This Shit's Fo Real {part 2}

I realize it has been almost 9 weeks since my last "figure" post.  Many of you (yeah, right!) have been sitting on edge, wondering, "What the hell happened to this girl?"  Well... I won.  My class that it.  First place, Figure D.  Holla!  Next up:  National-level competitions this coming spring/summer.  So what's the deal?  Why am I withdrawn?  Welcome to {Fit} Mom Diary.

The purpose of this is to be real, honest and true to you, my readers, but more importantly to myself.  There are lessons learned in everything and if I don't take the time to figure them the hell out, I am doomed to repeat them.  I don't like to repeat lessons.  Life is hard enough the first time.  Let's rewind to the weekend of the show...

As Phil and I traveled across the northwest toward the great state of Washington, knowing this was the culmination of the past four months, something changed in me.  I felt a sense of relief, a sense of accomplishment and an anticipation of the "next".  I was excited to go on stage again, to get all "Barbie-rella'd" out with hair and make-up and glitter.  I was excited to experience butterflies in this *new* way, watch the other women, and just take it all in.

Prior to this drive, I was f-ing crazy.  Really.  My previous post about B-B-C... I was in full swing!  I would argue with my husband about the most ridiculous, selfish, irrational things because I was taxed.  My body was depleted, my mind was depleted and in some ways, my heart.  I was not consuming carbs like a normal person, therefore I was not acting like a normal person.  I was taking so much for myself that I was not able to GIVE as I normally do.  My heart was not getting the nourishment from loving for and taking care of my family in the way I was accustomed.  Did I deprive them? No. Did the get the best of me? No.  But I had some sick-ass shoulder caps!  And that was my focus at that time.  Not them - me.  For the first time ever.  It was hard.  But driving to Spokane was a mental reset for me.  The light was bright at the end of my tunnel and I knew, I KNEW I would be myself again. The anticipation of that made me giddy.  I specifically remember apologizing to my husband at least a dozen times for being so crazy.  I thanked him for his support and ability to challenge me when I needed it most.  I was giddy.  Once we arrived at our hotel in Spokane, it was GO TIME.  Our weekend went as follows:

Our mini-hotel room

Gawk at the closet-sized room we are in.

Unpack suit case - triple check the necessities are still there: suit, heels, tanner, oatmeal, peanut butter

Shower and shave EVERYTHING - FROM HEAD TO TOE (neck, back, arms, butt, toes, everything!)

Refrain from putting on any lotion or deodorant. 

Warn husband on smelliness awaiting him in the next 24 hours.

Wait for Shawna (my coach) to come down with tanner...

Last time looking pale

Prepare yourself for cold, naked misting for the next 3 HOURS!

**I could write an entire blog post on just the tanning process!** Maybe later...

In between mistings, head to host hotel for competitor check in.

Gawk at all the incredibly tan, beautiful and muscular people.

Keep gawking.

Try not to let them get to you.

Tell yourself you are the "unassuming, nobody" who is coming to WIN.

Blend into crowd.

Drink the last bit of water until after competition.

Laugh at how high-maintenance some girls are. Damn.


Get butterflies at your are measured for height class. D.  Good!

Excitedly collect competition number - 93.  Does it feel lucky!  It will be remembered, I will make sure!



Tanner.got.everywhere.



Go through competitor "goodie bag".  Toss all the things I won't ever use.  Keep the protein.

Head to hotel for 2 MORE coats of tanner.
Laugh about ridiculousness of naked-time.
Remind Phil, "This is the closest you'll get to being with a black girl".

Remind him that he can't actually touch you because tanner will rub off.  Damn.

Eat (again) the grossest, blandest (no seasoning added!), driest chicken in the world. Damn.



Good morning figure competitor!



Watch Phil eat deliciously spicy Pad Thai.  Damn.

Lay down extra set of {stolen from the hotel} sheets to collect brown mess that will rub off your body.

Attempt to sleep.

Lay there, analyzing every move, every muscles, every item to be worn.

Wake up.  DON'T drink coffee.

Eat oatmeal with LOTS of brown sugar.

Get dressed so coach can "analyze" body and tan.

Style hair - beauty pageant, here I come!

Make-up... I have NEVER worn so much black eye shadow in my life!

Eat more oatmeal.  LOTS more oatmeal.

Eat rice cakes with peanut butter. MORE.

No water...

Go to competition site and eat more.

Get dressed.

Spray hair again.

Spray tan all over body again.

My biggest fan!!

