As you may have noticed, my posts have become a little sporadic. I promise there’s a good reason I’ve neglected my reading commitments. Not only have I been writing a chapter a day of my novel for the past couple of weeks, but I’ve gone and done it folks! I’ve signed up for a fitness competition. After talking for three years, procrastinating, waiting, and generally wimping out, I’ve paid my entry fee, dieted like a mad woman since January, and spent hours upon hours in the gym sculpting what I could in the timeframe I had.
The BIG DAY is June 16!
Now, all I have to do is buy a tiny bikini, practice walking in five inch heels, and get a really, really dark tan. Although I’ve always been a fitness fanatic and a healthy eater, I have never been so sick and tired of chicken breast (and tilapia). Aside from my one blissful week in Disney World, when I allowed myself to eat what I want, when I wanted, it’s been nothing but chicken, fish, brown rice, egg whites, lots of green veggies and plain oatmeal. I’ve recently started eating more steak, which is heaven sent and much needed flavor for my bored palette.
It took some time to convince my mother of the idea who, initially, didn’t buy the whole “fitness beauty pageant” thing. She kept asking: “Why do you want to be judged?” Eventually, she came around when I told her it was a personal goal, something I’ve always wanted to try, just for me. This is not about winning. This is about proving to myself that I can do it; I can put in the effort and be disciplined. Because, honestly, if I can eat chicken for weeks on end, go to the gym when I don’t feel like it, and do stupid amounts of cardio when I’d rather sleep in, then I can do anything I set my mind to. It’s building the knowledge that the world is what we make it.
For the longest time, I was stubborn to think I should wait to compete until I was in perfect condition. I wanted my shoulders to look a certain way, and my legs (like most women) were being annoyingly stubborn. But, if I wait around for perfection, we all know that won’t happen because… well, obviously, perfection isn’t real. It doesn’t exist. What’s real are the bodies we have now, the lives we live today, and being happy with our genetics. We can wish for something we’ll never have, or we can learn to love our current situation. I choose option two.
So, for better or worse, no matter how my calves or abs look, this bookworm is strapping on heels and a bikini. (Let’s just keep our fingers crossed I don’t trip onstage!)
For posterity and your entertainment, a list of everything I’ve been craving for the past few months: fatty maple muffins from Walmart, Kraft Dinner, dill pickle chips, waffles, pancakes, cinnamon buns, peanut butter flavoured anything, ice cream, mile high apple pie from Memories café, cheesecake of any kind, peanut butter filled pretzels, chocolate covered blueberries and cherries, Clodhoppers, cheesies, pasta, gummy bears, praline almonds. Believe me there’s more, but my mouth is already starting to water. This is torture.