Last week, Brent and I met an older couple while riding the lift. We came down the mountain and ended up on the same lift with the couple again. Our third run down the man said, “We’ll just ride up with you guys.”

We learned they spent half the year in the Outer Banks where he works in the trades.

We learned they had two kids.

We learned about new runs we should try.

We learned they had started snowboarding together 15 years ago at the age of 50.

Rad!

That, my friends, is why I workout consistently. 

Sure a flat stomach is nice and strong shoulders look great in halter tops.

But the older I get the less those things really matter.

The people who inspire and motivate me the most are the people advancing in age who are hiking trails, snowboarding down mountains, running races, lifting some iron, and living life.

Once I read about a woman who died from getting thrown off a horse…

at 102.

For over 10 years that article of the elderly cowgirl has stuck with me.

God willing, that’s how I want to go. I don’t want to break a hip falling down the stairs.

I want to be thrown off the back of an Arabian (That’s my favorite breed and what I rode when I was younger.) while riding through the mountains.

Not to go all Bible on you but I’ve said before I’m a little Jesus flavored.

2 Timothy 4:7 – “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

I want to age gracefully but not passively.

I want to keep running figuratively and literally.

The only chance I have of being able to be literally finish running or be gloriously thrown off a horse at 102 is to eat real nutrient dense food and maintain my strength.

Eat real food.

and

Lift.

Lift your body. Lift iron. Lift big bags of dog food.

Just lift.

Lift heavy. Lift consistently.

Snowboarding, hiking, running, dancing, tennis, golf, or whatever activities you enjoy…they are all wonderful but they are all second to strength.

Strength is the foundation of every healthy body.

With that here are my workouts of last week. There was fresh powder a few days so my schedule was off. I’m also doing an upper lower body splits  after months and months of full body workouts. I still love (and prefer) full body workouts but I needed a change and my legs need a bit more rest since I’m snowboarding so much.

Monday – Rest
Tuesday – Strength Training – Upper Body Focus
Wednesday – Strength Training – Lower Body Focus
Thursday – Snowboard
Friday – Strength Training – Upper Body Focus
Saturday – Snowboard
Sunday – Snowboard (This was probably my best day so far. There was powder and I hit more black runs that day than any other day!)

I also walked every day. My lowest step day was 4,478 and my highest was 13,914 so I’m still on track for meeting my 3,000,000 step goal for 2013.

So how was your week? Why do you workout? Who motivates you?

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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The post Lift Heavy. Lift Consistently. Age Gracefully not Passively appeared first on Girl Heroes.

“Live your dreams”

A phrase so overused that it has about as much depth as a rubber bracelet it is seen stamped on.

Many of us have lost sight of our dreams. They got stored with our childhood toys and they didn’t hear that My Little Ponies made a comeback. Or cynicism is not cool.

While in North Carolina, we visited the Wilbur and Orville Wright Memorial at Kitty Hawke. It was powerful standing where the first human being took flight. Where two men lived their dreams.

The Wright Brothers didn’t achieve their dream to fly overnight. They took the time to change and refine their flyers until on December 14, 1903 Wilbur (who won a coin toss) would live his dream.

Except he didn’t. He oversteered and the flyer dove into the sand.

Bummer.

They made repairs and three days later it was Orville’s turn to live his dream and attempt the world’s first heavier than air human flight. He succeeded by going a distance of 120 feet.

Yep, that first flight only went 120 feet. A 12 second dream.

The second flight went a distance 175 feet.

The third went 200 feet.

The fourth went 852 feet.

Sixty-six years later a man walked on the moon.

Dreams aren’t trite.

My point is not that we will all change the course of human history like the Wright Brothers. My point is that we can all live our dreams whatever they may be. We can all fly” further than we can imagine with a little persistance and courage. If your first attempt fails make some tweaks and take off again.

And again.

The inscription on the bottom on the Wright Brother monument says, “In commemoration of the conquest of the air by the brothers Wilbur and Orville Wright conceived by genius achieved by dauntless resolution and unconquerable faith.”

