Jungle Trekking and Conquering my First New Year’s Resolution

Matt and I celebrated New Year’s Eve on a small, tropical island in Southern Thailand called Koh Phi Phi Don. This island is most famously known for being where Leo DeCaprio shot the film “The Beach”. The resort we stayed at was quaintly rustic with no hot water and no electricity from 6 am – 6 pm. No screens on the windows, either, which mean lots of tropical critters coming in to say hello. (My favorite was a giant monitor lizard who lived under our bungalow. I named him Pete.)

Our New Year’s Eve started off with a huge Thai buffet and Thai dancers. As we stuffed our face with yummy things like No Name Chicken and curried spring rolls, the dancers gyrated against the sinking pink and orange sunset.

As the hours ticked by, we met two sweet gals from Los Angeles, Veronica and Stephanie. We also were joined by two french friends we had met earlier on the day. We all counted down to midnight and then danced in the waves as fireworks sparkled around us. It was magical and easily the best New Year’s Eve I had ever had! We made it till 1 AM and then Matt and I meandered back to our little hut to snooze and pack for tomorrow’s next location.

Did I mention one of my biggest new year’s resolutions, beyond the big fat obvious one, is to exercise more? Well…whoever controls the plot in my life definitely found a creative way to give me a nice strong start on that resolution.

Picture 5The island we were on is so remote that long tail boats pick you up for a 45 minute ride across the water to the pier. When you get off the boat, you have to walk through the surf to get on shore. We had booked a private boat with Veronica and Stephanie from the night before, because our last boat ride was scarily crammed with people in a very choppy surf and we wanted a more relaxing ride. When it came time for our boat, the owner told us the weather had changed and we could no longer take a boat off the island. The waves were too high and it would be unsafe. We would have to walk through the jungle instead.

I heard a big sigh in my head, because I had also woken up that morning with a raging head cold. But there was no other way- the four of us, dressed for reclining on the beach (swimsuits, sarongs and flip flops) would be hiking the “easy 30 minute” trail to get us to our pier as our suitcases had already left in an earlier morning’s boat. Thankfully, Matt had an extra pair of running shoes that I changed into – one of the few times in my life I was thankful for my gargantuan size 11 feet.

Still in relatively good spirits.

Still in relatively good spirits.

We started up the first path which was straight up a jungle mountainside, and I thought to myself, “You have no choice about this. If you want to leave this island, you need to do this. Oh and btw? If you get hurt, you’re SOL because there’s no medical assistance on the island. Have fun!” Somehow knowing all this propelled me to just charge ahead, and by the time we’d hiked 45 minutes, I was feeling very proud of how well I’d been doing. I was soaked with sweat and out of breath, but despite the physical discomfort, the views were amazing and my endorphins had kicked in, probably at the thought of doing something totally dangerous in a foreign country.

Then, stuff started to go down hill. Several different paths converged and the signs were misleading. We started up one path, only to get eaten alive by mosquitoes, and we cringed as we slapped them off of our legs and their blood smeared on our skin. I definitely regretted not getting malaria tablets at that moment- because if I get malaria next week, I won’t be shocked at all.

Picture 8

Clearest sign in the world, right?

We went back down the path, realizing it wasn’t leading us to the ocean. After a few more missteps, up and down various muddy paths, we finally made it to the gorgeous view point- which we thought signified the end of our trek. Here I am looking relieved, as after two hours of hot, sweaty, itchy hiking, I was jazzed up to be done.

Picture 9

Feeling victorious at the top of the Tonsai Viewpoint. Little did I know was was on the other side…

How do you like that bird? Yes, it's true, even sweet lil old me *snort* has a sassy side.

How do you like that bird? Yes, it’s true, even sweet lil old me *snort* has a sassy side.

And then we saw the stairs. Thousands of stairs, very steep, leading straight down into the city. It was at this point that I started to feel stabby. My cold meds had worn off, and each step I took caused a surge of snot to bubble up in my head. The stairs were in direct 90 degree sun, with 88% humidity. They kept going and going and going and going….and just as I though I might faint on the last set, the stairs stopped, and we wandered through the bowels of tonsai pier, past the shops selling tiny wooden elephants and cheap sarongs, past the fruit vendors with pink juicy watermelon and pineapple shaped like stars. All I wanted to do was sit down and die, but we had to keep walking- quickly. We had ten minutes to make our ferry.

We finally got on the ferry, where we discovered there was no air conditioning. So for the next two hours we sat on sticky vinyl seats, showering in our own sweat, trying to wipe the dirt and mosquito bug pieces off of our legs. It was all very adventurous, as you can see. So clearly – on New Year’s Day, I gave my resolution one hell of a start- with a 3 hour up hill jungle hike, complete with killer stairs. I rock, and now all of my future work outs should be a little less tortuous- because I’ll have the right clothes, the right shoes, air conditioning, and a lack of blood-sucking creatures clinging to my legs.

Did you have any fun new year’s adventures??

I can be a mean girl.

Greetings, friends! I can be a mean girl. Who, me? Yes, me! Read to find out why.

Y’all know I can be a little bit blunt. Sometimes, I lack a filter. It’s one of those traits of mine that’s either endearing or obnoxious, but as Lady Gaga says, I was born this way! Yesterday, my delightful friend Kelly came over for dinner. We were discussing Victoria’s Secret, and I complained that their bras don’t fit “fat-asses like me.”. “That is SO mean!”, she said. “What? That they don’t make my size?”, I asked, chewing my meatloaf nonchalantly. “No, that you would call yourself a fat ass! Even if you think it’s funny, how would you feel if I called you a fat ass?” I told her I’d kick her butt, and then I realized she’s right. It gave me some food for thought for a minute, until today when I blurted out that among the land of petite people (Asia), I would probably be a “large commodity”. My husband again pointed out that I was being mean to myself, and I thought, “Shucks! I AM being mean to myself.” Mean is not a trait I’d say I embody. I’m always the person who makes an effort to talk to the shy, to hold the door open, to compliment a new outfit. Sometimes I’m so nice it makes me angry with myself. But… Kelly pointed out that I’m a mean girl. To myself.

I am confident and pretty and usually feel attractive. So why am I calling myself mean names?

I usually consider myself extraordinarily positive with my self esteem. I know I’m attractive, beautiful even, and usually when I look in the mirror I feel good about myself – about my natural blonde curls, or my milky skin, or even the fine fringe of eyelashes that line my baby blues. Sadly, the negative thoughts I do have are always about my body. I’m always too big, or too fat, or thinking I’ll stand out because of my size. I’m a little bit early for New Year’s resolutions, but here’s one of the first for 2013 – Curb the negative self talk. It doesn’t help anybody and it certainly doesn’t make anyone laugh like I had hoped it would (ok, maybe my brother and sister laugh, but that’s only because we’ve made a national pastime about joking about our weight). Kelly and Matt are totally right – even if I make fun of myself in “humor”, somewhere, that message resonates with my brain and makes me feel even worse about it.

Rubens painted all of his ladies as full-figured and curvaceous. I was born in the wrong era!

So, the next time I complain about my rubenesque stature, I need to use words that are kinder. Not fat, not fat ass, not fatty, not huge, not gargantuan. More like, voluptuous, curvy, plus-sized, rubenesque, full-figured. Because even though my body may not fit into the ideal of what looks “pretty”, my body is pretty. I know this in my heart, and I need to make my thoughts match my mouth in the most positive way possible.

So let’s discuss – I’m sure I’m not the only female out there who has shamefully caught herself in negative self-talk. Do you ever find yourself dissing your body? Men, how about you?