Is it really necessary for us to be able to read every depressing story of tragedy from every single corner of the world, every second of every day?

What is the benefit? People getting ideas to copy-cat crimes that occurred 2,000 miles away? A disproportionate fear that these same things could befall you at any moment despite the statistical likelihood of them happening? A desensitization to every tragedy covered by the news?

Sure there are some stories that are major and need to be covered. If a child has been kidnapped and there is evidence to suggest the culprit is in your neighborhood or headed your way, it behooves us as a society to be on the look-out. There are some matters of national security that may be pressing in other instances that make full-coverage a must… but, do we really need to hear heart-break after heart-break?

Tragic things happen daily, and many times there is nothing we as a population can do to comfort those involved. Reading, horrified and sick with empathy, every single story of woe across the nation and globe, is actually very counter-productive to a healthy society. Think about it. Is it really constructive to bombard society day after day with pictures of car wrecks, mangled children, gun-shot victims, and neglected elderly? What does it accomplish? Why do we feel the need to throw criminals into national spot lights, and stoke devastation until the victims cannot even go outside their houses for fear of being attacked by journalists looking for a new interview? What does society gain by immobilizing its citizens with unrealistic fears?

Well, it seems like what we get is a nation full of distrusting neighbors, cops who shoot unarmed men looking for help, kids who aren’t allowed to play in their yards, helicopter parents, a misunderstanding of immigrants and foreigners, tragedy fatigue, or apathy towards crime and injustice as a result of seeing it sooooo much through the lens of a camera, with major media playing it up like it is some great source of entertainment.

Is this the kind of world we want to live in?

Tonight at our fitness class, we did 70 push-ups.

Let me be clear that by saying, “we did 70 push-ups,” what I mean is that the instructor counted off 7 sets of 10 push-ups throughout the class and that I successfully completed 12 solid push-ups that are worthy of being called such, finished 20 shitty half-ass ones, and during the other 38 I held a plank position while tears silently rolled down my cheeks.

I am woefully out of shape, but it isn’t my fault… Really! No, no it isn’t the kids’ fault either! Let me tell you a little story about STRESS!

You see, this week I weighed myself for the first time in quite a while. And although the scale hasn’t moved much since the last time, I did remind myself of what my weight was a year and a half ago and allowed myself a tiny celebration in my head. You see, the scale has been gradually trending downward since I quit being a stressed out, over-worked, enraged crazy person working for corporate America. It has taken me 18 months to lose 8 pounds, and I still have 6 pounds to go before I am back to my pre-corporate America weight. It took me half the time to lose TWICE this amount of weight after my last pregnancy.

Yep! You heard me right! Stress is worse for your body than carrying another human being around inside of you. It’s true! I mean, I’m no doctor or biologist or anything… So maybe I should instead say that it is my personal opinion and experience that stress is worse for you than pregnancy (barring some kind of medical condition or something you may have that makes pregnancy extra-dangerous for you).

So, I will endure the push-ups and crying until I get back down to my pre-corporate America weight. And I will wake up at 5am tomorrow morning because that bitch (Yesterday Me) has me down for another early morning work-out tomorrow.

 

Morning Me: It is still dark outside, what the hell? Why did you decide I should go to the gym at 5am today? Seriously, what have I ever done to you?

Yesterday Me: What? You keep bitching about how you need to get in shape! I’m helping!

Morning Me: Well, yeah but I told you I would work out in the evenings. Like, that has been the plan all along. Sleep in a little longer, and work-out before bed time. Don’t play stupid! You know this.

Yesterday Me: Oh, Oh yeah like that ever works out. You have cancelled on your own plans the last 13.5 weeks in a row. By the time 8:30pm rolls around, you have a list of excuses a mile long. The other day you did make it to the basement to put a DVD in, then went and ate half a pint of ice cream by yourself you lazy asshole! So don’t act like I’m the one being unreasonable, here!

Morning Me: Oh, well that’s just perfect! Maybe if you would quit having so much wine before bed, I wouldn’t have to be so hung-over all the damn time! Did you ever think of that?!?

Yesterday Me: You know what, just quit being a whiney bitch and get on the treadmill. Get sweaty, and thank me later. OK? I mean do you even hear yourself? You are so ungrateful.

Morning Me: I’m just saying… if you would quit watching reruns of The New Girl and Malcolm in the Middle on Netflix at a reasonable hour, I wouldn’t have to be such a hag every morning.

Yesterday Me: Whatever. Quit being a loser. I’m probably also going to have to listen to a bunch of bitching from Evening Me tonight because her stupid legs and arms are going to be sore from me signing her up for that kick-boxing class.

Morning Me: Oh, yeah. She is going to be pissed. Have fun with that.

Yesterday Me: You’re ridiculous. Just, start. Again.