There is no magic needed to live your dreams only resolve and faith.

“achieved by dauntless resolution”

“and unconquerable faith.”

This is how to take flight.

This is how to make a difference.

This is how to live your dreams.

Go soar. Even if it’s only for 12 seconds.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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(source)

Fitness trends change almost as fast as a Forever 21 storefront window and the last few years the use of the phrase “functional fitness” has rivaled the popularity of skinny jeans.  However, unlike skinny jeans, (I’d much rather wear these bell bottoms even if they are high waisted) functional fitness is here to stay like the little black dress.  Why?   It’s how humans were designed to move, unencumbered, in different planes of motion.

So what is functional fitness? In a nutshell, functional fitness is working out in a way that resembles normal everyday activities.  You train in such in a way that makes cleaning out the garage, moving boxes, unloading groceries, and sprinting after a toddler easier.

Unfortunately, the machines that take up the majority of your average gym floor just don’t do the same.  Unlike traditional weight training (training body parts separately), functional training doesn’t isolate body movements and trains the body as a whole.  Isolated movements like hamstring curls don’t often mimic real life situations.  Most strength training machines isolate muscles in a controlled way using seats and back rests to stabilize and support.  Have you have had muscular assistance in the form of a back rest or seat when wrangling a tantrum throwing toddler? Or how often do  you “curl” that heavy bag of dog food you just bought at Costco up into the car? If  you do please make sure to kiss your bicep and wink for me.    Hopefully, you are squatting down or “dead lifting” it up into the car.

Functional training most often involves standing on your feet while supporting and stabalizing all your body weight on your own without the help of a machine.  (Strong “core” anyone?) Functional training works the body as a whole and as a result balance, coordination, flexibility, power, agility, and strength improve.  That way when it’s time to hoist that heavy carry on bag (that you didn’t want to pay to check in) into the overhead bin on an airplane you won’t throw out your back.

For fun, I put together a series of photos that show some real life activities I’ve encountered over the last few months and a functional training exercise similar to the real life movement.

Battling a rug.

Battling a rope.

Lifting a paint can off the floor.
(This is when I actually came up with the idea for this post as I was almost falling on my face lifting the can I thought, “hey I’m doing a single leg dead lift”.)

Contralateral Single Leg Deadlift with Kettlebell

Stepping Up a Ladder with a Paint Can

Steps Ups with A Kettlebell

Squatting to Open a Paint Can

Goblet Squat

Carrying a heavy filing cabinet.

Double Kettlebell Rack Walk

Putting Away a Very Heavy Camera Case

Military Press

Shaking a Paint Can

Kettlebell Hot Potato

Certainly, kettlebells are NOT the only functional fitness tool around.
There are many but they just happen to be my favorite.

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Where do you want to be in 10 years?  When 2020 hits what do you want to look back and see?

Only one full day left of 2010.

It just seems like yesterday it was “Y2K”.   It just seems like yesterday I gave birth to a baby boy who is now 10 years old.

2000

2010  (Photographer)

Most days, I have peace about what I did with my last 10 years. I didn’t do nearly everything I hoped but I did graduate from college.  I stayed married to an amazing man.  I overcame borderline personality disorder.  I birthed two children. I stood by Brent encouraging him as he left the 9-5 world to start his own business. I graduated from the Second City Conservatory.  I forgave people who hurt me.  Brent and I made a short film.  I listened at times when I wanted to talk.  I wrote a full length screen play that sits on the shelf. :-/  I traveled to India, China, and South Africa assisting Brent in the making of a documentary.  I sort of overcame a fear and let my children play in the ocean. I gained, lost, gained,  lost, and maintained weight.  I became an ASCM certified personal trainer and an RKC.  I tried to teach my kids the importance of helping others. I competed in a few figure competitions.  I occasionally held my tongue.  I started two blogs. I homeschooled my kids full time one year and now homeschool part time.  I began competing in taekwondo.  Sometimes, I even loved when I wanted to hate.  That is, by far, the hardest.

