What It's Like To Be a Comedian The Year After Trump Gets Elected

I’m not a teacher (anymore).

I’m a comedian.

I joke about awkward Tinder dates and farting in yoga class.

I joke about the fact that I look like a 12-year old and have to constantly convince 30-year old men on dates that they’re not pedophiles.

I joke I like my Kombucha like I like my cocaine, overpriced and I use it to make me skinny.

I joke about drugs even though I don’t do them and sometimes have to awkwardly explain to weird old guys at the bar that I can’t help them “acquire an 8-ball of cocaine.”

I joke about asking friends to avenge my death in the event that my skin gets made into a lampshade on my next blind date.

I joke in dive bars, prestigious clubs, basements, windowless classrooms, and my kitchen.

I joke on the subway in my little notebook, constantly trying to scribble down a new concept that could be funny but probably isn’t.

I joke late at night, which makes my mother nervous.

I joke to crowds of strangers, friends, drunk people, and sometimes drunk strangers that have recently become my friends.

I joke on my hands with setlists inked on my palms like badges of smudgy honor.

I joke even when my palms get sweaty and my entire set list is ruined. 

I joke I have a brain injury and I am still really bitter about not getting a handicapped parking spot.

I joke in my sleep and in the shower which is annoying because I can never remember any of the jokes produced in these two locations.

I joke I saw this weird guy today, let’s make fun of him.

I joke I’m actually the weird guy, let’s make fun of me.

I joke about my inability to get someone to date me for longer than two months.

I joke about ex-students, ex-boyfriends, and that one time I thought the Office Depot guy was hitting on me but he was really just checking to see if I was in the “Rewards Program.”

I joke even when everyone at the bar is yelling, someone forgot to shut off the music in the back, And there’s a band setting up for their show on the stage during my set and they absolutely can’t wait three more minutes to test that drum kit.

I joke to people that paid to be in the audience.

I joke to people that I paid to be in the audience.

I joke Wait, I have to pay to get an audience?

I joke sober and I joke 1-2 beers in.

I joke about funny shit kids used to do in my classroom like try to barrel-roll out of my classroom to escape to the bathroom, stealing my phone, and showing up high every day to 1st period.

I joke about how silly it would be if men had to have periods, like a traumatic scene out of Saving Private Ryan.

I joke about how bullshit salads are and people should really quit judging me for my salad topping choices, who are you, my DAD?

I joke even when men explain comedy to me despite my combined six years of improv, sketch, and standup experience, personal study, reading, workshops, and training at comedy theaters.

I joke while struggling to figure out who I am and if I like the person I look at in the mirror every day.

I joke to the sound of hardy laughter, confused laughter, and often times an exotic form of “silent laughter.”

I joke about a lot of movie references, specifically romantic comedies, which I’ve been told is only funny if you’re a white women between the ages of 18-32.

I joke word-play and puns.

I joke about my medical history.

I joke about my anxiety and depression.

I joke in several medium-sized notebooks, which I misplace on bar stools and in bathrooms every night.

I joke while looking up to comedians that are funnier than me, practice more than I do, and are crushing because of it.

I joke even when I’m discouraged, disheartened, and in general need of therapy.

I joke as therapy.

I joke Oh, you’re gonna’ try and heckle me during my set, good sir? Go ahead and try. Oh, shit. Now I’ve done it. Please, sir, shut up. No really. Shut the fuck up.

I joke despite breaking the microphone 97% of the time I use it.

I joke in a black fedora that people now don’t recognize me without.

I joke in sneakers because ain't nobody got time for that shit.

I joke in the presence of the most talented comedians in the country.

I joke backstage trying to decide if I have time to nervous poop right before my set.

I joke after long days of work and emotional turmoil.

I joke even when I am the last to sign up for an open mic and don’t make it up on stage and spent the past three days preparing but stay anyway to support my fellow comedians. 

I joke to supportive audiences, my mother, and mostly a room full of other comedians who have all heard my jokes before and don’t look up from their phones.

I joke Have we covered dick jokes? after an entire hour of dick jokes at a mic.

I joke with comedians that started when I did, have busted their asses, and are on their way up.

I joke about the creepiest Groupon massage I ever had, performed by an 86-year old Trump-supporting Bavarian man with the sniffles.

I joke in 3 to 10-minute increments.

I joke about all of these things and more.

But what I don’t joke about is how to be funny.

Not how to write a good punch line or how to use the microphone.

But how to be funny when nothing has been funny since Donald Trump got elected.

I don’t joke Fuck, are we all going to get blown up in a nuclear war?

I don’t joke I better stock up on birth control pills before the President takes them away from me for good.

I don’t joke hate and bigotry and fear.

I joke Listen to me my fellow comedians, I love you more than you will ever know and I will fight for your right to tell jokes on this stage until my last dying breath.

I joke even in years like this one when it feels like every atom in my body is screaming.

I joke for you and I joke for me.

Because America has been the least funny place in the entire world this year and we owe it to ourselves to keep laughing.

An Open Letter To My Depression

Hello darkness my old friend...

Dear Depression,

Hey there. I’d say, “long time, no see” but I think we both know that’s not the truth. I hesitated for a long time even calling you by your name.

It felt, well, it felt wrong.

Because you see, I didn’t want to acknowledge you. I was trying to ignore you, actually. I thought that if I averted my eyes when I saw you, walked on the opposite side of the street, or ducked into a crowded room that maybe you’d go away or just give up.

But you are very persistent.

You’ve followed me through the years like a silent shadow; through traumatic heartbreaks, medical mishaps, and even just plain old everyday shit.

Sometimes you linger at times that are appropriate, others not so much. I’m not entirely sure anyone noticed you either. I was pretty good at shoving you neatly under a rug or tucking you in the back of a dresser.

