|A glimpse at my Halloween costume. And my|
abs. I'm proud of both.
I am effing hungry. I leave for my first fitness competition tomorrow and all I can think about is eating a carb sandwich that is fried in bacon fat. I realize that makes no freaking sense. That’s how bad I want really, honest, shitty food. Ironically, I have been eating a ton, but all the chicken, asparagus and more chicken just isn’t cutting it anymore. I need bread.
Really I think it’s mostly a nervous thing. Suddenly that thing I’ve been working toward for months is here. It seems like only a sort time I ago I was twelve weeks out. Well twelve became eleven and eleven became ten and now I’m here. One day.
On Saturday, I’ll be taking the stage to compete in the smallest bikini I have possibly ever seen – funny that’s also the most expensive I’ve ever purchased. I’ll be tanned and made-up and pose with perfection. But what you won’t see as I stand on stage and flirt with judges are the over twenty pounds I’ve lost (and that’s keeping in mind that I’ve gained a significant amount of muscle). You won’t see the two a days I’ve put in at the gym. You won’t see how strict I was with my eating. You won’t see all the work it took. You’ll just see the result in bejeweled baby blue and clear high heels.
Sitting here on the couch I’m honestly amazed with how strong I feel. I know that I have willpower and drive. Without either of those traits I’d never have found myself here. Even if I don’t place, at least I know that I can get myself to this place. And that is saying something no matter where I end up.
I’m nervous. I’m hungry. I’m excited. I’m ready. All I need is a ridiculous spray tan and some butt glue.
And a medium rare burger and fries on Saturday night. And popcorn. And beer. Eff it, take me to a buffet.