I write this NOT to brag because it did take 10 years.  I write this because I want to reflect on and remember the things I did accomplish and the good choices I did make because there were also a hell of a lot of disappointments, failures, bad choices, selfish moments, hurtful words, bursts of anger, the death of friends, wasted hours on the internet, disease, rejections, hurts, and broken dreams. And I got a minivan. Truth be told, in the beginning of year 2000 I would have never dared to dream the decade would turn around as it did. In year 2000, I was newly married, depressed, and in the middle of an unplanned pregnancy trying to finish college.  I was going to therapy 3x a week just so I wouldn’t jump off a bridge. Literally.

Yet, I did the best I could believing that God had a plan for me.  He did. It may not look how I imagined it but He had a plan.

And…

He still does.  For me and for you.

2011

It’s just around the corner.

It’s a new year and we are moving into the next decade.  In 10 years, I want to look back and see a full life.  A life full of faith. Even if things don’t work out as hoped, I want to say I wasn’t afraid to dream. And I have no intention of passively letting the next 10 years go by and stand on the eve of 2020 wondering what happened. I want to be present. I want to breath in life with every cell of this aging body of mine. There are  10 518 975.3 minutes in the next 20 years.  Ten million, five hundred and eighteen thousand, nine hundred and seventy five minutes.  Each. One. A. Gift.

And I’m going to do my best to treat each one as so.

In the next 10 years, I’m going to….

Breath deeper.
Listen better.
Risk bigger.
Trust greater.
Forgive faster.
Love harder.

Starting now.

Everything else will fall into place.

What about you???   When you look back on the last 10 years are you happy with the choices you made?  Don’t be shy, I’d love to hear your accomplishments be they big or small!  What are your dreams for the future???  Where would you like to be in 10 years?

Happy New Year!!!!

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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This morning I did something spectacular.

I threw away some unreasonable expectations I had of myself.  Some mental clutter.  Some .0002 oz weights.

For years, I have had perfectly straight rows of turquoise post it notes taped to the wall behind my computer monitor.  On them I wrote “steps” that I thought would take me in the direction I wanted to go.  As I was cleaning my desk this morning, I realized some were more paralyzing than motivating.  Others were no longer relevant.   Still others made me feel like a failure.  It’s hard to move forward when you feel overwhelmed and confused.  So one by one, I peeled them from the wall.

Then I crumbled them into a ball…

…and put them in the trash.

I’m not throwing away my goals.  If you have read my blog for any amount of time you know I’m a very goal oriented person.  I will continue to set and reach goals, oh yes I will, but I at the same time I am choosing to allow myself the freedom to “just be”.  I’m giving myself more room to breath.  More room to play.  More room to love.  I’m re-prioritizing.  I’m setting new goals.  I’m wiping the droplets off of the bathroom mirror.  I’m letting go of unreasonable expectations and embracing new possibilities.  I’m moving forward into territories that are a little less charted and I’m excited.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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This weekend I spent my first weekend alone in my house EVER.  We won’t talk about how old I am and how SCARED I was.  Nor will we talk about how I refused to let anyone on Facebook know I was home alone for fear that I might be friends with a closet creeper.  Ya, never know.

Instead, we’ll talk about how much better Brent and the boys make my life.  Not only did Brent help turn this psycho into a princess his presence also makes me take showers, eat a variety of food, and shut cabinet doors.

So Friday night, Brent and the boys left for a Cub Scout campout.  I decided to stay home so I could sit around all day catch up of some stuff and avoid sleeping on the ground.  After they left Friday night, I went sparring class.  Speaking of sparring, check out the bruise I still have from the tournament.  Thanks MMA Mama.

After sparring class  I decided to get fancy in the kitchen and warmed up a microwave dinner.

Trader Joe’s Paneer Tikka Masala.

The next morning I got up and did my workout.  I FINISHED my second time through Enter The Kettlebell! Strength Secret of The Soviet Supermen (b/c I so want to be a Soviet Superman) by doing clean and press ladders  5X5 with the 12K (26lb) kettlebell.  Once you do 5X5 ladders it’s time to start over with the next size up.