At one point I tried to ward you off with medication but ended up with more dangerous side-effects than actual progress. I paid a lady with a couch to talk about you for a while, too. I’ve spent hours reflecting, trying to pinpoint what your fucking deal is and why you won’t get off my case.

You’re elusive, too.

Which is also why I didn’t like naming you because I wasn’t really sure it was you.

You morph and change all the time.

Sometimes you leave me dry heaving for oxygen as tears burst from my eyes like little flames.

Other times, well, other times you just make me feel fucking empty.

Like I’m missing something, but I can’t put my finger on it. Like walking into a room and then forgetting why you went there in the first place.

You’ve made me feel tired.

The kind of tired that can only be described as an unwillingness for my bones and spirit to move at a normal pace. I can fake it. But only for a little while until you remind me that I ain’t shit and my bed is the safest place for me to be.

I don’t feel comfortable telling my friends and family about you.

Sometimes I’m not sure if they’d believe you're real, tell me to just “get over you already,” or show genuine concern for your obsession with my body and mind.

I don’t want to talk about you because then I’ll feel weak.

Like I haven’t matured properly or like I’m some kind of failure of a person for having to deal with you. I don’t want people to misunderstand. I don’t want people to feel sorry or try to fix. I just want you out of my face, so I can move on with my life.

I haven’t even written jokes about you because I can’t find any possible scenario where you’re funny. And I certainly don’t want you to be funnier than me.

And you know what they say, tons of comedians talk about how sad they are on stage.

“It’s just what we do.”

Well, I want no part in it.

I don’t want to give you a single bit of my stage time or recognition. Even writing this letter is probably a waste of my time.

You haven’t whispered dark and terrible ideas in my head for a while now. You know, like the ones about killing myself. It’s been probably six years since you tried to feed me that shit and I never believed you.

I don’t want to die, you sick fuck. I want to live.

And that’s also what’s so frustrating about you. Every time I live and do something awesome, you still can’t be happy for me. You can’t pull your head out of your ass and tell me your proud or honored to know me.

A lot of cool shit has happened to me recently and you can’t even be bothered to notice.

I moved to New York City. I am doing all the comedy I ever wanted to do. I fell in love for a while. I am inches away from getting my book published.

And you’re too busy trying to convince me the world is on fire and that all the fire extinguishers in the world couldn’t keep everything I know and love from burning to the ground.

You’re such a fucking asshole.

There. I said it. You. Are. An. Asshole.

And not just to me. Shit, you’ve been hurting my friends too. My family. You’ve had your hand in so many of our lives and all you do is take, take, take.

Well, you can take your hand off me, you filthy bastard because I’m through with you.

I’m done hiding from you and pretending.

I refuse to let you rob me of my happiness, past, present, or future.

You get nothing.

You don’t get to push me around anymore or tell me what to do or how to feel.

I hope you had fun because those days are over. Done. I’m arming myself up with everything I can find to make sure I never see your face again.

I’m going to meditate.

I’m going to run.

I’m going to write.

I’m going to speak out.

I’m going to eat.

I’m going to enjoy.

I’m going to do the fucking work.

Because I deserve to be happy.

And you?

You’re dead to me.

Nah, you know what? You’re worse than dead. You’re decomposing. Like the rotting banana I see on my way to the subway every day.

You’re so insignificant I can’t even be bothered to notice you anymore.

So goodbye and good riddance. I hope the door hits you on your way out.

NOT Sincerely,

Mimi

What I Learned on a 30-Day Cleanse Diet

Hello, there my tiny scale friend! What news brings the day? Hark! A higher number than yesterday I see!

I’m not good at 30-day things.

My 30-day yoga challenges turn into 3-day yoga followed by 362-day no-yoga. With a few hot yoga’s thrown in there just because I hate myself and keep holding onto the idea that sweating my weight in liquids onto my yoga mat is actually fun and not the worst idea I’ve ever had.

This past month I tried a 30-day cleanse diet. And boy was it a doozy!

Never in my life would I have sought this kind of thing out on my own free will. But thanks to a lovely friend who posted a transformation photo and story recently (SHOUT OUT to Layne if you out there, girl you duh best), I thought hey, why the hell not.

I had zero expectations with this thing. Negative expectations actually.

I had this conception in my head that people who went on diets were crazy, deranged, wack-a-doodle’s. And sometimes just plain ol’ bat-shit sociopaths.

Who is this motivational person on this pamphlet to tell me not to eat bacon?

I. Don’t. Think. So.

But I called up my ol’ friend from middle school and we chatted about her transformation. It was amazing. She told me she not only looked great but actually felt great too. I liked the idea of not feeling so fat and lazy all the time.

I’d hit a point where I started to notice extra fat hanging around my sides in photographs. I took a selfie and had a double chin without trying. I ate a lot of delicious foods in Europe in the spring and I think they attached themselves to my belly button. Alright, I told myself. What the hell, let’s just do this thing.

Here is my (abridged) experience:

Day before:

• A lot of my friends are resisting the idea of me being on a diet “You don’t need to lose weight,” they say. “Haven’t you heard of working out?” “That’s a pyramid scam,” or my personal favorite, “Just cut out carbs, it’s easy.”

• I promptly want to punch them all in the face.

• I buy a sugary coffee on my way to an improv show, there was 5 dollar minimum on the card so I had to buy a bag of skittles (obviously).

• I drink a beer with new friends after the show because I have a feeling this is the last time I can do this kind of thing.

• I buy a tube of Pringles on the subway home. I feel hopeless and probably not even that hungry. I see a guy pissing on the side of the subway, run to the opposite side of the platform, and eat half the tube in disgust and shame. I get on the subway and try to offer the other half of my Pringles can to a homeless man and even HE didn’t want that shit. I get off the subway and proceed to throw away the can in the nearest trashcan.