Make an inappropriate joke about "smelling like a stripper", not knowing the girls I was with actually worked at a strip club...

Wonder why no one laughs.

Glitter it up with MAJOR sparkly earrings, bracelet and rings.

Own that shit.

Put on number.

Its go time... just kidding.

Sit on floor.

Wait.

Wait.
Eat Skittles.
Eat MORE Skittles.
Wait.
Time to head backstage...

Prejudging line-up



As I entered the backstage area of a bodybuilding competition, it was like a whole new world.  I had been backstage many times during my years of dance, but this was different.  Weights, men, tanner, bands, hairspray, SUGAR, oil, etc.  I expected some creepiness from the men gawking at all the half-naked women, but there was none of that.  They were in the zone.  They were focused on getting their bodies ready and didn't give a shit about the hottness surrounding them.  And holy hottness.  There was a plethora.  It would put any Vegas nightclub to shame.  Big hair, make-up, glam.  It was a whirlwind.



Quarter turns



Where was I in the midst of all this?  Sitting on the floor, facing away from everyone, getting my mind right.  Eat skittles with my eyes closed, focusing on simply being in the moment.  When it was really time to start "pumping my muscles", I stood up, adjusted everything, put my heels on and started pumping.  Then it hit me.  I began to notice the eyes.  They eyes that kept looking, wondering, sizing me.  They eyes didn't come from any man, they were all from women.  Lots of women.  I say this not thinking that I "shocked" anyone with my enamouring presence or lat spread or shoulder caps, but because up until then, I was the "unassuming nobody".  But I came here to win.

Top 3... who will it be?

As I did my upright rows, my shoulder presses and bicep curls, I watched how my muscles had been formed over the past 15 weeks.  I was proud.  I knew I put EVERYTHING into this moment to make me the BEST of myself. I was ready.  I wanted to swagger.  So I did.

As I walked out onto the stage, I was 2nd to the last in line.  The judges moved some girls around, but they didn't move me for a bit... I began to worry.  The goal is to move to the middle and stay there.  If you are in the middle, you know you are going to place.  Finally the call came, "#93, please trade places with..."  That was it.  They were moving me to the middle.  I still get butterflies in my stomach thinking about that moment!  I can hear my husband over everyone screaming so loudly!  I wanted to cry up there.  I was so proud to represent HIM and the trials I had put him and our family through.  I stayed there.  The rest of judging. 

I remember turning to the side.  They had HUGE screens with the video feed so the people in the audience could get a closer look.  I remember looking at it.  I saw a girl in a raspberry suit on that screen, and I thought, "Damn, she looks great!"  You can't help but always size up the competition.  But then I realized, THAT GIRL WAS ME! What?!  That's what I look like?!?!  HOLY SHIT!!!!

I was done.  Any lack of confidence I had was immediately washed away at that moment.  I owned that stage will all 5'7" and 124lbs of me. I gave everything I had to give.  And when they asked us to leave the stage, I did so with some MAJOR swagger. 

Then it was time to wait.  The night show is when they announce the winner of each class and the overall.  I had a few hours.  My instructions: EAT.  Not just eat, but CHEAT!  Sort of.  I had a subway sandwich and chips.  Little fluids.  Then I took a nap.  All that swagger made me tired!



After pre-judging and my lunch...
Can you tell by my swell in my bell -y?



Then it was onto the night show.  I got to strut my stuff by myself for a brief moment.  I didn't feel right about my poses, but they were decent.  I know, looking back, there are still a LOT of improvements to be made if I want to be a viable national contender, but I sure gave it my all! 

Then the time came... call outs... There were five of us, in completely random order.  I got all goose bumpy when they called me as part of the group. These ladies had KILLER bodies.  Some of them displayed them better than others.  I am learning (many times) that is what it comes down to.  I would have been KILLED by a couple if they were able to "display their package" differently.  You can just tell by looking at them that they are more built & more muscular.  But HOT DAMN was I cut!

One of the girls I train with was also in my class.  She is the tall drink 'o water in the blue suit.  The one whose back completely dwarfs mine.  I wasn't sure how it would go.  I knew if I was called for third, she would be first.  Vice versa.  Then it came.  She was called out for third place... I had to bite my lip... There were only two of us left and I knew my striations had to count for something.  AND THEY DID!  First place baby!  HOLY SHIT!!!