Later, I was feeling SO CREATIVE I decided to make lunch.

Trader Joe’s Paneer Tikka Masala.

After a busy afternoon hanging on the couch with Meow Cow….

….I decided to make dinner.

Trader Joe’s Paneer Tikka Masala.

Meow Cow was not impressed.

This time I got all fancy and sautéed some squash, onions, and garlic in coconut oil to go with it because I do after all have a refrigerator full of veggies from my CSA.

Not only do Brent and the boys keep me from eating frozen food all the time, they also keep me from being the crazy cat lady.  Sort of.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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Hope you had a happy 4th of July weekend.  I have some fun news!  Our short film played in a local festival here in town.  Here is the trailer.[hana-flv-player video=”http://sunnylifemovie.com/SunnyLifeTrailer.flv” width=”450″ height=”250″ description=”Sunny Life Trailer” player=”4″ autoload=”true” autoplay=”false” loop=”false” autorewind=”true” clickurl=”http://sunnylifemovie.com” clicktarget=”_blank” /]

We shot this about 3 years ago (before I lost over 20 pounds and with sort hair) in my hometown in Indiana and finally finished the final edit about 8 months ago.  What can I say, I take my time.

Everyone once in a while I like to watch it again even though I’ve seen it at least 30 times (not counting the hours spent editing).  I watch it over and over not because I think it’s some great work of art.  It’s far from that.  I watch it to remind myself of something that I so often forget.  Sunny Life reminds me I can follow through.  That I can commit to something.  That I can persevere.  That I can choose to manage my time well.  We all CAN. Writing and shooting a film, even a short film, is a big job.  Any creative endeavor is a BIG job.  It’s sort of like getting fit.  You have a goal, a vision in your head, and every day you are faced with decisions to make choices that lead up to that goal.  You can write or paint or sew or _____ even when you don’t “feel” like it or you can put it off for tomorrow and stay right where you are.  You can workout today and nourish your body today or you can put it off for tomorrow.  Or the next day.  Or the next.

In general, don’t consider myself a very disciplined person.  Seeing our little film this weekend reminded that I can be if I want to be.  I also remind myself that for over two years, I’ve been consistent, not perfect, with my health and fitness goals.  Now it’s time to channel some of that discipline I’ve learned into other areas of my life. I think my soul needs it.

I’m want to know about you.  What creative outlets do you have?  (I STRONGLY believe EVERYONE is creative whether they believe it or not.) Any good time management tips you could share?  Do you believe in consistency over perfection? How do you feel about “discipline”?  Does it energize or exasperate you?

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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Ten years ago today a brand new chapter of my life was opened.

I gave birth to my son via an emergency c-section.

I was a senior in college and struggling with a severe mental illness
but
with his birth I God birthed a new me.

While life has not been perfect since (it never will be) something magical happened that day in the delivery room.  From that day on, the most severe of my “symptoms” subsided. (Some day I will share more details…maybe.)  Oh I still struggled with depression and “emptiness” from time to time (who doesn’t) and in 2008 I was hit hard with the mallet of depression but the words “check her in”  were never muttered again at least not by a psychologist. Soon after I was off my meds.  I was on my way to wholeness.  Maybe it was a shift in hormones.  Maybe it was a shift in brain chemistry.  Maybe it was the very new and tangible sense of purpose that comes with having a child.  Maybe it was spiritual.  It was probably a combination of all those and other things beyond my understanding.  Whatever it was I’m am grateful.
Thank you, Brent. Thank you, son.  Thank you, God.

Happy Birthday my dear kind creative son.
(Although you don’t read mommy’s blog.)
I doubt you’ll ever know the depths of healing your life brought to my life.
You are worth every fat cell, stretch mark, scar, and so much more.

I love you.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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I used to be a functional “psycho chick”.  I could hide it well until I got close to someone and I felt like I might be abandoned.  Once, I kept a boy who wanted to break up with me in my car all night long.  Every time he tried to get out of the car I would hurt myself.  After a long and painful night for both of us, I put my foot through the windshield.  Told ya I was crazy… and that was only the beginning of the crazy girl stuff.