Day 1: Sat 8/12

• Wake up, tired at 10:30 a.m.

• Read the directions on my giant box of mystery weight loss products.

• Take a “natural accelerator” pill.

• Drink 1 oz. of a weird brown liquid and start to question my life decisions.

• Make a vanilla shake, not the worst thing I’ve ever had. But it’s no doughnut.

• It’s snack time! I am so excited to eat again that I try to cut into a baby avocado that isn’t even close to ripe and butcher it horribly.

My life summed up in one photograph...

• I end up eating 10 grape tomatoes and a tiny spoon of hummus and kind of want to punch my boyfriend* as he opens a bag of Takis while simultaneously offering me a scoop of ice cream.

• Make banana bread with chocolate chips that I can’t eat and lick the spoon on accident.

• 2nd shake of the day, strawberry…I get the consistency down a bit better.

• First meal of day: half plate Kale (it’s surprising how good Kale can taste when you haven’t had solid food all day), half plate whole grain coos-coos with spoon of garlic, some artichokes, and a handful of grape tomatoes, plus some Trader Joe’s Mango Sweet and Spicy dressing (probably not supposed to eat this dressing but fuck it).

Day 2: Sun 8/13

• I feel sick this morning, like pukey. Maybe it’s the consistency of the shake. I’ve let it sit for a bit and now it’s lukewarm. I try to drink it, but cast half aside unable to stomach the texture of what feels like warm drool.

• I gulp down the brown liquid stuff again and feel like a whiny 9-year old taking my cough syrup medicine.

• For a snack, I have lentils and rice and veggies and don’t totally hate myself.

• Only one word can describe my emotions at 11 a.m. HANGRY. FUCKING HANGRY.

• I have my 2nd shake and a handful of almonds.

• I make dinner. A baked stuffed pepper with quinoa, asparagus, tomatoes. I inhale half of it and then have to get on a train to a house event.

• I break not once, not twice but THREE times at the house party. I sneakily inhale three bites of fettuccine alfredo, then cut a pizza into a small triangle and inhale that in shame, and then cut a small piece of bread. In my haste, the bread drops to the floor and I pick it up and dust it off, cover it with brie cheese and homemade berry jam and eat it anyway.

• I feel like a giant dumpster fire of a human being.

• No one at the party senses my disdain for them all as I watch them merrily eat everything and anything they want. Those fucking assholes with their brie cheese. BRIE.

LOOK AWAY.

Day 3: Mon 8/14

• I feel much better this morning and have my 1st shake of the day and prep for an interview.

• I get really hungry right as I’m leaving for the interview. I’m stressed because I’m helping someone new move into the house. I eat a “Go Lean” Isagenix bar and make a strawberry shake for the subway ride.

• My train is about to leave and I’m walking the new guy to the train but he needs to refill his MetroCard. I apologize and run onto the train anyway, not stopping for him because I can’t risk being late to this interview.

• I am early to my interview, encouraging me to stop at Starbucks and order an unsweetened pineapple black tea and call my best friend Kristen.

• I eat a quinoa bowl and water for dinner! Go me!

• I go to a friend’s comedy show. There is a 2 drink minimum which I confuse with a 2 item minimum. I buy zucchini chips…(okay they are fried), a hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps (minus whipped cream), and a way too expensive Perrier.

• I get to keep the mug from my alcoholic drink but steal the pen from signing the check because I spent 40 bucks and feel empty inside.

Day 4: Tues 8/15

• I get help from a friend on how to manage the 20-person co-living space I’ve just been hired to manage. I drink my shake slowly over the course of 3 hours.

• Later I go to a coffee shop and get a tea while I prepare for another interview for the next day.

• It’s 4 pm and I’m still at the coffee shop and now I am STARVING because I suck at following an eating schedule.

• I get home and eat a handful of nuts and cranberries.

• I eat 5 mini pretzels with cheese.

• I eat 5 cinnamon sugar almonds.

• I have my 2nd shake.

• I lead a house meeting and order pizza for my housemates. I eat a salad and fruit and try my best not to even look at the pizza. Go me!

Day 5: Wed 8/16

• I might be losing my mind but there are weird beige spots on my arms today…are these bruises? Am I dying? Wtf is going on.

• I feel more energy today but feel like I need more to really crush my interview. I eat a Go Lean bar on the way to the 911 Memorial and stop at Starbucks for a small iced coffee with a pump of vanilla. I crush my interview and feel awesome on the sugar high that I'm not allowed to be experiencing.

• I drink my 2nd shake then meet at Whole foods in Tribeca for manager training and dinner for my house. I get a box and head to the salad bar. I get some grilled veggies, salad, stuffed zucchini, tiki masala…and shit now I’ve gotten 2 large spoon’s full of mac and cheese, how the fuck did that happen. Oh, well.

• I decline dessert even though the CEO’s are buying.

• I go home and have a weird bowel movement.

Day 6: Thurs 8/17 (Cleanse Day 1)

• It’s cleanse day #1 and I talk to Layne on the phone about the schedule I should follow for cleanse days. I have absolutely no idea what I’ve gotten myself into.

• I spend the day eating my chalky capsules, pills, juice concoctions, chocolate (that’s my favorite part), and water.

• I sit and watch my boyfriend* order a veggie burger at a restaurant and can barely stand it.

• I have one slice of cucumber and a slice of tomato on accident.

• I’m writing like mad today because a publisher has requested my manuscript. I am having trouble focusing on the task at hand because I like to eat when I write. A lot.

