I Did Everything My Lululemon Bag Told Me to Do. Here’s What Happened
Have you ever read a Lululemon bag? I have. It says that salt and butter equal early death, when in fact, I might die of heartbreak if I nixed them from my diet. But some of Lululemon’s manifestos are more actionable, so with February more than halfway over still not a single resolution made, I decided to try a few for a week. Scroll on to see how it went!
No, Lululemon, you listen to me: Use commas, please. But seriously, sometimes when people are talking to me I either a) worry that I don’t look like I’m paying attention, or b) am actually not paying attention because I’m thinking about how to respond. So the next time a friend vents to me about a stressful situation, I focus on seeing it from her perspective, rather than judging her from mine. And instead of worrying about how to solve her problem, I focus on trying to make her feel understood. I can’t stop the flood of thoughts about all the things I want to say, but I can keep redirecting my attention back to her and out of my own head. It’s kind of like meditating, but with “mm-hmm” instead of “om.”
I’m not sure what stale water is, so I assume that what comes out of my tap constitutes fresh. I drink six small Klean Kanteens (that’s 108 ounces), plus a thermos of coffee rather than as much as I can, because your blood can actually become dangerously diluted if you drink too much water. If you’re wondering how much you should drink, the answer is a frustrating “it depends…” on how much you weigh and exercise, mostly. The gauge I go by? My pee looks like lemonade rather than hard cider. I wish I could say I ate less or that my skin was glowing, but really, I just took a lot of bathroom breaks.
I imagine outlandish scenarios way too often: dropping a heavy dumbbell on my face during chest presses, being mauled by the coyotes that live in the cemetery by my house, getting locked in a sauna, etc. For some reason, the best-case scenario — dying of natural causes, painlessly, surrounded by my loved ones — makes me way more freaked out. But it also helps me start seeing things in a new light. I try a combo of doing more of whatever brings me joy, and finding the joy in the stuff I can’t avoid (work, cleaning and now thoughts of my eventual demise), so that when I’m on my deathbed, I don’t regret spending my life waiting for the fun to start.
Which is what, exactly? According to the National Institutes of Health, some experts advise spending 30 minutes in the sun between 10am and 3pm at least twice a week for sufficient vitamin D synthesis. Too bad I live in Portland, Oregon, where it’s been raining almost every day for over a month. This one will have to wait for spring.
“Things can and will work out” was my motto for a long time. I stole it from an anxiety and phobia workbook, which should tell you something about my propensity to focus on the negative. I fall back on it when my husband’s truck disappears. And it’s true: It turns out it was towed for blocking someone’s driveway, not stolen. I don’t believe that thinking good thoughts makes good things happen, but I am convinced that most molehills don’t become mountains, and that even the mountains are scalable.
Instead of listening to NPR as I make dinner, like I usually do, I sing along to ’90s R+B. Blackstreet and Destiny’s Child make chopping broccoli seem more fun, and they’re easy to dance to. And I already floss every night. And let’s be real: I’m not going to embark on a long journey without considerable advance planning. However, in the next few months, I’m headed to New York City, Macau and a working ranch in Northern California. Studies show that anticipating a vacation boosts your mood, so I add all three destinations to the Weather Channel app on my iPhone and start fantasizing about what it’ll feel like to be in snow and sunshine — anything but rain.
Maybe it’s because I left out some of the more inane ones, but I think there’s something for everyone on the Lululemon bag (unlike the clothing, which goes up to only a very small size 12). See for yourself here — just promise you won’t pick the one about having children without putting a lot of thought into it first.
What’s your favorite phrase on the Lululemon bag? Tweet us @BritandCo and let us know!