I made my trainer eat his words.  Just the week prior, I was having a bit of a mind game with myself.  He texted me NOT to have too high expectations, but allow this to be a learning experience.  See what the judges think of you.  Learn where your strengths and weaknesses are. OK.  But I WANT TO WIN!  I can't control that competitive desire to be the BEST.  It is what fueled me since I began this journey over a year ago.  I want to be bigger and stronger.  I want to be the best ME I can be.  But I also want to be the BEST period.



Best.Moment.Ever.



When they announced it, I couldn't help but smile HUGE.  I could hear Phil out in the audience going crazy.  I could hear Shawna.  My whole body got hot.  I was in shock.  "That's right, Jon.  No one wins their first show..."  I did.  And the greatest moment ever?  Right here:

Being backstage, having Phil burst through the crowd, scoop me up in his arms, tears in his eyes, and squeeze me tight enough to break my ribs.  Damn.  I love this man more than anything.  I wanted to bask in that moment for eternity.  But I couldn't.  I had to get ready for the Overall winner...



Overall Winner!



I was out of my element, my head wasn't there.  I tried.  But I knew I wasn't as focused this time.  I didn't hit my back poses very well, my legs were shaky, but the girl that beat me deserved it, regardless of how "off" I was.  Her legs, her back, her abs, her poses, they all beat mine.  But I gave it my best.  And this was my first show... And I have three kids... And I just started training for this 16 weeks ago... And...  I don't need to quantify my loss.  I need to congratulate and then celebrate!

  

Celebrate we did!  After a quick shower to get the nastiness of a tan off my skin, a quick "celebratory"... we went out to dinner with all the crew of Big Jon Fitness.  I love these people.  Seriously.  Where in the world would you bring together a cocktail waitress, a banker, a bar manager, a third grade teacher, a nail tech, a supplement company owner, a trainer and god-knows what else?  The greatest thing - they and their partners/families/spouses are all COOL AS HELL!!!



My trainer and therapist - Shawna


Love of my life!
I couldn't have done it without him!



Big Jon and Shawna
I couldn't hug him because he
didn't want tanner on him.

 

All I had to show for my win...

 Someone asked me when it was all over and done, "So what did you win?"  I think they were expecting money or some grade prize.  Nope.  This was it.  This trophy and medal are it.  But oh... I walked away with so much more.  I gained so much more.  I earned so much more.  I am a different woman because of this process.  I loved it and WILL be back to earn my Pro card.  I am the "unassuming nobody" who is coming to WIN.  Game on! 

The Big Jon team

Shawna & Phil made a deal that if I won, she would do a
shot.  This girl hasn't had a shot in YEARS!

Holding up her end of the deal.  And drunk 3.2 minutes later...

Jon, eating his 3ft. long hot dog.
Could.not.stop.laughing.

  

Katie & I with LOTS of FAT, LOTS of CARBS
and LOTS of GUNS!!

There are many lessons to be learned from this soul-exposing honesty and deprivation.  Lessons I learned thus far:  1.  Its all about me.  2. I am so incredibly selfish that all I think about all day is what I need to do for myself.  Done.  Lessons learned.  NOT!

Really though.  I have learned so much about myself, my priorities, my character, what I am made of, and ultimately how important my family and friends are to me.  I can look back over this experience and know that and NO POINT was the well-being of my family sacrificed in this choice.  They have always been well-provided for, loved and taken care of  the entire time, just maybe not the caliber they were accustomed.

I knew going into it sacrifices would be necessary to get me to where I want to be.  But the sacrifices have not come from what is most important.  We still had family dinners together.  I still did my job well.  I still made it to the grocery store.  I played with my kids outside.  I had family and friends over.  Life went on.  I chose to make my sacrifices personal.  I had to plan ahead for EVERYTHING which takes up my time.  I didn't get more than 5 hours of sleep each night.  I climbed 630 flights FLIGHTS(!) of stairs every day. I ate only 1309 calories. Most days I went to work with wet hair.  (still do!) But.... BUT

I tucked my kids into bed most nights.  I ate breakfast with them every morning.  I kissed them before I left for work.  I kissed them when I picked them up after work.  I *tried* to keep things normal.  I was prepared for all of that. 

What I wasn't prepared for was the aftermath.  How do you come back to normal after controlling so much of your life?  How do you allow yourself freedom without going off the deep end?  How do you EVER enjoy a piece of fish again? 