Day 7: Fri 8/18 (Cleanse Day 2)

• It’s cleanse day #2; they are back to back every few weeks and I feel like that’s a recipe for disaster (and not the delicious kind).

• I’m actually doing okay. I’m surprised that I survived yesterday without real food.

• I follow the hourly schedule with fighter pilot precision.

• My boyfriend* lets me have a bite of mango at 3 p.m.

• This is more of a mental game than anything else. I don’t think I’m even that hungry, I just want to eat food to eat it, you know?

Day 8: Sat 8/19

• My book is due to the publisher today and I am stressed AF. I get up early to write, make a shake and forget to eat again until 5 p.m. I eat some pretzel crackers and avocado in .02 seconds over the sink.

• I lead an improv workshop in the basement of the house and buy some sugary snacks and alcohol for everyone. I eat a few pieces of chocolate but restrained myself from alcohol (okay so I took a sip and then bf was like “what are you doin’” and I was like “you right Bae, thanks”).

• I eat 2 bites of zucchini pasta and a shake for dinner.

• I weigh in and have lost about 5 pounds.

Day 9: Sun 8/20

• It’s Brunch Day at the house and we’re pulling out all the stops: biscuits and gravy, eggs, an entire case of champagne…

• Restrained myself and had Kombucha instead of Champagne and I’m going to be honest they taste about the same.

• I try to keep it light and have a few potatoes, half a biscuit, and tons of fruit (the non-Tequila-soaked ones).

• Lesson: I don’t even crave the alcohol, it’s the company. The people. I want to be around my friends!

Day 10: Mon 8/21

• It’s my first day at my editorial internship and I’m excited to walk into the office feeling like a big girl with a big important job.

• I kind of forget to eat again during normal lunch time but brought snacks and had a salad and shake.

• After the internship, I meet up with my new friend Becky and BREAK the shit out of my diet by eating a cheese board, bread, and “world famous” mac and cheese.

• I regret nothing but also everything.

• I feel a bit guilty, but also manage to restrain myself from alcohol for the 3rd day in a row! Wow!

Day 11: Tues 8/22

• Adding this Isagenix orange energy powder thing to my Vanilla shake (tastes like Orange Creamsicle) is rocking my world right now.

• I do a 4 mile run at Prospect Park and talk to geese and turtles and see a swan floating away like he didn’t want none of your bullshit.

• Lunch/Dinner: Veggie burger with Ezekiel bread, garlic spread, sweet corn salsa, tomatoes, and cucumbers OMG FOODGASM.

• Another shake at night and some bites of curry (bf is so supportive he gives me bites but only of healthy stuff).

• I realize that I am saving so much money on not eating out, drinking alcohol, and grocery shopping! YAY ME.

Day 12: Wed 8/23

• This Orange Creamsicle invention is still giving me life.

• I find out about the release of a new shake flavor, Cookies n’ Cream. I order it immediately and within a few hours, it completely breaks the internet.

• I make Quinoa pasta with Ezekiel bread on side for dinner 😊

Looks like I'm cheating...doesn't it. WELL I'M ACTUALLY NOT THIS TIME.

• I notice: not drinking enough water! Bad!

• Not much physical activity today but I felt pretty energetic.

• Made banana bread and subconsciously (or consciously) forgot to add the 3/4th cup of sugar! Woops. Still tasted good though with chocolate chips, soy milk, applesauce, and some agave.

Day 13: Thurs 8/24

• Was doing fine today until I saw an almond croissant from a bakery window…I ate it, naturally. I thought to myself, wow that was bad, why don’t I make up for it with this $8 juice, that must be healthy for me right? Um, NO. 190 calories, 810 mg potassium (okay, that’s okay right?), 45g carbs, 16g sugar, 340% Vitamin C. Alright, so not altogether awful. At least it’s not a Coke, right? But definitely not as healthy as the happy leaf on the front of the bottle would have you believe.

• I also notice when I tell myself I’m “hungry,” I actually get hungry. Like if I wasn’t thinking about food 24/7 I probably would have gotten on the train, skipped the almond croissant and juice, and been just fine.

Day 14: Fri 8/25

• I think I did okay today?

• I drink two shakes, a sushi dinner…is sushi in my diet? Can I eat this? No matter, it’s fucking delicious.

• I do some stand up at an open mic and don’t get any alcohol.

• When I get home some of the boys downstairs are playing a drinking game on the porch. I join them and feel super awkward when I decline alcohol again. “C’MON, ONE SHOT!” They scream. Nah, I’m okay. I just want to watch you all fail at the simplest of tasks in this game right now.

Day 15: Sat 8/26

• I have a comedy show tonight! I’m super excited and surprised that I got booked (shoutout to Raman if you in dis, thanks for hookin’ me up!).

• I have my shakes throughout the day and prep my set.

• I go to lunch with my good friend and brain buddy Emily who I haven’t seen for 6 years and we order a pizza and some salads. I wonder if it’s healthier because it’s gluten free but at this point, I think I’m just trying to make excuses. A pizza is a pizza.

• The show goes great and I feel back in the swing of stand up!

Day 16: Sun 8/27

• I’m getting a little frustrated because I’m not seeing the number on the scale go down…like at all. Damn it, pizza.

• I’m also on my special lady time so I’m bloated and feeling gross.

• I go for a run today which feels good.

• I want to eat a lot today, and I’m not really sure why...

• We do a taco bar for house dinner and I make mine like a salad…which is still probs not that healthy because I’ve dumped a bit of queso (okay a luxurious amount of queso) onto it.

• I’m not loving myself today. I feel shameful when I have these “fat” moments. It feels like I’m really screwing this up pretty much every day. Maybe I’m just emotional because my uterus feels like it’s on fire? I don’t know.

• I eat some snacks in the basement when we watch the Game of Thrones finale and feel real triggered.

