Courtney Confessions: Vices Edition
I define a vice as anything someone knows is bad for them but continues to do anyway. It’s a flagrant disregard for any potential health or moral repercussions that may arise as a result of participating in said activity because you simply cannot resist. As a married woman who is both very health and money conscious, I am happy to report that none of my vices include the heavy hitters like sexual promiscuity, gambling or drugs. For me, my vices are more tame (or boring), but they are vices nonetheless.
I have a weakness for diet energy drinks. Isn’t that disgusting? I totally justify drinking them by telling myself, “Well, there’s little to no calories or sugar in this. It’s totally fine.” Never mind the caffeine and artificial junk that still pervade every can with the potential to erode both my stomach and teeth (my dentist’s wife reads this blog and she’s probably cringing right now). What’s even more disgusting—I love the taste. I, a girl who considers herself to have a somewhat of a refined palate, sings the praises of a drink that tastes like liquid sweet tarts. Luckily, these puppies are rather EXPENSIVE and I rarely buy them. I typically reserve my love of Sugar Free Red Bull and Monster Lo-Carb Energy for long road trips that go well into the night, but I bought my first Diet Red Bull in almost a year a few weeks ago when I couldn’t keep my eyes open after a 9 mile run. I drank the whole in 5 minutes and was jacked like a spider monkey for hours. “I DON'T SEE WHAT THE BIG DEAL IS. ENERGY DRINKS HAVE LITTLE EFFECT ON ME!” I shouted to Clayton as I vacuumed the rug for the fifteenth time that day.
I’m a Nervous Nelly, plain and simple. Anyone in my family would quickly tell you that I have a very anxious personality and I’m so used to feeling that way all the time, I’m not even aware of it. However, my body carries some pretty telling evidence that I am a ball of constant nervous energy. My thumbs are a constantly bleeding, raw mess. Though most people wouldn’t consider it a vice, that's certainly the term I would use to describe my propensity to pick at the skin around my nail cuticles. It’s a terrible habit, but I can’t help myself. Sitting in rush hour traffic triggers an urge to nervously nibble at the side of my thumbs. I even remember sitting at job interviews with my hands under the table so my potential employers wouldn’t see me furiously picking away. Last week I was under a lot of stress and my cuticles STILL haven’t fully recovered from the hell I put them through.
Perhaps my most dangerous vice is worrying. It’s almost like I rely on it to keep me sane (though it oftentimes has the completely opposite affect). I’ve even gone so far as to event new things to worry about, just so my brain has something to keep it occupied. Tying into my perpetual anxiousness, constantly finding something to worry or fret over is so deeply engrained into my person that I rarely can pinpoint when I’m actually doing it. I think the very first time I managed to shut my brain off completely (though temporarily) was the first time I took a hot yoga class and winding down our session with savasana, a final relaxation pose. Feeling dangerously close to nodding off, I felt my mind slipping into blankness. Although the silence was harmonious and I wanted to relish the feeling of peace, it lasted for all of 60 seconds before I got bored.
Other vices that clearly need no further explanation:
- Diet Coke (my kryptonite)
- cake (obviously)
- frosting or icing of any kind
- falling in love with puppies I can't have at the pet store
- French fries
- road rage
- low-brow reality TV (Honey Boo Boo, anyone?)