Let’s Have Happy Hour #3

If we were at happy hour, I’d order something frozen and fruity and tropical.  It’s getting warm here in California, and a drink that comes with an umbrella feels really necessary.  You’d order wine or something classy like that, and I’d look like the douchebag slurping on a freaking umbrella drink in what is technically still winter, but that’s okay.  You wouldn’t judge me at all.


If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that on Monday, I’m going on spring break!  You’d give me a face and say something like, Spring break?  You’re not even a student anymore.  Who do you think you are?  And I’d be all like, I’M NOT A GROWNUP YET DON’T MAKE ME, and then calmly explain that I took time off work (nannying) and internships to go to New Orleans and Nashville with a couple friends from high school.  And I’d ask you for any recommendations, because you’ve obviously been to both, you well-traveled power goddess.

If we were at happy hour, my drink glass would already be empty.  You’d notice and order a second round for me, like a good friend should.  You just get me.  They don’t call it Thirsty Thursday for nothin’.

If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that I’ve pretty much made a grad school decision.  I haven’t heard back from every school, but I got into my top private (read: expensive) school and my top public (read: I won’t exclusively eat Top Ramen for every single meal for the rest of my life) school.  You’d ask all the right questions about my decision, and I’d tell you that because the public school is about $40,000 less per year, I’m leaning toward that.  Then I’d tell you that I’ll update the blog with the actual school names in the near future (couple of weeks, probably).

If we were at happy hour, I would apologize for talking so much about myself.  I just have a lot going on, I’d rationalize, and you’re always the best listener.  You’d eat the flattery right up and let me continue rambling on about life.  Thanks, buddy.  You’re a rockstar.

If we were at happy hour, we’d order round three, and round four, then go out on the town.  I think we could both use a night of drinks and dancing, wouldn’t you say?

Social Media Blast

Just thought I’d pop in for a quick social media blast.  God forbid you aren’t following my glamorous, interesting life on every single social media site!  The horror!

1. Instagram

Filled with random pictures of life.  Sometimes I post one million times per day, and sometimes I don’t post for a week.

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2. Facebook

Blog updates.  One of my goals is to be more present on the Snack Therapy Facebook page.  What would you like to see more of on the Facebook page?

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3. Pinterest

Mostly just my cheesy vision board.


4. Twitter

Lots of old blog posts to peruse and occasional wisdom.

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What Do You Wish You’d Known?

Since I got back from Thailand last summer, I’ve been working in an opportunity program at a middle school. The students I work with are the most hilarious, resilient, interesting, awesome group of kids ever.  But, amidst all of the joys of being around such cool people, there’s one part that stands out as kind of strange: you have to relive what it’s like to be in middle school.



I know that I’m young and have plenty of time to make a fool of myself, but a hefty portion of my most embarrassing/awkward/cringey moments happened in 7th and 8th grade (among those moments: Googling “how to make out” and cutting all of my hair off).

So lately I’ve been thinking…

What do you wish you’d known at thirteen years old?

If you could tell your thirteen-year-old self one thing, what would it be?

For Thinking Out Loud Thursday, I’m asking you to do the heavy lifting…

Share your answer in the comments below!  I’ll compile all of the answers into one hilarious, wise, nostalgic blog post.

Ready… Go!

Let’s Have Happy Hour #2

If we were at happy hour, I wouldn’t order any food, but you would.  And then I’d pick off your plate for the entire night.  Sorry, buddy.

Can I just have one little taste?

Can I just have one little taste?

If we were at happy hour, I’d take my leg out from under the table, point my toe, and ask, “anything different?”  You’d notice the lack of my bionic leg (knee brace) and breathe a sigh of relief on my behalf.  Thank goodness that ugly, sweaty thing is gone.


Knee brace couture

If we were at happy hour, I’d ask you if you’ve seen any good movies lately.  You’d tell me about all of the intellectual documentaries you’ve been watching, and I’d admit that no, I haven’t seen that particular documentary, but I did watch Supersize Me back in 2004, so I think I’m doing pretty well on the documentary front.  Then I’d tell you that I did, however, recently see Whiplash, which was amazing.  I’d then express my growing resentment toward my parents for never making me play an instrument.  And then I’d confess that they actually did buy me a recorder and an electric guitar, both of which I gave up on in a matter of weeks, so I don’t know if the blame can be placed entirely on them.