Day 17: Mon 8/28

• Ate a “snack” tablet (kind of like a chalky tablet version of a shake) and an energy shot before my…wait for it…10.5 mile run. Yes. It’s true. I actually spent like 4 miles of this run getting lost in a cemetery, because that seemed like a good idea at the time.

• Finally arrive at my destination (a Trader Joe’s, obviously) and am a little disappointed by the scope and size of this location’s store. I buy some protein bars, water, and a non-Isagenix protein shake and call an Uber right as my phone is about to completely die.

• Take a shower. Get lunch with boyfriend* and another friend at an Israeli place down the street. I don’t realize what I’m ordering and it’s a sandwich. I pick off the bread and eat all the yummy veggie insides.

Day 18: Tues 8/29

• The granola from Trader Joe’s is like crack cocaine…I hope I’m allowed to eat this. It looks healthy. It’s gotta be healthy. I mean come on.

• I snack during the internship on dried mango, a banana, and some chips and pico de gallo from the deli downstairs during lunch break. I’ve spent all day writing about food that I can’t eat and alcohol I can’t drink. It’s getting kind of annoying.

• I stop at a chocolate store to buy something (for my boyfriend*, not for me!) and end up getting a sample piece of chocolate and a sample of a pistachio macaroon. What! What was I supposed to do? Turn down a macaroon from the nice man? Come now, I might be on a diet but I do have a soul.

• Caught a whiff of Chick-fil-A on the way from the chocolate store to the subway and hate everything.

Day 19: Wed 8/30

• A French house guest catches me making my shake this morning (with my new Cookies and Cream flavor!) and comments that “zat stuff eez really bad for you.” Hmm. Pourquoi, my little French busybody? I guess it’s starting to piss me off a reasonable amount that everybody and their mother has to weigh in on my dietary choices. What’s that? It’s bad for my liver you say? Please tell me more as you smoke that cigarette.

• The office ordered pizza for a meeting. And I sit contemplating my next move. Which is to eat 3 slices, obviously. I proceed to hate myself despite the deliciousness. I try to tell myself it’s okay because it was thin crust.

• Bargaining. The third step of grieving. Next, I will slip into a foodie depression.

• When I get home I eat some biscotti cookies.

• I don’t have my second shake until 11:30 p.m. I just can’t seem to get the scheduling down. I get distracted and I’m like “oh I already ruined my diet today so might as well just not eat!” That’s not good.

Day 20: Thurs 8/31

• I felt much better today. A bit more in control. I have 2 shakes throughout the day, some light snacks, a veggie patty, salad, and risotto (okay it had cheese in it but that was an oversight on my part, don't judge meeeee).

• It was a stressful day at the internship. I have a lot on my mind today and people are moving in and out of house like crazy. A friend calls to tell me she is having health issues. I cry for five minutes in the private phone booth at work for no apparent reason other than being overwhelmed.

• I probably ate something small I wasn’t supposed to at some point today. I can’t remember.

Day 21: Fri 9/1 (CLEANSE DAY 3)

• I hated today. I was very emotional, and it felt like there was drama around every corner. It was a terrible day for a cleanse day but I stuck to it. I watched a friend eat Indian food in front of me and I’m really proud of myself for that.

• Just a bullshit emotional day.

• I’ve lost 10 pounds.

Day 22: Sat 9/2 (CLEANSE DAY 4)

• I’m still emotional and at this point, my eyes just look puffy from all the crying I’ve been doing. I go for a run and call a friend to debrief her on the newest developments in my emotional roller coaster ride.

• I fucking hate not eating.

• I look real skinny today though.

Day 23: Sun 9/3

• I feel happy to be back to shakes today, Cookie’s n’ Cream is pretty bomb and I’m happy it exists.

• I go to a BBQ for my house and feel a little anxious about not being able to find food there that I can eat. I’m relieved to find a veggie burger.

• But I have a few Oreo’s from the dessert table. I’ve had a rough freaking weekend. I deserve this.

Day 24: Mon 9/4

• I wish I knew what went down on this day. I can’t find my notes for this day anywhere. Oh well. Use your imagination!

Day 25: Tues 9/5

• I did aiiight today.

• I did manage to start pinning doughnut places in NYC to my favorite’s tab today during work so that I can visit all of them once my diet ends. Sounds like a great idea.

• I made veggies and a sweet potato for dinner. Veggies go bad so fast I notice…

Day 26: Wed 9/6

• The Hannah’s (the names of the other interns, lol) are making fun of me for my lame shakes at our internship today. Not like in a mean way. I think part of them admire my quasi-dedication to this thing.

• I have a veggie burger for dinner and it’s delicious but I wasn’t supposed to eat the bread (don’t care). I eat some chips and guac and a swig of fancy cognac (that’s alcohol, and no I don’t care) for a friend’s going away party at the house.

• I make scones for the house snack. And eat one.

Day 27: Thurs 9/7

• Made a healthy quinoa breakfast with blueberries, cinnamon, and some other healthy bullshit. It’s actually really good. I know I’ve been grumpy these past few days, but really it’s not so bad.

• I accidentally skip a meal.

• I get home to find that my boyfriend* has made me a bowl of ice cream with blueberries and it makes me feel very special but I also know I’m not supposed to have it. I agree to have several bites and make him eat the rest of it.

• I eat some Ezekiel bread with garlic spread close to 10:30 p.m.

Day 28: Fri 9/8

• My boyfriend* and I stay in all day. We have granola and fruit for breakfast, order Pad Thai, and binge watch Bollywood movies all day.

• I’m feeling down this week, for a lot of reasons unrelated to the diet, but a few caused specifically by the diet.