I struggled (and still do) with all these things.  I am trying to find balance, drive to keep working, acceptance of a swell in my belly instead of lean abs.  I am trudging through.  I will get there.  Every day is a process.  I find that when I work out, I feel normal again.  I just didn't want to for a long time... But now I am ready.  Ready to grow, ready to add some major muscles, ready to gain (healthy!) weight.  I am still sitting at 132 lbs.  Not bad considering I was on stage at 124.  I honestly expected more.  I am not doing a LICK of cardio (hallelujah!) and just lift heavy.  I can't get up from the computer right now because my legs are sore from my 500# leg press on Thursday (and all the other leg exercises Jon had me do!).  I thought I was going to collapse simply doing walking lunges with 65# after, but I made it.  I am trying to keep my head in check.  My body is definitely cooperating.  But all of this, ALL of this is so much more mental than it is physical.  I got my body dialed in.  Now its time for my mind & spirit.

So here's to progress, friends.  No matter where you are in your journey, we run into peaks and valleys.  I fell off my peak into my valley rather quickly.  But I am climbing my way out, one day at a time.  If I happen to see you on the climb, lets give each other a "high five", a "good game" or an arm to grab hold of.  We are all trying to make ourselves better.  No matter the reason or the rhyme, it is our constant evolution as humans.  Thanks for sticking with me.  I appreciate the "high fives" and support.  I may need an arm sooner or later.  I hope I can do the same for you.  GAME ON!

Next up...

Project: Get My Shit Together (PGMST)

I am learning the only way I actually function at my peak is to HAVE MY SHIT TOGETHER.  So how in the hell will I do this?  One week at a time.  It starts today.  I am making a plan.  For the next 52 weeks (yep, that's one year folks!), I am going to work on something that will get my shit (whatever it may be) together.  Examples of SHIT:
exercise
meal planning
motivation
organization
laundry
chores
yard work
time with kids
time with spouse
etc...

Trying to balance it all is what kicked me off my cliff and down into my valley.  I realize I need help.  Help comes in many forms and its all over Pinterest!  I am making a plan.  Today I am updating my Weekly Planner, meal planning for the week and writing my grocery list.  I will also brainstorm ALL the things that are currently "shit" that need put together. 

I hope you'll join me in this REVOLUTION.  And we'll just be a bunch of incredible people with no shit (just the necessary kind) and everything 'together'.

Here's my motivation:
Mommy Trackd
Org Junkie
Modern Parents Messy Kids

This Shit's Fo Real! {part 1}

Its almost midnight on a Tuesday night.  I am T - 10 days until I strut the stage in my wannabe bikini.  I say "wannabe" because there is only 1/2 as much material as a regular bikini.  Most of it is missing from the ass-region.  Yikes.

I wanted to take a moment to be honest and real about this entire experience.  Atop the mounds of homework and schoolwork and laundrywork and housework and dinnerwork and disheswork and mommawork and wifeywork and... I am making ME work.  Every damn day.  1 hour at 5:00 am and again at 9:00 pm for another 2 hours.  I sweat and grunt and move weights and climb stairs.  That's what I do.  I am a stairclimber.

I realized, when talking with some new friends, that I sound like I am batshitcrazy.  Truly.  I remember hearing about "these women" who did "this" and wondered - WTF?  Why would you ever DO THAT?  Why would you sacrifice your family or your relationships or your pure enjoyment for something that seems so selfish??  WHY???  I didn't get it.  But now I am here.  Working off 4 hours of sleep, very limited carbs, a gallon of water and and an idea that I can do this.

I want to be honest about all of it.  Every moment, every change, every struggle.  So here it is.  This is a true glimpse of the experience:

FUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!

What am I doing??? 
I need to sleep.
I need to eat.
I need to sit.
I need to drink water.
I need to drink something other than water.
I just need a damn drink.
I need to eat.  Again.
I don't want to eat.
Yes I do.
No I don't.
Eat the damn chicken you cooked two days ago that looks like shit.
I need mustard.
I need water to wash down the mustard now coated on the chicken.
I need green beans.
I need a protein shake.
I need a piece of bread.
I need to put down the cracker.
I need to walk away.
I need to walk.
I need to climb.
I need to climb stairs.
I need to climb stairs for an hour.
I need to find something to occupy me for an hour because those TVs in the gym are getting old.
I need to read my Research Methods textbook.
I need to research for my Research Methods class.
I need to know more about creatine.
I need to know more about ATP.
I need to stop.
I need to shower.
I need to sit here in the shower.
I need a nap.
Its only 6:15 am.
F@#K.