If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you how I recently found a pacifier, an empty fruit snacks package, and a tiny ninja turtle figurine in my laundry.  Life of a nanny.  And also I might be a hoarder.

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If we were at happy hour, I’d give you the obligatory graduate school update.  I’d say that so far, I’ve gotten 5 interviews (completed 4 of them) and that I’m still waiting to hear from the last 3 schools.  I’d also tell you to sit down because I have BIG news. You’d roll your eyes because you’re already sitting, then lean forward on your elbows all interested-like.  “I GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL,” I’d scream.  I’ve only heard back from one school so far, but I GOT IN.  We’d clink drinks and sip and the waiter would be so happy for me that he’d bring us a free round of cocktails.  (<< Although the free drinks might be because you’re looking so hot tonight. You go, Glen Coco.)


If we were at happy hour, I’d whip out my phone to show you all the delicious food I ate in San Diego.  Your eyes would glaze over in boredom as I scrolled through pictures.  “Oh oh oh, and this was bacon mac and cheese!  With a panko topping!  And this, oh yeah this one was good… Naan with black bean hummus and veggies and the most vibrant, tangy sundried tomato pesto!  Ever!  And the dessert.  Don’t even get me st… Friend?  You still listening?”


If we were at happy hour, you’d ask about my blog.  You’d ask why I haven’t been writing lately.  I wouldn’t have a good answer for you, other than lack of time and major writer’s block.  “Stupid excuses,” you’d say.  I’d agree with you.  Stupid excuses indeed.  “You should try writing drunk.  That’s what Hemingway suggested,” you’d advise.  I’d laugh.  You’d order another round.  I knew I liked you for a reason.


If we were at happy hour, we’d get the bill (it’s on me! I’m super rich in this fantasy scenario), call an Uber, and head to our respective homes.  I’d text you from my couch: thanks for the great happy hour date!  When can we get together again?  Next time’s on you.



My love,

Happy anniversary.

Six years…


Sophomore 542











Six years of love and fun and me nagging you.

(But mostly love.  Lots of love.  More love than two people deserve, I’m sure.)

Six years of cover-stealing.

(Thanks for not mentioning it on a regular basis.  Sorry ’bout it.)

Six years of laughing.

(At you and with you.)

Six years of travel.

(Oh how I love exploring with my best friend.)

Six years of Yahtzee! and stupid computer games and Go Fish in Costa Rica.

(You make a good opponent, but an even better partner.)

I love you!  I’m so lucky you have you.

Here’s to the next six(ty).

Inspiration, Or a Lack Thereof

You wanna know something funny?  I had really lofty blog goals for February.  I wanted to post a couple of recipes, update you all on various life things, and talk about fun stuff like BMIs and weight and the ding dang scale.  But here we are, over a quarter of the way in, and… nothing.


But that’s how life works, I guess.

Lately I’ve felt simultaneously inspired and stuck.  I feel inspired to create, but it feels like that inspiration is getting stuck somewhere and I can’t transform it into anything tangible.  It’s frustrating.  I’m frustrated.  I want to be more present in this space.  I want to write about interesting things (like unapologetic self-love) and uninteresting things (like my life).  I want to connect with you all and make Snack Therapy bigger and better and sexier and taller/faster/stronger.  But lately the words just aren’t coming.


I’m trying to remedy this.  I started a secret Vision Board on Pinterest where I pin cheesy quotes about motivation and cheesy pictures of flowers and glitter and stuff.  I’ve been reading a little bit.  I’m trying to listen to more music.  All things to get the creative juices flowing, you know?


I’m sure the words will come back eventually.  But until then, I just want to pop in and say hi, that I miss you, and that I’ll be back soon.  I really have SO much to tell you all.  Some grad school updates, some travel updates, some general life updates.

Good stuff.   Beautiful stuff.  I’ll be around soon, I promise.