• I’m getting really angry about having to say no to food. I feels like an open invitation for people to question me when I’m out somewhere. I also don’t think I’ve lost as much weight or fat as I wanted to, which I know is probably because all of my not-so-sneeky food cheating. I’m back up a few pounds from the cleanse day when I was at my lowest weight.

Day 29: Sat 9/9

• I unofficially end my diet a day early by eating peach french toast out with a friend for brunch.

• I get a green tea frappacino later in the day as I kill time before my improv class.

• After class I meet my boyfriend* at the bus station to go to Saugerties, a small town in up state NY where we’ve booked an Airbnb and decide to take a long weekend.

• Our bus makes a stop along the way at a cute diner and we order grilled cheese and fries.

• I have definitely ended my diet and I feel a lot of things about it…

I raise a grilled cheese to YOU, good friend.

Day 30: Sun 9/10

• For breakfast we go to a cute little restaurant in the main strip of town and I order a vegan pancake. I feel a little better about ending the whole thing but the lure of vacation food is too tempting. For lunch we have some chips and queso and for dinner I eat a steak taco and get a cider. Later I drink half a bottle of wine and we watch more Bollywood movies.

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations!

You’re likely well suited to attempt a 30-day adventure just by your shear will and determination to get through this long ass post!

A few last thoughts.

Since ending my 30-day diet I have bounced back pretty closely to where I was before, numbers wise. I’m not happy about this, but I know that I was also going through a tremedously difficult season of life (and still am). I realize now that it took extreme focus to live my life this way for this period of time, even if it wasn’t executed perfectly.

I know deep down I could have done better, I could have been more careful about falling back off once the diet was over. I could have done a lot more sit ups, probably.

But this is life. It’s a process. There are no 30-day magic fixes for our lives, in the health department or otherwise. I’ve decided that this was the first step that I needed to take to achieve a healthy lifestyle and I’m willing to try it again and would truly recommend it for anyone who wants to be healthier in body and mind.

I think there should be a balance though. This thing was no joke. It was extremely strict and as a result I sometimes felt ill-equipt to follow it with precision. But what I was doing before (and started to slip back into after) was the completely wrong way to go about eating.

I had no mindfulness about what was going into my body, nor did I care what it did to me.

And this truly has to change.

I’m still working on it. It might take me another 30 days. Maybe 90. Shit, maybe 365. But I’m conscious of this now and I owe it to myself to keep working.

Not half bad for sneaking contraband food items under the table more than a few times...

*Editor’s note: Yes, it’s true. I was dating someone during this time. And it truly made me a better candidate for success. If your curiousity is killing you because you haven’t talked to me in 2+ months please feel free to call me on the phone, send me a hand written letter, or a carrier pidgeon if you wish to know further.

50 Things You Learn Your First Weeks in New York City

Me: "HEY, I'M WALKIN' H-" Taxicab: *proceeds to move toward me*

I’ve done it, you guys.

I’ve survived. I saw a rat and it didn’t eat me and I can get on the subway without the doors closing on my backpack now! Isn’t this all so exciting?

As hopefully you noticed by now, I moved to New York two weeks ago.

Geaz. I hope you noticed I was gone. That would be really shitty of you to not have noticed that kind of thing.

Anyway.

As the excitement of the first weeks winds down and I find my routine, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what I’ve learned in this short amount of time. It has been the most humbling, exciting, and terrifying 14 days of my life. Here are the biggest lessons I’ve learned so far:

1. Don’t go to Target for produce. Okay, or for anything really. I know this is hard since you’ve been handing 60% of your income to Target for about 15 years now. But really, just avoid Targets, okay?

2. It is easy to convince yourself on your first grocery shopping excursion that you can just take one backpack and fill it up with food and be fine. Please note that by the time you leave the three different grocery stores needed to get adequate food, you will have accumulated one large, human-sized bag in addition to your over-stuffed backpack that you must carry on the subway by yourself hoping to God you don’t recreate that scene from Home Alone where the bag of groceries rips in the street and reveals that he’s not a real grown up after all.

What's that? Do I need it double bagged? Why would I need it double-ohhhhh...now I see. Be gentle. I'm new here. 

3. Sometimes it’s just too damn peopley outside.

4. Other times you will enjoy seeing hundreds of thousands of people and feeling like they are all tiny mysteries with their own stories to tell.

5. But if there’s ever a deadly outbreak of a disease you’re going to absolutely die first because you come into contact with 7 billion people every single day.

6.     Leaving the house without a cellphone charger is pretty much a death sentence.

7.     It’s not impossible to have kids in New York. I’ve seen a single mother of five well-behaved and beautiful children on a subway train at 10 p.m. and it may have been past all of our bedtimes, but they handled it like total champs.

8.     Buzzfeed will not let you upstairs to “see Dan” if you don’t have a legitimate interview.

9.     Most places will not let you upstairs to see “Dan,” “Tim,” or even “Katherine who you emailed that one time” without a legitimate interview.

10.  It’s extremely annoying when people ask you: “So how many interviews have you been on?” and you have to explain to them items 8 and 9.

11.  It’s less emotionally defeating to just email or call to follow up on a job even if your whole life you thought “showing your face” was the quickest way to receive employment and prove your worth in society.

12.  It is entirely possible to sweat through denim jeans. Or denim shirts. Or denim anything. Jesus, why are you wearing denim anything you sociopath, it’s TOO HEAVY A FABRIC.

13.  There are those who can stand up on subway cars without holding onto anything…and then there’s me.

14.  Automated hand dryers are very useful in the event of arriving to a fancy digital media business and learning in the bathroom that you’ve sweat so hard that it looks as though someone has dumped a bucket of water on your back.

