If it’s true that stress hormones make you fat, it’s no wonder I’ve had trouble with my weight all these years. I am the most stressed out person, and usually for no good reason.
Years ago, coworker Dennis said to me, “It’s strange that we’re so stressed out all the time. What would we do if we were heart surgeons?”
We were not heart surgeons, of course. We were editors. “Quick, I need a new promo for the homepage, STAT!” doesn’t have the same ring to it as anything you might yell out in an operating room on a medical drama.
Still, the pressure of constantly trying to make things perfect — accurate, typo-free, hilarious if possible — does wear on a person. All the editors and writers I know are completely zonked on stress, to the point where if we don’t have something to obsess over, we’ll manufacture it. Difficult to say which came first, this tendency to freak out, or the job that encourages it, but either way, here we are.
I’ve been making real efforts to calm down during this. For example, this morning, UPS called me at 7 a.m. I’m waiting for a delivery of some physical therapy stuff that I ordered from Amazon, a foam roller and some weights, and for some reason, they can’t get it together to deliver it to me. It’s been a nightmare of calling and tweeting and trying to explain apartment buildings to people who claim to be living in New York. And now, the 7 a.m. phone call to “resolve” the situation, complete with mumbled phone number and an unhelpful message.
But even as I write that, I realize how silly it is. It’s a nightmare, really? Tell that to people in Yemen.
“Sorry about your village and all, but my giant foam roller is missing in action!”
You see what I’m saying. There is no more first world problem than an Amazon Prime shipment gone awry. I’m trying to keep the small stuff in perspective and take deep cleansing breaths, but old habits die hard. I’m starting to think that if I manage to make it through this diet, the next project I should take on is creating a low-stress life. I’m just afraid that would mean burning all my earthly possessions and going off into the wilderness in a loin cloth. I’m afraid of nature and I have a thyroid condition, which means I get cold easily. I just can’t see myself embracing the loin-cloth lifestyle.
Image: program witch/Flickr