A Little Philosophy....

***Before I start today's post, I would like to explain this picture. My friend Greg sent me a text message late last night demanding more pictures on this blog. He did not specify what the pictures should be of, so I can only assume he meant pictures of himself. So this is a nice picture of me and Greg at a bar called The Stadium in Quincy a few weeks ago. He is lucky I chose this picture, as I have a nice one of him wearing a poncho that I know you all would have enjoyed :) ***

OK, ON TO THE PHILOSOPHICAL STUFF....


Off the top of my head I can think of two songs that tell me to live like I'm dying. One by Tim McGraw and another by Kris Allen. I don't like either of the songs, but last night after I grossly overdid my weekly ice cream intake, I began to think about how much I love ice cream. I thought “ If I died tomorrow, I would be very happy that I spent my last night as an Earthling taking down 3 giant bowls of Mint Cookie Crunch.” I mean, does anybody really want their final meal to be 3 oz of chicken and one Zone block of spinach? I was so mind boggled by this concept, (that also could have been the three glasses of Chardonnay...Happy Humpday to Haley!) that I made a mental note to post about it today when the booze/sugar hangover wore off. In reality, my new lifestyle could be considered extreme, almost obsessive actually, by a lot of people's standards. So with this in mind I must pose the question; Is it really worth it to give up things that you love in the name of health, when your last day on Earth could be TODAY?

I began to think of all the foods I have given up to live this Paleo lifestyle. The list was long and depressing. Then my mind wandered to the impact that my regimented exercise schedule has had on my social life. It was drastic. I began to realize that in the past year I have done a 180 as a person. Picking up pizza on the way home from work, something I used to do several times a month, seems so off-limits to me now. And how can I see a late movie with friends on a Tuesday night if I have to be up at 5am to workout? That wouldn't be a smart choice to make! My mind was reeling as I remembered how spontaneous ( even reckless) the old Haley used to be. I thought about how these days, everything seems to be so routine. Gym, work, grocery store, TBS, (except Wednesday...I hate Tyler Perry's House of Pain,) shower, bed, repeat. I mean, if my destiny really is to choke on a cherry Halls tomorrow, (for those of you who know me, you know I love cherry Halls cough drops. I even get them from Santa) should I really be spending my final hours eating a nice helping of cottage cheese and hitting the hay at 9:30pm? Surprisingly, after much thought and consideration, I have come to the conclusion that the answer to this incredibly deep and philosophical question I conjured up in my giant head (I have a giant head) is YES. Here is why.

I have given up a lot of things I used to love in the name of health. Pizza, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, staying up until four in the morning with friends drinking Bud Lites and eating burritos...the list goes on. And honestly, I know that if I happened to stumble upon a nice bowl of delicious sugar coated cereal, or a bunch of drunk people indulging in some Mexican delights, I would still love it. But, while I loved all of these things, I most definitely did not love the way they made me feel after the fun was over. Pizza left me feeling fat, tired, and craving more carbohydrates the next day. Drunken nights that turned into mornings also left me fat and tired but even worse, I was often ridden with embarrassment and anxiety over the things I had said and done while I was, for lack of a better term, “gone wild.” When I REALLY think about it, while I do sometimes miss my carefree days of the past, the happiness I feel in my new life is 100 times stronger than any joy I could get from a crab rangoon. My life is the best. I wouldn't even trade lives with Beyonce! (too much sequins and Jay-Z nose going on in her world.)

I guess what I am trying to say is that the phrase “live like you're dying” has a different meaning for me than I thought it did. Last night, standing over that half gallon of ice cream, I thought that living like I was dying meant I should be doing whatever the mother f I wanted. Now, I realize that it means I should be doing what makes me feel good, and as cheesy as it sounds, being true to myself. I am sure people talk all the time about how I've changed, and how I am boring now, and that's just fine with me. You may be more likely to catch me at the gym than at the local saloon these days, but I still value the same things, laugh at the same jokes, and love the same people I always did. The way I see it, I am living like I'm dying because I am dying. We all are. So why not live as healthily as possible and postpone that fateful day it as long as we can? DO IT.