Monday Musings: The Discipline of a Decision

My weekend involved a Little League scrimmage, which was a blast! Even though it was pretty cloudy, I wore a straw hat, which proceeded to crush my hair. The day before, I found this roll-up visor that I may try because it’ll protect my face on cooler days when a full hat isn’t required. It also rolls up tiny, so I can stuff it into a small bag.

What You Taught Me About Bone Density

After I shared my osteoporosis diagnosis here, many of you generously shared your own experiences.

Reading through your comments, I was struck by how many of you are already deep into treatment.

Some of you are on Prolia, the twice-a-year injection, and have seen real improvement.
Several of you switched to or started Reclast infusions after struggling with oral medications.
Many tried Fosamax or Boniva, with mixed experiences.
A number of you moved to Evenity after fractures or continued decline.
One reader shared her experience with Raloxifene for spinal density.
A few of you used Forteo after serious fractures to rebuild bone.
Others are taking Alendronate weekly.

Many of you are also lifting weights, working on balance, and taking calcium and vitamin D alongside medication.

Armed with all of that, I went back to see my endocrinologist when all of my test results were back. We talked through the options. A medication that would slow further loss and help maintain where my bones are. Or one that would actively build new bone for a limited period of time.

I was leaning toward maintenance. She wasn’t.

“Why try to maintain subpar bones,” she said, “when we can try to improve them?”

Well, that was to the point, but it clarified the decision.

Given the sharp drop in my bone density over the last three years and my previous femur fracture, maintaining didn’t feel smart, so we chose to rebuild first.

I started the daily Forteo injections. The goal is to stimulate new bone growth for two years. After that, I’ll move to a maintenance medication to hold on to whatever I’ve built. Without that second step, the gains disappear quickly.

There can be many side effects, but so far mine have been manageable.

I’ll keep you posted and share what I learn along the way.

Guidelines or Guardrails

I was chatting with a friend the other day about color. We were talking about palettes, seasonal typing, all of it. At some point, I said, “If I truly loved something, even if it wasn’t in my palette, I’d buy it and figure out how to make it work.”

She looked at me and said, very firmly, “I would not.”

That stopped me.

Style often matters more to me, and the pieces I’m drawn to aren’t always offered in my precise colors, so her certainty made me pause. It made me think about what a palette really is and how tightly it’s meant to guide us.

Is it a guideline or a guardrail?

A guideline helps. It points you in a direction and saves you from obvious mistakes. I know the blues that brighten my face and warm beiges quietly drain me. But a guardrail is different. It doesn’t just guide you…it stops you. It keeps you from crossing a line.

Palettes are meant to be guidelines. They create cohesion, make shopping easier, and reduce regret. There’s real value in that kind of discipline. The question is when that discipline quietly becomes rigidity.

Rigidity is when the rule matters more than the outcome, when you pass on something you genuinely love because it doesn’t meet a technical standard, and harmony becomes more important than expression.

Personal style is built on taste and instinct, and the small choices that make you feel confident when you walk out the door. If we follow every rule perfectly, we may end up looking correct, but correct isn’t always interesting.

My friend finds freedom in staying inside her palette, and I respect that. She always looks fabulous, and structure gives her clarity. For me, the structure is useful, but it isn’t absolute.

Maybe the real question isn’t whether to follow the rules, but how tightly to hold them. Color systems exist for a reason. They’re based on contrast, undertone, and light reflection, and they explain why certain shades make us look rested while others make us look vaguely unwell. That’s observable and practical.

But personal style isn’t a laboratory experiment. It’s shaped by mood, by memory, and by what we’re consistently drawn to. Sometimes a color isn’t technically ideal, yet it carries energy or softness or strength. Sometimes it reminds you of a place you loved or a version of yourself you’re not quite ready to retire.

There’s also something to be said for individuality. If everyone follows their palette perfectly, wardrobes start to look harmonious but predictable. Rules can refine us, but they can also smooth away the edges that make us distinct.

I don’t think abandoning structure is the answer. Without some boundaries, it’s easy to drift into impulse buying and closet confusion. A little discipline protects us from ourselves. But perfect adherence doesn’t necessarily create the most compelling version of a person.

Maybe the balance is this…use the palette to understand yourself, then decide case by case whether the rule serves you in that moment. Some days you follow the map, and some days you take the scenic route.

This week reminded me that good decisions take a little work.

You gather the information. You listen. You weigh it. You overthink it slightly. And then you make the best call you can with what you know.

That’s true in a doctor’s office and in a dressing room.