So, my overall, hmm, concept, for this year (I don’t want to call it a goal or resolution, because I’ve met me before, and I hear I just don’t stick to those things) is to do more. But, in my pursuit of more over the course of this year? I’m going to need less. Fewer rules, self-limitations and reasons why I can’t.

So I’m letting you (and me) know that I can.

I can’t swear on my blog. Because someone may be offended. Because I never see anyone else doing it. Because swear words are bad, mmmkay?

Fuck that. Alex’s resolution post made me pause and think about how I speak/act/etc. in real life vs. my blog. It’s pretty much the same, don’t get me wrong–I’m cheap, goofy and irrelevant–but I tend to not speak in lists and I do tend to swear. So you know what I can do? Swear on my blog.

I can’t take a vacation. Because I’m training for a figure competition. Because I should save my money. Because I don’t want to use the PTO.


Fuck that, I’m going to Jamaica. I can travel.

I can’t start projects that will take more than a week to finish. Because I won’t finish them. Because it’s a waste of time if I don’t. Because I don’t have the patience.

Fuck that. I’ve started knitting an afghan and listening to a 33-hour long book on tape. I can finish both these things. Or I can not finish them, and have fun in the meantime without stressing over the future.

I can’t dye my hair purple. Because I’m too old. Because can I figure-compete with purple hair? Because what if I can’t go back to platinum later? Because what if I don’t like it?


Fuck that. Purple hair dye, you and me have a date this weekend. I can have funky hair.

I can’t be creative. I don’t have the time. I have no idea what to make. Arts and crafts are messy.

Fuck that. I’m breaking out the oil paints this weekend and signing up for that pottery class, even if it’s a 45-min drive to get there. I can make giant messes.

I can’t eat this, that or the other thing, if it isn’t part of my nutrition schedule.


Fuck that. As if Sunday’s dinner of Bisquick pancakes, a pan of almond-butter bars and “some” champagne didn’t prove it, I can enjoy an unbalanced meal, and I can do so whenever I please.

I can’t buy a sofa. Because I can’t find exactly what I want. Because I don’t have a truck/means of sofa-transportation. Because sofas are expensive.

Fuck that. No, wait, don’t. I still probably won’t buy a sofa any time soon…

What’s a self-imposed limitation you’d like to say “fuck that” to?