It is inevitable that we will compare ourselves to others. I try not to (unsuccessfully), because 1) we all start in different places, and our progress must be measured by not where we are now, but how far we’ve come, and 2) It’s just stupid.
Anyway, isn’t it impossible not to compare yourself to those Olympic athletes who have dedicated their lives to their sport? There I am on my pillow-laden couch, watching Michael Phelps, with a wing span of Idaho, and Simone Biles, who is like one of those bungee rides at an amusement park, achieve their wildest dreams, and I think to myself, “SLACKER.”
Actually, at my ripe old age, what I really think is more like “ouch.” Just kidding, my true thoughts are “if you can do that, I can clean my fucking mess of an office. I can clear out my hoarder-ish third floor of years of clutter.”
I wouldn’t get a gold medal, but damn it, I would feel as shiny as one.
*the gratitude-a-thon 