I am currently ~ 10% body fat and 127 lbs.  That means that of the 127 lbs. I carry around, only 12.7 of it is fat.  It insulates my brain, my organs and still my ass.  Still.  It is being stripped from my brain and my joints, but not my ass.  How can I tell??  Because I leave shit everywhere (like my wedding ring in San Diego).  I forget stuff all the time.  I can't complete a thought.  I forget what my name is.  Its bad.  My joints ache all the time.  I am deflated.  I hurt.  Everywhere.  Its not pretty.

I am not writing to sway anyone from attempting this because I think it is nothing short of amazing.  BUT no one writes of how it really is in the trenches.  I am in a fog right now.  I barely have energy to smile.  But I do.  I am tired - but I was a hellofalot more tired with a newborn.  I ache, but I ached a hellofalot more my last trimester of pregnancy.  I have major food issues, but... nope. Always loved food.  Damn.  The truth is that mentally and physically I am not at my peak.  But this is not my valley either.  Food still tastes good to me, regardless of how many times I have eaten it.  I drink water like crazy and in turn pee like crazy.  I climb stairs like a BOSS.  I still have a great attitude and regardless of how little sleep I get or how much energy I expend, I still am so much more productive in my day than I ever was previously.  I am not a slug.  My body is pushed to the limit and is responding back with a "F&#k yeah. Let's do this!"  It loves it so I in turn am loving it. Really.  OK.  Maybe not right now because I just got home from the gym after lifting for an hour and climbing stairs only to know that I will return in less than 6 hours to climb stairs again.

But ohhhh myyyyyy gossssshhhh.  How I can't wait to not wake up at 4:45 to climb stairs.  How awesome will it be to eat blueberries in my oatmeal again?  Or have some damn peanut butter??  I am almost there.

10 days baby.

No one shit their pants this week... unfortunately

Week two of competition prep is now done and I am happy to report that I am down 2lbs. from last week.  I was down four, but then my bowels stopped working but I kept eating, which is why its an unfortunate occurrence that no one (meaning ME), shit their pants. 

Eli, however, is a rock star at this feat.  I don't count him into the equation becase he has the most efficient bowels of anyone in our house.  We are talking 7x a day.  He is so efficient that he poops as he is eating!  I think he actually does this because it might impede his food consumption to have any 'old' food taking up much needed space for 'new' food.  His belly can only expand so much so he has to empty the tank to free up some hot real estate.  Damn.  That boy can eat!  Someone made a great observation the other day.  After eating his sisters under the table, his belly was so swollen that his physique resembled that of a "D".  Not a "d".  No, that would mean it was only restricted to his belly.  He is a full-on CAPITAL D.  It starts at the neck and goes all the way down to his nether regions.  But once all that food has been used up for fuel, watch out.  We all know what shitstorms that kid can bring!

Yesterday, he shit so well, he smeared most of his artwork all over the white shirt of the woman in the gym daycare - while she was holding him.  Lucky gal.  That stuff is like tar.  I really hope she has some good stain remover and a wire bristled brush.  She could have easily called the state Haz-Mat crew for response. When I came to get him at 11:57 (the daycare closes at 12:00!) all I could hear was him screaming in the bathroom and her trying to comfort him.  I walked in to see her holding him around the belly, one leg pulled spread eagle from the other, clothes and wipes strewn everywhere and Maia in the corner, loading up her hands with a gallon of soap from the dispenser.  She knew this was a major "shitstorm" and she was already getting herself prepared. 

After wiping scrubbing the tar off him, his binky, his legs, shoes, wall, etc., we finally made it out of there with multiple apologies, a bag full of shit and Maia's really clean hands.  No harm, no foul.  I hope they will let us back in tomorrow.

Now, back to my recap of Week 2.  This week was great!  Up until Wednesday evening when my intestines stopped working... or rather s-l-o-o-o-o-w-e-d down.  Those that follow me and my blogging from my previous work over at Real World-Suburbia know the turmoil I face when having any 'digestive' issues.  Only this time it didn't make sense - at first.  I am eating crazy healthy and drinking my fair share of water (1 gallon!) every day.  Why is this shit not moving??  Really??  Well, let me review.

I am digesting (or attempting to) 230 g. of protein every day.  Yes, you read that correctly. 230.  Shit!  Or... I wish!  That is crazy!  So, after adjusting to my new diet for about 10 days, my bowels go the best of me.  I am working on it, adding magnesium at the end of the night and taking a probiotic to help with digestion.  Things are beginning to move.  Thank Gawd!