P.S. I’m sick and therefore high on NyQuil and therefore please take this post with a grain of salt.  Although I don’t really feel like the NyQuil is affecting me at all, I don’t even feel it, and also there’s a big dragon in my room so could you please call an exterminator to fix it for me?  Okay thanks mom xox9329dja cskdfka BYe.


Hating yourself sucks.  It just does.  It sucks to worry about every stomach jiggle and patch of cellulite and makeup-less photograph.  It sucks to compare your clusterfuck of a life to your 352 Facebook friends who all happen to have picture perfect husbands and kids and jobs.  It sucks to feel like you have no willpower or motivation or chance at success.  It sucks when your big toes look like astronauts (and not in a good way) so you’re too self-conscious to wear certain types of sandals.  (That last one is just a for-instance.)

When you hate yourself, walking through life is like walking through a metaphorical field of landmines.  You try to take a step forward and everything explodes and your legs get blown off and you’re left in this dirty pile of rubble, with a couple of bloody stumps where your legs used to be, looking around, wondering what the fuck is happening with my life? 


Every mirror your walk past reflects your Polish birthing hips and all of a sudden, you can’t formulate any thought other than muffin top gross fat ew muffin top lose weight fatty muffin top barf.  Boom.  Landmine explosion.  

Every family function is an opportunity to sabotage your perfect and controlled and guaranteed-to-help-you-lose-7-pounds-in-7-days juice cleanse.  Your crazy aunt starts pressuring you to pop out a couple kids and all of a sudden, you look down at the once-full bowl of Doritos and your orange-tinted fingertips and you realize that you’ve failed at yet another detox attempt.  Why even bother?  You have no willpower anyway; you’re worthless.  Boom.  Landmine explosion. 

Every candy bowl at a reception desk filled with stale Werther’s caramels and goo-filled strawberry grandma candies is tempting.  You eat five pieces of candy and your day is ruined because now you’re 50 calories over your daily limit and you might as well just get Taco Bell for dinner because you’re going to be fat anyway.  May as well lean into it.  Boom.  Landmine explosion. 

Every shopping trip is a dressing room breakdown waiting to happen.  You try on a pair of size whatever jeans, they don’t fit (even though you’ve been a size whatever for your whole life practically!), and all of a sudden you’re sobbing in Nordstrom’s while a chipper seventeen-year-old salesperson hovers around outside feeling uncomfortable.  Boom.  Landmine explosion. 

Every compliment is an opening to an argument.  Your boyfriend: “You look great today!” You: “Me?  Really?  Wow.  Now I know that everything you say is a lie because I look like a disgusting beached whale with mop hair and a pizza face.  If you’re lying to me about my looks, what else are you lying to me about?  Do you have another girlfriend on the side?  Is that what this is about?  LIAR!” Boom.  Landmine explosion. 

Every beach vacation is a chance to bash your “bikini body.”  For some reason, it feels good to talk about how horrible you look.  It feels impossible to shut up about your back fat and your armpit boobs and how weird your bellybutton looks.  Before you know it, you’re on a self-hate diatribe against yourself, and everyone around you wants to get eaten by a shark just so they don’t have to listen to you bitch anymore.  Boom.  Landmine explosion. 

Every party or happy hour or girls’ night is a major stressor.  How will you fit the calories into your weekly calorie budget?  What drinks have the fewest calories?  You spend an hour at work Googling “low calorie drinks.”  You show up to happy hour armed with gum (so you don’t snack on the mozzarella sticks sitting on the table) and your low-cal drink order.  But then all of your friends are ordering strawberry daiquiris, and damn those look fruity and sassy, and look! they even come with cute little umbrellas, and all of a sudden your vodka + seltzer + lime drink looks a whole lot less appetizing.  Before you know it, you’re four daiquiris and eight mozzarella sticks deep on a Thursday night, flirting with a guy who is probably like 32 but on second thought might be around 58 because he’s talking about his grandkids.  Then you wake up on Friday morning and skip breakfast on account of the mozzarella sticks and vow to do better next time.  Boom. Landmine explosion.