15.  If a receptionist has no recollection of your repetitive email correspondence she will ask you if you “want a sticker” to try to get you to leave her desk. If that doesn’t work, a dog will come in and everyone will surround that dog and you will be forced to leave with your stupid sticker because at this point your odds of getting anyone’s attention are negative one billion.

16.  Some subways are air conditioned. Most are not.

17.  New sweat glands that never existed before open up when you move to New York.

18.  Shoes that you could wear comfortably for an entire day now feel like constricting metal death vices filled with shards of glass. Or like an oven mitt that’s been set on fire and then filled with Legos. I’m trying to find a fancy way to describe this and it’s kind of going south but you get the idea: SHOES HURT.

19.  Due to #17, blisters are a thing.

20.  Nexcare Foot Tape will save your life and you will never leave the house without it again.

21.  Sometimes people in Brooklyn double park onto the sidewalk.

22.  It’s not creepy to make silly faces at a baby on the subway as long as you do it for five stops or less.

23.  The Statue of Liberty is not nearly as big as she looks on TV. Plus she’s got some man hands.

24.  Don’t fall for the “Subway Sob Story” which usually begins with a strangely dressed man and the words, “Attention Good People of the L Train –”

25.  While you kind of feel bad for the person in item #24, you find it hard to believe Steve’s girlfriend would have dumped him and kicked him to the curb after learning his 4-year-old daughter was diagnosed with hemorrhoids and is in need of immediate butt surgery.

26.  Headphones are the easiest way to avoid awkward people on the subway.

27.  Even though you easily catalog 50,000 steps a day, you will retain your muffin top. Because cheese and sugary wines are still your best friends and most mortal of enemies.

Why, yes. Yes, our waiter did have a man-bun. How positively cosmopolitan of us.

28.  Listening in to conversations will become your newest and most favorite hobby. *Thick New York accent* “Listen, Jerry. I got this cheeseburger, kay? Are you listening? Kay, I got this cheeseburger. Took a bite. Jerry, I took a bite. Sour.”

29.  Seeing trash on every street becomes normal and doesn’t smell so bad if you just walk faster.

30.  You must resist the urge to scream, “HEY, I’M WALKIN’ HERE” every moment of every day because a taxicab will try to run you down at any opportunity and will not find your witty antics funny nor will they stop their vehicle.

31.  Calling your mother daily is absolutely necessary and actually comforting.

32.  If you don’t drink enough water you might as well go buy a shovel and start digging yourself an early grave.

First day expectation vs. reality. This is the shirt I sweat through from item 14. Why, yes, that is a white shirt. 

33.  Guys on Tinder in New York will offer you to come to their apartment after exchanging approximately five words with you. Or less.

34.  Bars have a $20 minimum on credit cards.

35.  When you see a rat, it is customary to leap off of a park bench and into an oncoming crowd of people.

36.  Sometimes when you go to check out a hip new “start up” in the city, you may come to find that the people at the address listed have never heard of this place and when you try to email the HR department that you’ve been in contact with for several months, that email might bounce back at you and also tell you that this place doesn’t exist.

37.  If you find an apartment under $700 dollars, the neighborhood will have a cop car on every corner and the people scheduled to show you around will conveniently have forgotten that you scheduled to see the place. Take this as a sign and proceed to the nearest subway station and never look back.

38.  Going to an improv class is the quickest way to make new friends who will gladly walk you to your subway station and ride along with you to make sure you reach home safely.

39.  People in New York are not as mean as the reputations that precede them. Each and every one of them went through the same ordeal of finding legitimate employment and housing. They know things that you don’t know. And 99% of them are willing to help you in any way they can.

40.  Your parents and loved ones will question your choice to come here most days, but deep down are supportive and loving and excited that you’re doing this.

41.  You will also question your choice to come here most days. But deep down you want to piss yourself in excitement every time you see a cool building or walk through Central Park.

42.  Google Maps is not great at navigating through Central Park so it’s often necessary to rely on your own (skewed) sense of direction. Or your friend with a flip phone that keeps questioning why Google would take us that way. Or that way. Hey, aren’t we just going in circles?

43.  Ellis Island is absolutely amazing but you must beat the Boy Scouts to get on the Ferry. If you time it just right, you can see the entire museum before noon and leave just as 12,000,000 people are coming off of more and more boats making you wonder if you’ve accidentally entered a time machine and are actually in the year 1901 and in line to get your eyelids pulled on by a scary metal tool to check for trachoma.

44.  You can get into The Museum of Modern Art for free by being really nice to the receptionist and getting her to feel bad for you that you came all the way into the city to give your resumé to Human Resources and they “don’t work on the weekends.” Proceed to wander around MoMa for the next three hours enjoying the air conditioning and getting to see Picasso’s, Pollock’s, and Warhol’s.

45.  It’s completely acceptable to sit at Tompkin’s Square Park listening to Mumford & Son’s song “Tompkin’s Square Park” and cry while you eat your lunch in broad day light because of that one person you miss back at home.

46.  Getting anywhere in under an hour feels too good to be true. And probably is.

47.  It’s easier than ever before to feel inspired in this place. All of a sudden, you are surrounded by creatives, entrepreneur’s, and hustler’s that make you want to be the best version of yourself.

48.  Sometimes you worry if you’ll ever get to that best version of yourself.

49.  Sometimes you fear your own fragility and failure and that the city will eat you alive and sweat you back out.

50.  But deep down to your very core, you know this place will change you, challenge you, and transform you in more ways than you ever thought was possible.

The Sandwich That Changed My Life: Bliss and Where To Find It

I’m not a big sandwich gal.

I mean don’t get me wrong, they’re great. I just can’t seem to finish a whole one. I always find myself dissecting the second half and pulling out the pieces that I like and leaving the other bits mutilated on the plate.

