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The relationship between confidence and success

Confidence is the companion of success.

— Author unknown

A while ago, I downloaded an app that spouts inspirational quotes on demand. I don’t look at it every day — but some days I read more than one. It just depends on what I’m doing that day, if I have time and if I feel in particular need of motivation.

On Saturday, the nugget above was one of three it served up for me. For some reason, this one just resonated with me — big time.

It didn’t take long for me to work out why: For me, success and confidence really do go hand in hand. It’s almost impossible to have one without the other.

Success builds confidence. That’s the way it works for me, at least. When I’m feeling out of control, I have no confidence in my ability to succeed — and so I don’t. (Sometimes I don’t even bother to try. More than once, that attitude has made me think “screw it. Today’s shot. Might as well keep eating.”)

But let me do just one thing right — choose water over soda, journal every bite, have a big ol’ salad for lunch — and I start to believe I can do those things every time. If I think I can, then I’m more likely to actually do it. Thus the success breeds confidence.

Just something to think about today and every day.

Blast from the Past, Part 2

When I was doing Atkins the first time, I started writing a nonfiction book about being low-carb and loving it. The other day, I stumbled on these pages again. They read a lot like blog posts, so I thought, “Why not share them like they are?”

Enjoy!

Over the years, I’ve tried to diet many times.

In high school, when I wasn’t following Mom’s NutriSystem plan, I’d just plain skip lunch. (I liked saving my lunch money for things that tasted better than school lunches, like Hostess Twinkies and cupcakes.) Occasionally, I’d take a Slim-Fast bar to school with me and eat that at lunchtime. (Trust me, their taste has greatly improved over the years.)

In college, I was too busy working and studying to worry too much about dieting. Oh, who am I kidding? I was too busy eating — and enjoying every bite — to care how much weight I’d put on.

In addition to the not-so-healthy lunches and brunches, there were breakfasts of PopTarts and Dr Pepper and late-night pizza snacks. Wednesday night was pizza night at my college newspaper office. Our adviser ordered pizza to feed all of us hard-working editor types while we worked to put out that week’s paper.

A few years after graduation, I tried to lose weight. Though I never actually joined Weight Watchers and went to weekly meetings, I subscribed to the magazine and tried out a lot of the recipes. I got a yearly planner in which to keep track of what I ate, how many glasses of water I drank and how much I exercised (which was never very much).

I’d stick with the program for a while, but never long enough to see impressive results. Something would happen to make me cheat on my diet — like I’d get tried of starving myself. I’d get hungry — and a salad with a boneless, skinless (flavorless) chicken breast wasn’t going to fill me up. Before I knew it, I’d be out enjoying a burger and onion rings, or a nice slice — or two or four — of pizza.

And then? Well, I’d blown it. Once again, I’d rather eat what I liked — damn the nutrition content — and be full than starve myself to be thin.

Again and again, I’d follow the pattern: Diet until I started to feel like I was starving, then start eating everything I could get my hands on. (The chocolate-nut brownies from the vending machine at work were a particular favorite of mine.)

“Lose weight and exercise more” was my standing New Year’s Resolution.

Looking back, I wonder if I might have been a binge eater. No purging, though: Just eating a lot more than I should have. Spaghetti was particularly good at inducing me to overeat. I’d inhale a heaping plateful and then decide I wanted more, even though I didn’t need it. Halfway through that second plate, I’d be stuffed — but by then I had to finish it, because there wasn’t enough left to save.

God forbid I just throw it away. I hated to waste perfectly good food — unless, of course, it was a salad. Seems I had no qualms about buying produce and letting it moulder in the fridge.

I still buy veggies and end up not eating them before they go bad.

Hmm … 30-plus (now 40) years in this body and I’m still trying to figure out how the brain works.

Go figure!

More to come …

The long-awaited (by me) Monday Night Raw post

On Monday I did something I never thought I’d do: Went to a professional wrestling event … and loved every minute of it.

When I was younger, my grandma watched wrestling. I didn’t understand it — and probably poked a little fun at her. Even in the face of criticism, she maintained she watched “for the stories.”

Then I met the Boyfriend, who’s been a fan for years. Eventually, he got me hooked. Now, I look forward to “the stories” myself.

So when I learned, via a Make A Wish press release emailed to me at work, that “Monday Night Raw” was going to be in Phoenix, I knew I had to go. We didn’t make it to Wrestlemania when it was in Phoenix a couple of years ago, so I was bound and determined to get there this time.

Monday afternoon, the Boyfriend and I headed to Phoenix. We stopped at Carl’s Jr. before the event, and I had my usual: the Low-Carb $6 Burger. (Sorry I didn’t think to snap a picture of it.)

Then, guided by GPS, I drove us downtown, to US Airways Center. We took advantage of $5 parking about a block from the venue.

Even though we’d just eaten, the Boyfriend had to get popcorn. When we stopped at the concession stand, I decided to grab a drink, too.

Yeah. That wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made. $5.50 was a bit pricey for a bottle of Diet Dr Pepper.

Oh well. Live and learn.

Since our seats were in the nosebleed section, we had to climb several flights of stairs to get to them. We climbed so many stairs that the Boyfriend complained he thought he’d have a heart attack.

Sure. The out-of-shape, still-overweight blonde bests the tennis pro for cardiovascular endurance? I don’t think so. He was just trying to make me feel good.

At least we had a fantastic view. Our seats were on the aisle, and we had a crystal clear view of the ring.

The family in front of us was adorable, too. One of the kids held up a “Boo this man” sign every time one of the show’s bad guys made an appearance.

The guys beside us kept booing John Cena, though. I like John Cena. He’s the reason I knew about the show in Phoenix. (The press release from Make A Wish was touting his appearance at some hospital or something.)

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get any pictures of my favorite wrestlers. My iPhone’s camera didn’t zoom close enough without the image turning grainy. (What? A flaw in my beloved iPhone? Say it isn’t so!)

Suffice it to say, Beth Phoenix, who was in the “Superstars” pre-Raw match, looked amazing. I remarked to the Boyfriend that I wished I had her body. She’s tall (her nickname is “the Glamazon,” after all) and … not skinny. She’s not overweight either, but she looks solid and muscular — not like a stiff wind will blow her away.

Huh. I just read on her WWE page that she’s 5’7″. I’d never have guessed. She seems a lot taller than that, towering over the other Divas like she does. (Then again, the other Divas’ profiles I checked said they were 5’5″.)

Live and learn, I guess. It’s certainly a testament to the power of illusion.

The show was great. My only complaint was that we couldn’t hear the ring announcers. Not that I missed hearing Michael Cole’s drivel, but I’d assumed watching live would be like watching on TV — at least when it came to hearing the commentary.

All in all, it was a lot of fun — and fun to share a first with the Boyfriend. He said he’d never been to a live wrestling event before. (He was as surprised by the lack of sound from the announcers as I was. We could see Jerry “The King” Lawler, but didn’t hear a word he said.)