When you hate yourself, life is uncomfortable and scary.  Events that should be fun and silly end up being stressful and anxiety-provoking.  That’s because when you hate yourself, you aren’t gentle and compassionate with your mistakes.  You aren’t forgiving and kind and loving with yourself.  You can’t laugh at funny things, like when you drunk-eat all of the mozzarella sticks.  Instead, you beat yourself up.  You feel ashamed.  You feel worthless.  You feel stuck in your life and uncomfortable in your body and everything sucks.

So stop it, for fucks sake.  Stop hating yourself.  Make the decision to laugh through the moments that feel really hard.  Try to maintain some perspective.  Get help if you need it; find a friend, a therapist, an online community, anything to help you learn how to love yourself.

Because when you’re good to yourself, life is good to you.  Things are happy and easy and funny.  Food tastes better.  Vacations are better.  Sex is better.  Your friends are funnier.  Life is more vibrant.


When you love yourself, things just…flow.  When you forgive yourself, you aren’t afraid to take risks and fail.  When you’re compassionate with yourself, your confidence shines through.

PicMonkey Collage

So please…


You deserve it.



What are your “landmines?” 

Linking up with Amanda for Thinking Out Loud Thursday!

Let’s Have Happy Hour

If we were at happy hour, I’d order the bruschetta, you’d order the sweet potato fries (can I get ranch on the side?), and we’d share snacks and share stories.


If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that no, I won’t be ordering any alcoholic beverages because I’m currently on painkillers and the two really don’t mix.


If we were at happy hour, we’d have to sit in a booth so I could prop my ding dang knee up.  I’d tell you that the doctor ended up fixing my torn meniscus, removing that huge ass (“moderate” by doctor standards) cyst, and unexpectedly tightening some ligaments.  I’d tell you that it’s feeling so much better.  I’d also probably gush about Jake and how awesome he’s been through all of this.  I’d brag that he bought me Diet Snapple, Doritos, candy, and boxes upon boxes of Annie’s Shells and White Cheddar (<< a healthy diet is imperative to a quick recovery).  I’d tell you how he slept on the downstairs couches with me for two nights because sleeping in bed was uncomfortable.  I’d also pull out my phone and play you the video he took post-surgery, where I’m still pretty drugged up and wink at the camera quite seductively (as in, not).

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They also amputated my entire body, apparently.

If we were at happy hour, I’d ask you how you were doing.  How has life been? How’s your dog/child/boyfriend/wife/what have you?  You might sigh and take a sip of your white wine and vent your frustrations.  I feel for you.  But your venting also makes me feel good.  I like knowing I’m not the only crazy one.  Thanks for that.


If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you how nervous I’m feeling about graduate school applications.  I’d tell you how I have 7 out of 8 submitted, but that #8 is killing me slowly.  I’d whine and complain and vacillate between wanting to submit that last one and wanting to just say screw it, until you stop me and say something like, “Carly, you have two and a half weeks to get this done.  Get your shit together, woman.”  And then I’d stop our waiter and order a Moscow Mule because you’re so right, but I need a drink after that tough love and it’s been at least four hours since I’ve had a Norco so I’m probably all good.


If we were at happy hour, I’d ask you if you’ve seen any good movies lately.  And I’d actually care about the answer because I really want to go see a movie, but I cannot for the life of me decide which one.  Movies these days are expensive.  Two tickets and some popcorn and you’re $30 in the hole.   You gotta choose wisely.


If we were at happy hour, I’d tell you that I want to travel.  I’d say that it doesn’t have to be some crazy European excursion (although that would be nice); I’m content exploring the beauty that the ol’ US of A has to offer.  Then you’d snort and a little Chardonnay would come out your nose, and I’d look at you quizzically, and you’d ask, “did you just use the phrase ‘ol’ US of A?”  And I would laugh too, hand you a napkin, and then take a picture of you with white wine coming out of your nose and Instagram it.  Because that’s what friends do.


Beautiful Hawaii, for instance.

If we were at happy hour, I’d pick up my cup and clink it against yours and say, “cheers to you, friend.”  Clink. 




