Encounters of retail extraordinaire

<p>I just want to take a break talk a little bit about some of my favorite and not-so-favorite observations I've encountered in my retail experiences, living in the JO, and my gym experiences. I apologize in advance if this is you or a family member of yours, but please understand my observations are not malicious - just entertaining.
First of all, a giant bulge wrapped in black, shiny spandex entered my store last Saturday. It's owner was a middle aged man who kept referring to weightlifting as " pumping." I am sure most of us are familiar with the term, "pumping iron." Well, he left off the iron. This made me even more uncomfortable with the situation and I had to struggle to divert my eyes from his lower region as it was extremely apparent.
That same day, my brother and I had taken a trip to the store and on the way back we both spotted a shirtless and very tan man in Daisy Dukes style shorts. He was walking, or more like sashaying down the sidewalk, moving his arms like he was treading water. Is this some sort of new extreme walking exercise I've not heard of yet? What would possess someone to partake in such an activity, and in public nonetheless. My brother and I talked about it all the way home, still confused as to what he was working.

Not all encounters have ensued hilarity. In fact, today one of my regular customers informed me he needed extra protein because he was having surgery in two days. Being the concerned person I am, I inquired about what kind of surgery. He nonchalantly said he was getting his leg amputated. WHAT??? I couldn't believe it but just happened to look down at his right leg and it looked like it was rotting. He said he'd been waiting for this day for thirty years. Still, he is young and he has two young children. I let him know that I had the privilege to see a man speak at the GNC convention, who was the first triple amputee to ever finish the Kona Iron Man Triathlon. He remained in great spirits and was glad I told him about it. I love to laugh and often. I often laugh at myself. I enjoy sharing stories like those above. I have so many things to share of my retail experiences alone, that I could probably write a book about it. Some are funny, some are sad, and some will blow your mind. Stay tuned and once again, thanks for reading.

The ugly stuff no one tells you...

When I signed up and committed myself to competing, I was actually very excited to start the diet. I knew everything I ate was only to fuel the machine. I only ate things that would be my workout fuel so that I could build as much muscle possible, and burn the fat. During my competition diet, the only weight I lost was the last week. I lost a whopping three pounds. However, as I've said before, I lost 8% body fat, half my body fat in the eighteen weeks I trained. </p>
<p>With that being said, after I went back to eating "normal" again, I gained about five pounds. Five pounds may not seem like a lot to most, but when you're used to weighing 130-135 and you tip the scale to 140, it's cumbersome to carry the extra weight. I felt bloated, fatigued, and well, just plain fat. </p>
<p>After getting back into the gym, I still hadn't lost much weight. I had stopped preparing veggies every day, so I chalked it up to water weight and lack of cruciferous vegetables. </p>
<p>Three more weeks passed and I started feeling pain and a sort of thickness in my lower back. I had these same symptoms when I first found out I was expecting Koko bean, so I took two pregnancy tests. Nothing. No extra lines. No baby. </p>
<p>The pain wouldn't subside so I finally went to the doctor. After describing all my symptoms, the fluttering in my belly, the pain in my back, the bloating, the doctor ordered an X-ray of my intestines. Now, those who know me well, know I have never had an issue with my intestines. I mean, my system is like clockwork, so imagine my surprise when I found out the X-ray unveiled that I'm literally full of crap. The doctor showed me the picture of my digestive tract and sure enough, there are two white blobs on each side. He sent me home with a prescription for a stool softener and said to come back in two weeks. </p>
<p>All jokes aside about me being full of crap, I am really upset I wasn't told of these things before deciding to compete. No one wants to feel this way. Why would you do this to yourself more than once? Add the guilt of being away from your family, not being able to eat what they eat, being afraid to travel because your food is prepared beforehand, and NOW THE FACT YOUR INSIDES ARE FULL OF HARD STOOLS?  NO THANK YOU.

I have learned my lesson about extreme dieting once again. I am still trying to find out how to maintain a healthy balance. I am not one to be moderate. I'm an all or nothing girl. Only time will tell how I will cope.

On another note, the doctor did a full blood workup on me. All tests came back superbly, including my thyroid and my vitamin D levels. That would be complements of my GNC vitamin regimen. :)

The story of us

A little about us...

I never had a true boyfriend until I was 17. I have had three "serious" relationships, two of which I just chalk up to learning experiences. The third is with my Shanny. I met this guy in 2005. We met in the most romantic place possible to start a courtship- Wal-Mart. His nephew was an employee of mine and told me he wanted to introduce me to his uncle. First of all, the nephew was 20 years old, so how old was this uncle? Try twenty-six. Okay,  I was twenty-four. No biggie. About two weeks after we started dating, I knew this guy, who I met at Wal-Mart, was pretty special.

