The Look

I read somewhere that, for a better chance of achieving personal goals, it’s best not to tell anyone.
Screw that.
I’m like, tell anyone who will listen.

I’ve told people because it’s important to me, and because it’s what I’m focusing on at the moment, and because I’m excited. I’ve told people because fitness is what we have in common, because writing is what we have in common, or because we have nothing in common and large scale goal planning is just something to talk about. I’ve told people to fill up the silence or add to the noise or move the conversation away from complaining about the weather. I’ve told people for the express purpose of asking for their help. Sometimes I talk for no reason and the plan just kind of slips out by accident.

I tell people because there a certain amount of accountability when an idea is shared with the universe. The commitment is to yourself only, sure, but to have people innocently ask ‘Hey, any new recipe ideas for me?’ or ‘Can I join you for walks this week? I need to get off the couch,’ or even just ‘I didn’t see a blog this month, did I miss it?’ can provide a little bit of focus and make you realise that actually, other people care about you and they value what you’re doing.

There have been quite a few people that have said ‘good luck’ and ‘what a cool idea’ and ‘what website was the plan on?’ there have been a select few people that have said, ‘holy crap, Batman in a petticoat, I’m going to do something like that, too.’ Maybe not in so many words but you get the picture and it’s awesome sauce nonetheless.

And lots of people look at me funny. I can’t even describe it, it’s a mix between disbelief and confusion and even a little bit of disgust, for some reason. It’s clear that they think I can’t do it. It’s clear that they think what I’m planning is too big, too hard, too much, just “too” in general. And it’s clear, in some people, that they are taking bets with themselves to see how long it takes me to fail. They might not even think they are thinking these things. Maybe they think it’s pity – ‘oh, poor Tiffany, setting her sights too high like usual.’ But I see it.

Why wish that one someone? This is myself we are talking about here, do they not think I’m worth it?

On one hand, those looks put me off telling people. I literally and figuratively don’t need that negativity in my life. This plan is challenging enough in itself, I don’t need people betting against me, waiting for the day to give themselves the smug little ‘I told you so’ smile. So it would be easier for me to not tell them, to just keep it a secret or only tell a few people who I know are success focused and optimistic by nature.

Because the truth is, I might fail. And that’s a bit scary to know that already, only two weeks in. So it would make sense to surround myself with positive, glowing conversation about the plan and pretend the other doesn’t exist.

But on the other hand, I realise that those funny looks are a motivation in itself. Anyone who knows me when I’m tired, hungry, pre-menstrual or passionate about something knows that I’m argumentative and I hate being wrong. Well, I’m passionate about this plan (and those other factors will make an appearance, too). So I’m going to do everything I can to prove to everyone – myself most importantly of all – that this plan is well within my capabilities and I will be a better person because of it.

The more people look at me with that confused, disgusted, disbelieving face, the more I’ll smile and say ‘well I’m going great so far and it’s just going to get easier!’ The more people talk about the obstacles I’ll face, the more motivation there is to step, to read, to focus and to write.  I get off on people telling me I am wrong and I can’t do it – just fucking watch me.  

What I actually want, in my heart of hearts, is for them to forget that there even is a plan, and for them to start thinking, ‘That Tiffany, she’s got a pretty cool, healthy life’ when they think about me. Because that’s what I want for myself, too.