If we were at happy hour ________. 

Also, if anyone lives in the Sacramento area and actually wants to go to happy hour, let me know, because I am so in. 

You Asked, I’m Answering

Body Image/Disordered Eating

Have you had any digestion issues post-eating restriction? And, if so, how have you managed them?

No, luckily I haven’t had any digestion issues so I don’t have any good tips to share.

How did traveling affect your recovery?

I think travel is amazing for recovering from a disordered or obsessive lifestyle.  When I travel, I am less stressed.  I’m content.  I have fun.  I don’t feel the need to numb feelings (like loneliness, boredom, or anxiety) with food.  When I travel, I move my body in ways that make me happy, like walking or swimming.  And, when I travel, I spend time taking care of myself – getting dressed up, sleeping in, pampering – so I feel more beautiful.  Travel is like (super expensive) therapy.


If you could go back in time before you recovered from food issues, what was one thing you wished you would have known or tried?

Therapy.  Real therapy.  Not Snack Therapy, not travel therapy.  Therapy with a real therapist.

Did you ever deal with Amenorrhea? If so, how did you resolve it?

No, fortunately I never did.

How did you help improve your body image?

Lots of time.  Lots of ups and downs.  A conscious decision to stop being a dick to myself.  Eating intuitively.  Having a sense of humor about things.

How much do you currently weigh?

I don’t like to share my weight because I think it invites comparisons.  I am, however, thinking about writing a post on BMIs and weight and what it all means.  Thoughts?


Where is the most interesting place you’ve travelled to? 

Thailand, no doubt.


What are your top 5 places you want to see in the world?

My top 5 places (that I haven’t seen yet) are, in no particular order: The Grand Canyon, New Zealand, Indonesia, South Africa, Iceland.  Disclaimer: This list changes approximately every couple of days, so take it with a grain of salt.

If you could live anywhere, where would you live?

See above!  But to be honest, I really really love it here in California.


Are you and Jake still together? What are your plans for the future?

Yes, Jake and I are still together.  Our plans for the future?  Well, Jake is heading back to school later this month to eventually obtain his teaching credential.  I’m (hopefully) heading off to graduate school in the fall.  So for the next few years, our plan is just to ride it out, readjust to long distance, and once again find our new normal.


What are your “deal breakers” in either a man (if you were single) or a friend?

People who are dickheads.

Have you talked about getting married with your boyfriend?

Yes, we talk about getting married.  For us, marriage is something that exists as an abstract in the far off future.  We both have years of school/internships left and we want to be settled before getting married.  We’ll talk seriously about marriage when we both have  jobs and are living together.  So a few years, at least.

Are you still in a long distance relationship? If so, how do you keep the romance alive?

Noooo long distance for us!  While I was in Thailand this summer, Jake moved back home (Sacramento area) from LA so for the first time in years, we’re not doing the LDR thing.  It’s awesome but short-lived.  Things will likely go back to long distance when I start grad school.  Sigh.


Desert island….what three foods do you bring?

Fruit salad (hydration and vitamins).  Beef jerky (protein and salt).  Booze (because I’m stuck on a desert island).

What is one food you never will turn down? Ever.

A soft pretzel with cheese sauce.  Like, a mall pretzel.  Gah that shit is so good.

Crunchy or Smooth?

Smooooooth, baby.

If you could eat any one food for the rest of your life what would it be?

A turkey sandwich with cheese and tons of veggies.  It’s not my #1 favorite food, but I feel like I wouldn’t get sick of it too quickly.



What are your “blogger pet peeves” ?

I really don’t like when people comment on a post that they clearly haven’t read.  I also dislike sponsored posts unless they’re done well and seem genuine.  Hmm… I dislike when people post just for the sake of it, something that I’m totally guilty of!

Are you aware that the consensus on GOMI is that you win the internets and are a “SOMI?”

After my Transformation Tuesday post blew up, my blog popped up on GOMI (Get Off My Internets) for a bit.  Luckily, it was pretty much just focused on that one post and went away after the hype surrounding that post died down.

The Law

Have you ever been a victim of a crime?

