How to Hate it Less

1) “Man, this sucks…”, I said, cupping my hands over my beet-red ears. Spending hours walking around in the cold seemed like torture.

When asked why I didn’t just wear a hat I shrugged, “I’m just not a hat guy.”

I thought that other people looked good in hats, but when I wore one I just looked like a doofus.

Then, I found a specialty hat store. I browsed their vast selection and eventually found one that I liked. It cost slightly more than your average beanie, but it was made with quality materials, and I thought it looked good on me.

While I still wouldn’t consider myself a hat guy, I feel no hesitation about covering my head when it's cold.

As a result, I go on more walks in the winter than I used to. Now, I look forward to the cold weather months even more than in years past.

2) “I hate shaving!”, I shouted as I stared at my red, irritated neck.

Scraping a 5-bladed monster across my face was my least favorite part of the day. Not only was it a time-consuming process, it left me with a painful razor burn that never seemed to go away…

The next day, I was visiting my Azerbaijanian buddy, Roma, at his hole-in-the-wall shop. I perused his selection of safety razors.

A clean-shaven Uzbek man with dense, curly black hair pointed to one with an orange handle, “Get that one. That’s the one I use.”

I did, along with a small tube of what I was told was quality shaving cream.

After braving the brief but bloody "safety" razor learning curve, I soon began to notice my razor burn was disappearing.

Within a few weeks, I was stunned to realize that not only was the irritation almost completely gone, I was actually beginning to enjoy the daily ritual of shaving.

I’d spend the next six years living under a dress code that required me to shave daily. I was grateful to have been able to learn to enjoy the process early on.

3) “This is impossible! I hate writing!”, I sobbed as I stared at a blank page.

My review of the book "Yankee Doodle Dandy" was due in the morning.

I hadn’t even started yet.

Eventually, through tears, I cobbled together a passable paper — my spidery scrawl barely legible.

The next year I began to work on my handwriting.

“From now on I’m only writing in cursive!”

I quickly began to enjoy the mechanical act of writing. As my penmanship got better, I found writing less daunting. Thus, I began to write more. My essays slowly improved.

Ultimately, I grew to love to write. (Maybe "love" is too stong a word here... ).

Conclusion

I thought I hated walking in the cold, but what I really hated was wearing a stupid-looking hat.

I thought I hated shaving, but what I really disliked was having razor burn.

I thought I hated writing, but I was really just ashamed of my horrible penmanship.

Now, when there’s a task that I hate doing I try to ask myself, “What about it do I hate?” Once I’ve identified the real reason, I think of what small change I can make to get rid of that pain point.