This weekend marks 11 years since I met my husband and this is the story of how I went from psycho to princess.

Me.

I used to gel those swirls to my cheeks. Nice.

A funky girl with “issues”.  When I met Brent I was a 21 year old junior in college studying english lit and theatre.  I was lonely, insecure, and mentally ill but I was also creative, adventurous, and sincere.  I had moved out to California from Indiana at 18 because I wanted to be an actress and was trying to finish college in 3.5 years so I could move to LA or NYC. I should add that although I was crazy, you might doubt it from the outside. I also believed in God (the Jesus-y God) and had since I was in 7th grade.

Brent.

A quiet pensive guy who was also a bit lonely.  He had been a drummer in a band and was lucky enough to have toured the country and parts of the world.  When the band broke up he worked in the bookstore at my college, where he had graduated from 4 years earlier.   Although the college was small I had never met him.  A few months prior to our meeting he had gotten a job at a skate park where he was going to make skateboarding videos but ended up designing websites instead.  He too believed in God.

We were neighbors, literally living right next door to each other but didn’t know it.  Yet.

A week before we met.

I was in Scottsdale, AZ, visiting my grandparents.  I had lived in Scottsdale the summer before maxing out credits at the community college and ASU because, like I said, I wanted to graduate early so I could move to the city.   Every time I go to Scottsdale, I visit the church I went to that summer.  On this visit, a boy who I was friends with asked me if I wanted to hang out that night.  It was Valentine’s Day and I remember sitting in his living room, his perfect living room in his perfect middle class home, imagining what it would be like to be married to him.  It freaked me out.  Not a little.  A lot.  The thought made me feel like someone was locking me away in a dungeon filled with spitting cobras.  I’ve never been the princess-looking-for-the-knight-type of girl.  Too many issues I guess. Late that night after returning to my grandparents house I found myself kneeling on my bed, praying.  This was my prayer, “God if you want me to get married You better make it crystal clear because there is no way I am going to lock myself in a dungeon on my own.  Amen.”

The following weekend.

Have no idea how we got this photo but it’s from the night we met. (No I’m not wearing a jean jumper.)

My girlfriend and I were having a party at my house.  We had the best parties.  We would line our long hallway with butcher paper and tack boxes of crayons to the walls so people could draw.  We had muscians playing, belly dancing, poetry readings.  It was great fun.  That night, I was in the kitchen preparing for one of our parties. I was chopping away at the kitchen counter wearing red hair extensions that fell to my waist and homemade beaded  false eyelashes when my friend, Ed, poked his head through my front door.  With him was Brent.  Brent. Brent. Time froze.  Standing on my doorstep was the most beautiful human being I had ever seen.  I loved him that moment.  Maybe not deeply but I loved him and nobody will tell me otherwise.  Ed introduced us and just struck by Cupid’s arrow I mumbled the most clever of clever questions “What do you do?”.  His response, “I’m a filmmaker.”  Gaining my composure, I responded, “Reeeally, well I’m an actress” holding out my hand flirtatiously to be kissed.  True.  We were ridiculous.  That evening we had a magical time dancing and hanging out. I didn’t want the the night to end and I don’t think he did either. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, he walked back over to his house…next door.  I stayed at mine.

The next evening.

Again he showed up on my doorstep.  He was trying to be chivalrous.  I opened my door wearing a black turtle neck and thick black glasses.  “Jenn?” he said?  Yes, it’s me.  We sat on my couch and talked for hours.  I had to ask what he thought about God.  Although I was crazy and had 5,698,000,000 issues to work through, I knew one thing that a relationship without God wasn’t going to work for me.  So I said, “What do you think about God?”  His answer, “What else is there?”  His simple answer rang deep within me in a place I can’t adequately describe.

A week later.