My workouts are intense (as always).  I am not doing a SINGLE MINUTE of cardio (HALLELUJAH!), but my day 6 is Plyometrics.  This is absolutely making up for the lack of cardio the other days.  Here is what my 90 minutes of dripping sweat consisted of:  125 HIGH box jumps, 250 jump lunges, 300 side lunges with leg lifts, 250 side-to-side jumps, 200 side box jumps, 500 walking lunges with leg lifts.  Holy SH!T.  No wonder my feet, ankles, calves, knees, thighs, and hips all hurt this morning when I woke up.

The awesome news I have been saving for last.  CHEAT MEAL.  Yeah, baby... I, for some reason, wanted to go 'balls to the wall' for this adventure and get the most indulgent, ridiculous, grossly fattening food in the world.  So where did my cravings lead me??  Red Robin.

This bad boy is how I started my meal.  Tower of onion rings.  "Momma!" Olivia cried as it arrived at the table.  "Are you going to eat all of that?!?"  Well, of course not!  But to think that I could is aaaahhh.mazing!!  5 rings into it I was toast.  The early signs of 'swelly belly' were beginning to show. Damn!  I still had a guacamole bacon cheese burger with jalapenos and fried onion straws to ingest!  I couldn't give up!!  I took one bite of that delectibly spicy concoction and got a mouthful of... salt.  How people eat this shit on a regular basis is beyond me.  I had to fight myself to finish half of my burger while downing two Dr. Peppers. Surprisingly, I didn't have any steak fries, but Eli finish all of mine plus a basket of his own. No surprise there.  And to finish off my night of complete gluttony... and tollhouse cookie ice cream sundae with whipped cream, toasted almonds and extra cherries.  This, I had no trouble finishing.  Damn.  1700 calories later, I was in misery.  Glorious misery.

I was curious to see how my body would respond to my indulgence, not that I had been planning this for an entire week... Picture #1 is Saturday morning before my workout.  Picture #2 is less than 12 hours later, after eating clean all day, but having my one (hellofa) cheat meal.  Wonder why our bodies look the way they do??  And no, there is no baby growing in the second one.




How assumptions can make you shit your pants

This is my week one of competition prep recap.  I know.  You are wondering what the hell I am talking about.  You are also noticing a recurring theme around our house, too.  It begins with SH and ends with IT.  Yep.  We've got a lot of shit going on.  All day.  Everyday.  But when you wear a diaper all the time and shit while simultaneously stuffing sweet potato fries in your mouth, what do you expect??  Only this time, the shit didn't come from the baby... nope.  This time it was me.  Shit.

Week one:  eat a shit-ton of food.  I mean a TON.  We are talking 2300 calories.  Everyday.  From sun up til sun down and even beyond (see my video about stuffing your face before bed).  I am constantly eating, constantly preparing food, constantly thinking about what food is coming next.  Good thing I don't have a full-time job to tend to right now because I would be dying (great thing about having summer's off - you get to fill up all your time with... food).

Making the food isn't the issue.  I love to cook.  I am getting creative with what I can do with the following:

cream of wheat

oatmeal

strawberries

bananas

peanut butter

protein powder

green beans

broccoli

chicken

more chicken

maybe a little salmon

Then there is the daunting egg whites scramble every morning. I haven't found many options here.  I feel like I am eating old man ball skin.  Or it reminds me of that.  So I gag.... get the chills... try to shake it off.  Then shovel them back in my mouth.  Mmmm.  Bet you won't look at your scrambled eggs the same again.

Training is good.  My trainer, Shawna at Big Jon Fitness, kicks my ass every time and I LOVE IT.  I love lifting heavy, I love feeling burning deep in my muscle tissue.  I love not being able to do one. more. push-up.  The other day I had the luxury of doing 200 walking lunges.  Yes, that's not a type-o.  I put 200.  That was loads of fun when children tried to climb onto my lap the next day and their little devilish elbows and knees and palms dug into my quads.  They had lots of fun with my uncontrolled convulsions of that deep muscular soreness from that deep muscular burn I was talking about.  Yay!  Look at Mommy!  She is spasming on the floor!  I wanna try that!  Let's all do the Mommy! Kids proceed to lay on floor next to you, on their side, shaking back and forth like a reeled in lake trout floping on the bank in the sand.

This is all well and good, but NONE of this is what made me shit my pants.  Lets get to that fun story.

It is a warm Friday afternoon.  Children are sleeping, husband is sleeping and sweet, little wife is in the kitchen, preparing a delicious and healthy salad.  This salad will serve dual purposes: to provide a side for a company picnic the family is attending tonight and also to ensure that family has a healthy option at barbeque (because we know what the staples are).  Unfortunately, sweet, little darling wife is unable to consume this delectable salad she is creating because she is on a strict meal plan.  Once she swigs down her chocolate/peanut putter/banana protein shake, she knows what comes next.  Salmon.  Salmon and broccoli.  Dinner of champions.  Well... this soon to be champion (cue Rocky music).  Shit.

