At yesterday’s blog post, I discussed that under my present eating system, I refrain from eating food when attending dinner with friends, rather waiting until reaching home to nourish my body. I justified this behaviour by stating that ladies should be elegant and that nourishing in public is not elegant. There is one caveat to this explanation which I failed to mention: it is with regard to me, myself, and I.

I judge only myself.

This is my standard, not a universal standard. The friends with whom I hold company? Oh yes, they eat. And they do enjoy it so! My not eating? It does not bother my friends. In fact, they think that I am interesting and weird, just as I would hope! My scenario is like a rational alcoholic who enjoys the company of friends who drink, yet the drinking bothers the alcoholic not. What my friends eat, how they eat, etcetera, is something that I do not notice. I notice only the conversation. They joy. The energy. The purpose of my dinnertime dates is to nourish my friendships, not my body. Each lady is different. If one desires to eat heartily with friends, so be it. And in the other sense, if a man desires to refrain from eating because he seeks the elegance that I seek, so be it. I care not. And I judge you not for living under moral values that make you happy.

Dining at a restaurant, for dinner, in its most beautiful form, summons a 1940s aesthetic of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart, of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, of George Sanders and Zsa Zsa Gabor sipping pink champagne whilst musicians entertain to ballgown-wearing, jewel-adorned ladies, to tuxedo-wearing, hard-working men. This is not to insinuate that the women are not hard-working. It is only stating that at dinnertime, I prefer to be pretty rather than to be concerned with business. Again, my definition of pretty might not be yours. What I have described, to me, is glamorous. Dazzling. Exciting. Furthermore, obviously, this dinner scenario is not how I experience the world, as this way of life has long since passed, but I can do what exists in my power to recreate that which is fabulous to me. Why not? Why do something halfway? I have proven that by living without concern for what others think of me, I have achieved the most grandest state of happiness that I’ve ever felt in my life.

Last week, eating seaweed with Becky, we opened our fortune cookies. Of course I did not eat my cookie, but extracting and reading the fortune was fun. It read, “Either you can or you can’t. Either way you are right.” Becky said, “That is a perfect fortune for you.” She is right. I’m on or off. Hot or cold. Black or white. I do not exist in the middle, as middle is evil. Becky continued, “If you didn’t live in this manner, you would combust.” She knows that if I don’t throw my all into something, in an organised, thoughtful, passionate, kind manner, then I am prone to falling into chaotic patterns. This is why I announced to my friends, at our last dinner meeting, that I would enforce my dinnertime rule and not order food. Why? Because I know that if I were to eat, as I have in the past simply to look “normal,” I would be mad upon arriving home, knowing that I could not enjoy my decadent midnight dinner as planned. To be mad, especially about food, the most raw part of sustaining the human body, is not desirable. My organisation is a very interesting characteristic of me. One prone to categorising behaviours might define my way as “a living order disorder.” Ha.

I filmed a little yoga video for this morning’s Instagram post, and it reminded me of when I could not achieve lotus. We’re talking last year when I discovered Ashtanga. Stationed seven years into studying yoga, I could not do lotus. I avoided it at all costs because it frustrated me. But with Ashtanga, I had no choice but to try hard because it is integral to practicing Ashtanga at its highest, most definitive level. One day? I got it. At this moment of achieving the pose, I decided to practice it often, to increase the openness in my hips to explore the open hip postures such as leg-behind-the-head. Thus, for one month, at nighttime, I slept in lotus pose on my stomach. Most would consider this as completely crazy, but it is the project that helped with achievement of my great hip opening. Here is this morning’s clip. This is how I slept, every night for one month last year. This supports my declaration on that I live intensely. Fiercely!

Each part of my day is a ritual. Even bathing. I become so excited about showering and cleaning my body followed by painting it with delicious Almond Heaven body butter. By combining my wet hair. By spritzing two dashes of Chanel No 5 onto my neck, one onto my wrist. By examining the bones underneath of my skin, namely the breastbone and hipbones. I enjoy this. And then I become excited by moving onto the next ritual. If I am not excited about a ritual, then I will not do it.

(Note: I do not enjoy eating almonds, as I prefer macadamias and cashews, but I enjoy almonds on my body).

I know that my blog is used for psychological case study at a university in North Carolina (it was previously mentioned in the comments section at my old space), so because of this, also to make my point, I share the following video of me, from 1985, exhibiting the same excitement that I feel every moment of the day in my heart. The video begins with three-year old me showing complete disinterest in a baking set received at Christmas followed by the PIZZAZZ. By the pizzazz and excitement as related to the next gift. It is so funny! I think it is important to understand that my dynamic has never changed. I’ve always lived like this. And seeing this little girl and her black and white passion makes me so very proud.

Thank you to Peloton for helping me to exhaust the short change of energy that existed in my life for so long. Even though I was living excitedly, I knew that something was missing. I didn’t know what I needed until I found it. Seven months and three days later, on the verge of my three hundredth ride, and I am the happiest girl on Earth. Peloton was a missing link.

In this post, I have described some of the rituals of a lady. Of this lady. I impose my rituals and values upon nobody else. I simply write about them because someone might relate, and it’s nice to be understood. We’re all different. Unique. And amazing. Do the real version of you.

What are your rituals, and do you love them?

Namaste.