Well… I’ve had my debit card stolen so I guess that counts.  The person who stole it charged about $30 at a bar and $25 at Jack in the Box.  Based on those dollar amounts, I have a gut feeling that he or she bought 4 drinks and 50 JinB tacos.

Have you ever broken the law?

Of course I have!

Sneakiest thing you ever did behind your parents back when you were coming up?

Oh man… Sneaking out, probably.  Or lying about my whereabouts and making various bad choices.

Grad School

What do you want to go to grad school for?

I’m applying to Master’s programs so I can eventually become a marriage and family therapist.  It’s two years of school, then 3,000 hours of experience, then a big test.

Any tips on applying to grad school?

Start early!  Take the GRE early, approach professors or bosses about letters of rec early, and start writing your personal statement early.  I’ve been working on application diligently and consistently since September and I still feel like I’m running out of time!


Where do you like to shop for clothes?

Nordstrom is my favorite place to shop, fasho.


How are you today? Do you generally feel that way everyday or most of the time?

Today?  Well today is day 3 post-knee surgery, so I’m kind of hurtin’.  But I also just took a painkiller so things are looking up.  I generally feel much, much better (and much more mobile) than I do right now.


How many staircases are in hogwarts? No cheating

142.  You guys, I know way more Harry Potter trivia than any one person should know.

Is your Mom really your favorite family member??

I’ll give you three guesses who submitted this question (but you’ll only need one).


Are you religious?


What is your favorite wild animal and why? 

If I say “elephant” does that make me a basic bitch?  I feel like basic bitches love elephants.  But yeah.  It’s an elephant.


What is your favorite TV show?

I think Parks and Recreation is the most hilarious, brilliant, fantastic show.  I also love The Office, Orange is the New Black, and Cosmos (on Netflix – watch it, it’s amazing).

What is your favorite reality TV show?

I love me some good trashy reality TV.  Real Housewives (of Orange County and Beverly Hills), The Bachelor and Bachelorette… Paired with some brie and a cocktail?  Basically my heaven.

Do you have any tipe for doing something you really don’t want to do? Example – I am writing an member spotlight article for our employee newsletter, and it is the bane of my existence – motivation needed. Thanks!

Just start.  Tell yourself that you have to work diligently for 5 minutes, and that’s it.  Usually once the 5 minutes are up, you’re over the motivation hump and you keep going.  If that doesn’t work, bribe yourself.

If you could have a celebrity in your group exercise class, who would you want to teach?

Emma Watson because a) she’s so freaking cool and b) she seems like she would be adorably awkward doing all of the moves and c) we would probably hang out after class drinking tea, talking about women’s rights and sharing fashion tips (i.e., her giving me fashion advice).


What’s your favorite TV show?  << I need a new show to watch while I’m spending all day on the couch.

What are your blogger pet peeves?  << Spill!

An Attempted Hike and Pizza

Happy Monday!  How’s everyone doing today?  Good?  Good.

I’m just popping in today for a quick recap of the weekend.  I really only took a handful of pictures, all on Saturday, so it’s not exactly the most representative blog post, but still.

On Friday night (technically Saturday morning), I was wide awake from about 2:30am – 5:30am.  I had a crazy allergic reaction on New Year’s Eve and I’m still waking up unbearably itchy in the middle of the night.  As a result, I fell back asleep until around 9am.

Jake and I had Saturday plans to drive up toward Lake Tahoe for a hike.  I got real fancy and put my hair up in a Pinterest ponytail.

Look at that thing!  It’s like a Barbie ponytail!


Jake and I headed out around noon and ended up not being able to find the trail we were looking for.  Womp womp… Instead, we pulled over on the freeway and walked along the river for a bit.  Not exactly the hike we had planned, but still nice to get some fresh air.

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After our failed hike, we lounged around for a bit before heading out to dinner and a movie.  We dominated a pizza and some tasty cocktails at Chicago Fire, at which point I started itching like a crazy person.  I decided that sitting through a 2-hour movie would be hell on earth, so we nixed the movie and instead went home and watched Cosmos in bed.

So perfect.


Have an amazing start to your week!


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