She knows there is no defrosted salmon, let alone ready to grill in time for the bbq.  What is a girl to do?  You cannot, cannot veer from the plan.  No.  That is not what champions do.  Shit.  Think.  Think.  Think. OH! We made salmon earlier... as she says the word earlier, it slowly stretches its self out as if she's breaking it in syllables for a child to spell.  She knows earlier actually means multiple days ago.  Shit.  Did anyone eat that last fillet? Is it still even in here? 

Yep.  At the back of the shelf, underneath some pre-cooked brown rice sits a lone 5 oz. fillet of salmon. Already cooked.  Already seasoned.  Just waiting.  She grabs it off the shelf.  Peers inside.  Its still pink and their are no new life forms growning on it.  She opens the container.  Hmmmm. Smells like salmon.  Not fishy at all.  Hmmmm.  It doesn't have anything weird on top of it.  Hmmmm.  She puts her nose right up ontop of it and takes a big whiff.  Hmmmm.  This is where making assumptions can make you shit your pants.  It looked ok.  It smelled ok.  The corner even tasted ok.  So she drizzled a baby bit of agave nectar ontop then stuck it in the microwave.

She had no choice.  Meal time was coming and this was going to be her only option.  So after steaming some broccoli, she threw that and the salmon together and she was ready for the bbq.  She would not be tempted by the juicy cheeseburgers or glistening hotdogs.  She would not succumb to the delicious crispy, salty calling of potato chips.  No.  She was a champion.  She was going to eat her salmon and broccoli... even if it killed her.

Around 11 o'clock that night, she got that horrific, but familiar rumbling in her tummy.  They one that says Damn you!  You shouldn't have eaten that!  And the night of tossing and turning began...

The next day.  Yep. You know how this story ends.  I don't need to go into detail about the crampy or splattering or soreness from wiping all.damn.day. You have been there.  The kicker... it was the day of my 'cheat' meal.  The meal that I get to enjoy without any reprecusion.  The meal of ANYTHING I WANT!  Shit!!!  Get better. Get better. Get better.  I had big plans for this cheat meal!  The hope of knowing that single-handedly got me through my bowel revolt.  Mind over matter baby.  I enjoyed my cheat meal... and my 2 bowls of Tillamook Mudslide Ice Cream and was ready to get back on the wagon Sunday morning.

So, what, dear friends, can we learn from this tragic experience?  Never make assumptions.  About anything.  It will undoubtedly come back and bite you in the ass... while you are hunched over on the toilet, shitting your brains out.  Oh, and never trust a fart...

It's Bedtime... but I'm hungry!!

You should never, I mean NEVER go to bed hungry... here's a good lil' snack to help with the disappointing rumbling you feel in your guts right about the time you put your pj's on.  Your body knows it wants more food, but for some reason, your brain is telling it 'NO!'  Well, brain, you are stupid.  Listen to the stomach!  For once its not trying to trick you!  The answer, however, is NOT Tillamook Mudslide Ice Cream.  Enjoy, only not as much as if it really were ice cream.

Don't forgot to subscribe to my YouTube Channel for more tips, recipes and workouts. 

It's GO TIME!

Figure Training Begins.

I met with my new boss (aka trainer), Big Jon, last Wednesday then immediately went to USwirl and spent $20 on ice cream frozen yogurt (there IS a difference when you have been deprived for months). -------------F.

The reason I did this, lo and behold, is because my body was too accustomed to eating clean.  WHAT?!? I didn't realize that could happen!  My task until Sunday has been to "dirty it up" a bit.  The boss' orders.  By always eating clean, my body was used to breaking down and metabolizing all that clean food.  If I didn't throw it off for a short bit, then it won't respond well to this week's nutrition plan.  So I have been doing just that. 

At first I thought it would be AH.MAZING! But no. Mac 'n Cheese out of a box is disgusting.  So are frozen burritos (my lunch on Friday).  Little Caesar's pizza does NOT taste as good as I remember it did in high school - more like cardboard with cheese and a tiny bit of sauce.  Neither do nacho cheese Doritos.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!!!  I tried to indulge is some of my go-to favorites and they felt like a waste of mouthspace!  The one thing that did it for me... cooked to order cheeseburger with grilled onions, homemade french fries, onion rings with fry sauce and a Butterfingers milkshake.  Oh yeah baby.  Go big or go home.  Only I couldn't finish the fries... or the onion rings... and ended up sharing the milkshake with the babies because it was too much. -------------F.