I don’t know why I do that. That’s kind of weird.

Anyway, the reason I tell you this is because a sandwich changed my life.

This past March I spent a week in Spain and a day in England. This was truly a magical week of visiting breathtaking cathedrals, eating yummy Marzipan shaped like cathedrals, and long walks around ancient architecture.

And while this was surely life changing, the most memorable part of this trip was actually something very simple. Eating a sandwich.

Let me provide some context.

After spending an amazing six days with my best friend Kristen and her lovely family (and becoming quite smitten with her 4-year old son), I took off on a plane and landed myself in London, England for a 16-hour layover.

I landed around 9PM and grabbed a cab to my hotel. I still had stars in my eyes from Spain and just hearing the British accents in the airport plastered a giant smile on my face.

The cabbie pulled up (on the opposite side of the street) and asked me where I was headed.

“Hayes!” I said. The town where my hotel was located was called Hayes.

As we drove around and out of the Heathrow Airport, I looked out into the night, my gigantic travel bag sitting next to me like a supportive friend. It was fun feeling like a world traveler. Me and this bag had seen a lot of amazing things the past week.

We arrived at The easyHotel and I pulled 30 Pounds from my worn Wells Fargo envelope for my cab driver.

When I stepped into my hotel room I felt like I was actually in Tokyo, Japan. It was like a little capsule and the bathroom door looked like the entrance to a spaceship. It wasn’t extravagant or expensive. It was simple and clean and would do the job nicely.

In the early morning I showered in the spaceship and took a cab to Windsor to see the Windsor Castle. It wasn’t open for tours until 9:30AM but because I had to check out of the hotel by 10AM I decided to go early. Plus they didn’t allow bags. My travel pack could not accompany me on this adventure.

So, there I was at 7:30 in the morning, stepping out of another cab in front of a castle. It was chilly and I’d only packed a light sweater, but the glow of the sun peaking out from behind the castle brought warmth to my soul.

I mean kind of. It was still really fucking cold.

I walked all around Windsor, seeing the castle from all angles. I took “The Long Walk” down from the castle and contemplated life. Tomorrow I’d be back in my classroom with my students. I loved my kids, but I was already feeling depressed about checking my school email, lesson planning, and grading things I should have graded weeks ago.

But for now I could just walk. Down this cold and open path. It was too early for tourists. It was just me, my footsteps, and a long walk.

Like really long. I must have walked a mile down that thing. (Editor’s note: The Long Walk is 2.65 miles or 4.26 kilometers if you’re British)

I walked back to the front of the castle, meandering down side streets and getting a little lost (it’s okay, Ma. I have a smart phone!). I got back to a coffee shop, ordered an English Breakfast tea cuz’ that sounded like a proper English thing to do, and booked an Uber to pick me up (cuz’ British people like Uber too).

When I got back to the hotel I packed up my human-sized bag, checked out, strapped it to my back, and headed down the street. I didn’t know where I was going or how I’d get there. It didn’t really matter. I still had a few hours to kill before I needed to be at the airport.

So I walked some more. And some more. And some more.

I didn’t stress myself out about where I was or where I needed to be.

But I was getting hungry from all this walking.

At this point I could go for a beer, but it was still only noon and I wanted to have my wits about me maneuvering the Heathrow Airport.

This is where the sandwich comes in.

I bet you were wondering. It’s been a very long build up. Get it. Because I was walking The Long Walk.

Okay, sorry. Back to the sandwich.

I decided to walk myself into a little grocery store to find some food. It was like a 7-Eleven except classier.

I was feeling rather European so I found a baguette, some cheese, prosciutto, and a handful of mustard packets. And a Red Bull. Because that bag is like 40 pounds (and I mean weight not price) and I’d easily walked 10 miles (16.093 kilometers) by now.

I brought my goodies to a park bench by an open courtyard and began to assemble my sandwich.

I sat there in that small courtyard and ate that whole sandwich, my bag and I taking up the entire park bench.

And as weird as this is about to sound: that was the happiest moment of my life.

It was the purest bliss I’d ever experienced. It was so simple. I was eating a sandwich. Granted, the fact that I was in a beautiful part of the world didn’t hurt, but I wasn’t taking pictures at Big Ben or any other tourist site. I wasn’t hitting the town for an exciting live band or salsa dancing with a sexy foreigner.

I was just eating a sandwich.

Time stopped being time. It was just place. Here on this bench with a mouthful of cheap bread and cheese with my travel bag sitting next to me quietly.

I stopped worrying about my upcoming existential crisis of quitting my job. I wasn’t looking at my phone. I wasn’t sending cute travel snapchats to my friends or panicking about how much money I had left in my little envelope.

I was just there. Truly in the moment. Slobbering all over myself with a giant smile on my face for absolutely no one to see but myself.

Transcendence. Mindfulness. Bliss. Whatever you want to call it, I was doing it.

For the first time ever I realized that happiness doesn’t just happen to you, you have to make it happen yourself. In every small and insignificant moment.

I’d traveled the world, seen beautiful things, yet I was still content to stress myself out about things that I couldn’t control. I felt burdened by my thoughts, feelings, and circumstance. And in that moment I let go. I let go of everything and allowed myself to be present in the simplest of events.

It’s not easy.

I’m not saying the next time you eat a sandwich you can’t transcend like I did, hey, maybe you eat a lot of bomb-ass sandwiches. But it might not happen that way for you. Everyone is different.

But I do know that bliss and happiness is possible. In the everyday and tiny moments that we can consciously choose to be present for and enjoy.

So show up for your life. Know when to pay attention to the small details and when to let yourself be in the moment. Travel the world and eat as many sandwiches as you can.

You only have this one life.

"2007 called, they want their jumping pictures back."