T WANT YOU GROWING UP THINKING THIS IS OKAY. This is why. This is why girls are “insane” when it comes to body image and confidence. This is why we’re so fucked up in the head that even the tiniest, thinnest of us call ourselves “fat,” “gross,” and “disgusting.” This is why, most days, the progress I’ve made over the last 19 months of working out is not what I deem successful or worthy of praise since I don’t have a six-pack and still rock three substantial stomach rolls at all times, so I obviously am not allowed to constitute my progress as impressive or fruitful. This is why women kill themselves for not losing the baby weight after a week, indulging in dessert, or skipping the gym because they’re just too tired. If people (and my guess is most of these “people” are gluttonous pieces of shit) are offended that Lady FUCKING Gaga didn’t starve herself just a little bit more before shoving her disgusting, not perfect body in our faces, what hope is there for the rest of us? Guess I’ll go blow some water out of my blowhole and load up on krill since I and the rest of us are considered whales. Unconscionable.

I can’t…

(still on a Super Bowl theme it would seem) with Tom Brady and Gisele’s diet. I mean, shit. Kudos to being a “retired” supermodel and a 39-year-old Super Bowl-winning QB who’s considered the GOAT, but a quinoa dish with wilted greens, toasted almonds, cashew sauce, and just a little bit of lemongrass IS NOT A CHEAT MEAL. SO.

I can’t…

stress enough how great these blue light blocking specs are that I’ve been annoyingly plugging on my Snapchat since last week (DO YOU FOLLOW ME? YOU SHOULD @ icantemma). They are a game changer, y’all. In fact, I’ve tried a few times now to work without them and the difference is almost unreal. You may have a great desk setup wherein your screens and overhead lighting doesn’t bug you, but the light directly over my desk is not adjustable and murders my peepers. These glasses have saved me. For now. And don’t feel like you have to get my exact style — Amazon offers tons of different shapes and colors for all types of faces and personalities. Find what’s right for you and get ready to feel a lot better about sitting in a cubicle staring at screens all day (JK, you’ll never feel better about that because it’s fundamentally depressing AF).

I can’t…

with my new passport photo. I’m not sure how it got into my head that you’re not allowed to smile in it? And I’m not sure why I wouldn’t confirm that before taking it and sending it off to be scanned into a document that’s going to last for the next 10 years? Yet, here we are. It screams “Hello. I not from here, but would like very much to be. I have never known happiness or joy. Nicest to be meeting you.”

I can’t…

find the balance between drinking enough water throughout the day and not having to pee every hour on the hour. IT’S THE WORST. I want to be healthy and have clear skin and clear pee, but AT WHAT COST? Sure, it’s good to get up from your desk and move a bit every hour, but it’s also so hard sometimes. Sometimes, I just want to keep sitting here. I don’t want my body to force me to stand up and walk the 20 feet to the bathrooms. Sometimes my efforts to be healthy and my body’s reaction to it is just too damn much. What’s a girl gotta do (besides fall victim to some horrific accident) to get a urine bag around here?

I can’t…

with my new gym backpack. I’ve had a whatever Nike one forever then saw one of my BBG ladies (@carasfitcode) sporting a brand I’d never heard of and knew I had to look into it. Low and behold: VOORAY. I don’t say this often, but I’m pretty sure they made this particular design just for me. I mean, heather grey is my favorite color and I love anything with floral print. So. Also, at $20, this adorable backpack was 100% worth it. Can’t wait to wear it in, put it away for the duration of my workout, then wear it out. 

I can’t…

sleep without my white noise machine (which I’m pretty sure I’ve written about before), but on epic sleep-struggle nights, I double up with this amazing rain playlist on Spotify. If you’re open to the idea of sleep soundtracks, try it out. It’s quite lovely. My personal favorites are “Drought No More” and “Wet & Thorough.” 😉

Next time, it’ll be my 50th “I Can’t.” I’ll be sure to make it epic.

xox,