I wanted to eat bad.  I really, really did.  Why don't things taste the same?!?  I only loved the greasy, salty indulgences... to a point.  But, they were still "real" foods.  I can see the potato with skin on the ends.  I can see the lines in the onion.  I could not see anything but a compressed chemistry experiment in my Doritos and Mac 'n cheese.  Maybe that's what I have to do - when and IF I get a cheat meal.  Stick with real, dirty food and avoid the fake, dirty food.  I am surprised to say that after my "dirty" behavior (Mr. Grey was not featured... this time), I am no more or no less than where I started. 138#.  ------------------F, well not quite.

This morning I begin my new diet.  Its not too different from what I have been eating, sans the past three days.  That means no more dirties unless its in the bedroom, but that's an a whole other blog post - or maybe a new blog entirely! (Let call that one "Sexual Intervention")  I meet with my trainer on Tuesday for measurements, pictures and a royal a$$-kickin'.  Looking forward to it!  I will have to post.  Hold your breath!

What a Difference a Year Makes!

I started this in June of 2011.  I was 8 weeks post-baby, 167lbs. and 29% body fat.  That means I had nearly 50lbs. of fat on my body!  That's a lot junk in my trunk!  Now, I am 138lbs. and 16% body fat.  That means I lost over 26lbs. of pure fat.  Well, of course I did because God know I didn't have much muscle to begin with!  You can see my progress was very slow over the past 12 months, but nonetheless present.  Anyone who says you can transform in 12 weeks is expecting you to make drastic changes.  I didn't start making those kinds of changes until February/March of this year.  Up until that point, I was just eating sorta clean and working out ~ 3x per week (not very heavy).  My stomach still needs some work and I have large pockets of deep, marbled fat all throughout my legs (thank you, genetics, you suck!) but I know I have changed.

If you are like me, I am sure you are examining each and every picture and comparing it to the next.  I know you are.  It ok.  I promise. There are changes.  Even if you don't really see them.  Get me drunk enough and I will show you my guns or have you feel my super-solid quadriceps.  :)  The point is, I know I am different.

I write this hoping to let others know that change does not happen overnight.  You didn't get to the current state you are in that way, so how do you expect to come out of it? I wasn't in good shape before I got pregnant.  I did get back to my previously "normal" state by the picture of the red top/black pants.  But I wanted better than that.  So I kept going!  I have gotten this far with my body but I am SUPER EXCITED to see how much farther I can take it.  I LOVE muscle and I love feeling/seeing/using my muscles each and every day.

My excitement has lead me to hire a trainer (all the above I did completely on my own!).  My intention is to actually compete in a Figure Show in late September.  I know I can stay at "healthy" on my own, just doing what I have done.  But it did take me one year to get to here.  I want to see some faster progress and some muscle separation.  Let the HIIT and carb-cycling begin!  I will take you along this roller coaster of a journey with me because - why the hell not?  I am transparent about everything else, from my bowel movements to my libido (though I promise they are not connected).  To date I am approx. 14-15 weeks away, depending on which show I do (undecided on that part).  Since I am paying for the expertise, I probably won't share all the gory details of my plan-of-attack, but I will share my feelings, trials, temptations, shitty moods, shitty pants... you get the idea.  I will be one hell of a mess.  A complete "shitstorm" as my 2 year old, Maia, would say. (back story is totally blog-worthy & will be posted, soon!)

In addition to competing, I am enrolled in a M.S. of Exercise Science program through Cal U.  I know.  I know.  Shoot me.  Or rather shoot my husband and my kids.  WhatthehellamIthinking??  Apparently I really like self-torture because raising 3 crazy kids, teaching 3rd grade, taking care of a house and a husband and trying to do it all while being healthy just wasn't enough for me.  Lets throw in some 2-a-day workouts, late night essay reading and writing and limited carbohydrates and food choices.  Oh, and who needs sleep because NO ONE in this house rarely gets a good night and that is always stellar for everyone's moods.

Holy shit.

What have I gotten myself into.

****If any of you know my husband, please check in with him oh... maybe September 1st to make sure he is a) still alive b) hasn't beat the living sh*t out of anything or c) is not a borderline alcoholic.****  All of the above are very viable possibilities.  Thanks ahead for the intervention.