We have followed each other from city to city and since 2007, state to state. We have had our ups and downs. No relationship is "perfect." If our relationship was all roses and sweet nothings, I would probably have been totally bored. We know what makes each other click and we definitely know to how to push each other's buttons. But when push comes to shove, we've always made up and we never let anyone else put either of us down.

In late May of 2008, we had HUGE surprise. Actually, we like to call it a blessing in the form of a sweet, tiny, raven-haired, seven-pound, two-ounce, little lady who was born in January 2009. When I was pregnant with our little Koko Bean, everyone kept asking me if we were going to get married. I'm not going to lie. The thought crossed my mind, but very quickly. I knew when we were ready, we were ready, but this wasn't going to change the fact that we were Koko Bean's loving parents. Shanny is such a loving father that I'm afraid this little girl is spoiled rotten. I often play the bad guy.

Last month, the two of us took a trip to Las Vegas for the GNC Franchise Convention. This was the first trip we've had alone since before Koko Bean was born. We were extremely excited to go, not only because we knew we would learn a lot at the convention, but also because it was alone time for us. The day we left, as we were sitting at the airport, my college best friend's mom called with some very sad news. My best friend and sister in Alpha Gamma Delta had passed away due to complications from a double lung transplant she received last year. The rest of the day, all I could think about was her and her family.

Day two of our Vegas trip was not much better. I was constantly feeling guilty about being able to enjoy myself. I faked smiles after smiles, laughed at things that weren't funny, and prayed about my deceased friend. That night we were supposed to go out with a vendor of ours but Shanny told the other couple we were with to go without us. He wanted to take me out by himself.

We walked forever that night before our stomachs felt like they were eating our backs. I was so hungry, I said we should just get McDonald's. (If you know me, you know I despise eating McDonald's so you know I was ravenous.) We walked a little bit further to the Paris Hotel. We ate in a small cafe in the hotel and received some of the worst service we've ever seen at an eating establishment short of pouring our drinks on us (true story, but at least we got our drinks then.) 

After dinner, Shanny suggested we go look at the fountains at the Bellagio Hotel. I was hesitant but optimistic, thinking that it was just across the street. I don't know if you have ever traveled to Vegas, but you can't just walk across the street there!! I found this out the hard way. As we made our trek over to the Bellagio, I complained. I complained on the escalators. I complained when those weird card flipper guys aggressively tried to lure us in to one of their XXX rated clubs. I complained about the people, and the heat. When I look back on it, I wasn't really unhappy with Shanny or the trip. I was inwardly unhappy about my friend dying, but outwardly expressing it through everything tangible.

When we finally made it to the fountains, I stood in front of Shanny as he put his arms around me. The fountains were just getting ready to start back up again when he asked me if I was having a good night. I replied, "I guess." I guess??!! This man had pulled out all the stops on this wonderful night out for us and all you can say is "I guess??" What's wrong with you? Right after I said that, he said "well, maybe this will make it better," and turned me around to face him. As he pulled out a ring, he popped the question. It was a quiet and intimate proposal. He did not get down on one knee because there were a lot of people around, and if you know Shanny, you know he's not one to try to draw attention to himself.

The whole way back to our hotel, I was still hot, still uncomfortable, but I was also very happy. After all the heartache I had suffered from losing my friend, my Shanny had come through with a romantic evening followed by a proposal. Now, I'm not a mushy person, nor am I that girl who was doodling her name with her future husband's last name in history class, but this broke through my little wall.

After six and a half years, three dogs, and one child, Shanny and I have been through more than most married couples. We've struggled, we've fought, we've made up, and we've created this amazing little life together. We live together, work together and parent together. I'm thankful I was given this person whom I trust with all my heart. I'm looking forward to being his Mrs and finally sealing the deal.

Chocolate pb surprise protein bars

<p>1. 5-2cups ground oats <br>
3 very ripe bananas <br>
2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder <br>
4 scoops Amplify chocolate protein <br>
2 tbsp natural peanut butter or 2 tbsp Pb2 powdered pb
6 eggwhites
1/4 cup Stevia
1/4 cup unsweetened apple sauce
Mix all ingredients together.
Poor in a small pie pan, bake @350° for 15 minutes. Cut it like a pie.
Enjoy hot. Refrigerate in ziplock bag.
These are very satisfying and filling.

The Unhealthy Side of Healthy

After comtemplating my journey from this last year, and retiring from the well-known Facebook frenzy, I decided to share some of my thoughts in a more organized fashion, rather than one-word status updates. To begin, I am about six weeks out from doing my very first figure competition. That is six weeks out from the backside. For those of you who don't know what a figure competition is, I'll explain it very simply. You stand up on a stage wearing next to nothing as a panel of judges judge every single inch of your body. You pose in the most uncomfortable positions, even though they look simple, trying to make yourself look lean, symmetrical, and well, perfect.

(Apparently, I feel asleep on stage.)

I decided to compete after many of my GNC customers and trainers approached me saying I had "great genetics." The great genetics are compliments of my parents. My mother was an athlete. She even played junior college basketball when I was three and four. She also played slow pitch softball, volleyball and wollyball until she was 45. Now, she plays golf. My dad is also very athletic and very lean for the most part. I also attribute my discipline to my parents. Both are very hard-working, goal-setting individuals with a lot of passion behind them. With all of this passion, self-motivation, self-discipline, and of course, great genetics (muscle tone,) it was inevitable. I had to do it.

I lined up a trainer, paid money for him to write up a diet for me, and we started training legs once a week together. I trained the rest of my body parts on my own. The first month was grueling. I had never worked my legs that hard and my diet was killer. I was eighteen weeks out from the show

and I was not allowed to eat anything I really liked to eat. Red meat, yogurt, blueberries, and eventually peanut butter became off limits. I was strict about my diet eating only lean proteins like tuna, eggwhites, and ground turkey; and green veggetables at every meal, six times per day. "Where's the chicken? Don't most bodybuilders eat chicken all day," you ask. Chicken to me, is the most disgusting, fleshy, smelly, dirty meat on the planet. Especially after watching Food, Inc., I could go my whole life without eating another piece of chicken.

To make a long story short, I trained for two hours per day, six days a week, and worked my usual 40-50 hours a week at GNC. To make my story seem even harder, I'll throw in the fact that I have a two-year-old and a fiance (who proposed after I put him through this traumatic experience. Yeah, he's a keeper.) I prepped my food three days in a advance to have enough to eat six times per day. I was at the grocery store at least four times a week stocking up on fresh veggies like celery, cucumbers, asparagus, spinach, and let us not forget, EGGS!! Because I am against eating adult chickens, I ate at least twelve to twenty-four baby chickens (just the whites) every day. By doing the diet and the rigorous training, I went from 133 pounds and 16% body fat to 130 lbs and 8% body fat. The last three pounds came off the last week when I water depleted.

The week before the show, I was nervous and excited. Everyone kept telling me I was going to win. Of course they did. They're my friends. That's their job. The truth is I didn't win first place... in anything. I won fourth place out of four people in one division and I won third place out of five people in another division. I was however, confident that I would place top five in another division. I did not. As I stood there on stage holding the first trophy I received, the fourth place trophy, I smiled. In the back of my mind though, I was heartbroken...and pissed. I don't think I worked harder than any of those other competitors on stage,but I knew I deserved better. I was pulled aside by random people I didn't know, telling me how wonderful I looked and they thought for sure, I would win. Needless to say, the disappointment hasn't worn completely off yet, but it's taught me a lot about who I am.

I am NEVER content. I am strong. I am smart. I am beautiful. I am God-fearing. I am blessed. "Wait! You said you are all those things but you are never content?" Yes. I have so much to be thankful for that it's overwhelming. However, when it comes to myself, I want more. I want to better myself in more ways than to win first place in some political bodybuilding contest. I want to be the best Buff Blonde Mama possible.

When I look at all these pictures, I realize I will never look like that again. I will never be that tan, that vascular, that cut ever again, unless I put myself and my family through those eighteen weeks of hell that I put them through this last year. The problem is I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I long to keep that frame. I want to be just as "healthy looking" as I was then, but I don't want to train that long and I can't force myself to eat egg whites and celery every day for the rest of my life. This is where my unhealthy mental self plays game with me.

Because I looked like that once, in my mind, I feel like I should be that lean all the time. It's the post-show-I-can-eat-what-I-want-now blues. Now, I get to eat the things I wanted to eat for those eighteen weeks, but there's a reason I wasn't allowed to eat them then. To most people, eating things like blueberries and natural peanut butter seems very healthy. To those in the competitive world, they are a huge no-no, and when competitors get to finally eat those things, it's like a drug and the high is better than any high you can get besides that from a killer workout and cardio session. Like a drug though, there is a high and there is a low. When you come down from your "high," you look in the mirror and see a tiny imperfection. You don't see what others see. You look harder to find that your stomach has a slight pooch, or you now have a tiny bit of water retention on your bicep causing that vein you worked so hard on popping, to disappear.

It's a very sick and twisted world. The bodybuilding industry, whether they claim to be all natural or not, is full of narcissism and selfishness. It's fake boobs and spray tans. It's Barbie-tastic sequins and stripper heels. It's "look at me on Facebook," so hopefully I can get notced by some overrated supplement company  I know nothing about. It's hard work and discipline and sacrifice of time and money.

 Thanks for following me on this mission to find balance in my "healthy" life. I hope this blog can be used as a tool for those who are struggling with self-image and day to day food choices. I will throw in supplement advice every now and then, because hey, it's what I do. On the contrary, I will never try to make anyone feel guilty for cheating on their diet or tell them that a supplement will cure all their ailments.This is a new journey for me and once again, thank you for following.

 Sincerely,
Buff Blonde Mama