We were dancing slow and listening to music in his room.  In my head, like a dream, I saw us dancing in front of what felt like the feet of God.  Brent was kissing my head and drops of oil were forming.  The drops of oil were stacking up on top of one another, a glistening tower reaching up to God.  It may sound weird and I suppose it was but it was also beautiful.  So beautiful that I hugged him tightly.  In that moment, I heard these words, “You are holding your husband.”  It wasn’t an audible loud-speaker-booming-bluelight-special voice but I could hear it as certain as I am alive.  “You are holding your husband.”   It had been two weeks since I was on my knees in Arizona.

The next two months.

No I didn’t tell him about the dream or the voice.  I knew better.  I started praying and fasting every Monday and asking for “a sign”.  Over the next few months, the crazy girl began to come out. I found out there was a name for my mental condition, Borderline Personality Disorder. (That’s another post entirely.) I read a book on the disorder and while most people find labels restricting I found freedom.  Finally, I knew there were others who felt like me and while statistically the prognosis looked bleak I was determined to not lose what I had found in Brent.  How did Brent repond?  He continued to love me.

Somethings I’ll never understand.

He loved me through every up and down and honestly during that period of our lives there were more downs than ups.

I “surprised” him by handing 30 Promax bars from his ceiling with dental floss.

We had met at the tail end of February and it was now April.  In a few weeks, I was to leave for a month’s study in Israel.  After Israel, I was planning on spending 10 days in London by myself.  I had been there a few years earlier and fell in love with the city.  I teasingly said he should meet me in London.  The next day he surprised me by saying he had bought a plane ticket.  He also joked about getting married.  That’s it.  That was “my sign”.

I’m easy to please.

Israel

In the Dead Sea.

Israel was one of the most amazing places I have ever been.  I wandered the stones paths of old Jerusalem and swam at dawn in the Sea of Galilee pondering my faith and future. Still the ancient marvels of Petra (in Jordan) and the weighlessness of the Dead Sea could not compare with my thoughts of Brent. I counted the days, the hours, the minutes, until I would be able to feel his embrace again.  While in Israel, a friend and I discussed our thoughts of marriage.  I had not told a soul about the dream or the voice the night we danced in his room.  However I said, if I ever get married I want a single small solitaire to symbolize simplicity.

London (3 months after we met)

I had arrived in London a day before Brent was to arrive. One of the longest nights of my life was that night I spent alone in a bed and breakfast London (in King’s Cross nonetheless) waiting for the sun to rise.  London was what you’d expect from two young adventurous people in love.  We risked our lives by renting a car venturing out into the Cotswolds.  We put waaaaay too many amazing meals on the credit card.  We stayed up late dancing the night away.

We visited museums, famous sights, and cuddled on park benches.  We also got engaged.  One night he slipped away to call my parents to ask for permission. Late that night in a conversation he asked sweetly, “Will you marry me?”  I simply said, “Yes.”

It is the best thing I’ve ever said.

We were excited and couldn’t sleep.  Finally, in the early hours of the morning, we hopped on the tube and went down to the Thames river to walk and talk about the wedding we were now planning for December.  The sun was barely up.  Brent bought a muffin from a corner convenience store and we strolled happily along the Thames.  Just as Brent was about to bite into his muffin bird poop fell from the sky landed on it.  He looked at me and exclaimed in disgust, “A bird just shit on my muffin!”  Laughing, he threw it into the Thames.  I learned that day no matter how wonderful things are shit still happens.  It just does.  To everyone.

We can’t control the shit but we can choose our response.

Wrap Up.

Brent ended up buying me a ring in London.  The first one we saw in an little unassuming jewelry store on a random street.  It is a small simple solitaire that I love to this day and have no plans of ever replacing for something bigger.  We said our first vows to each other alone in a small church in the Cotswolds.  We ended up moving our “official” wedding from December to October. We had a small simple lovely wedding.

We used a Lego theme because from the first weeks of our meeting he always said, “We fit together like Legos”.  “Like Legos” is inscribed inside our wedding bands.

I never made it to LA or NYC to live full time like I had dreamed since childhood.  Thinking back on my mental state it was probably for the best and I married my soulmate.  I wouldn’t trade him for all the world.  

The bliss of marriage didn’t take away the cloud of mental illness in our life, in fact, in some ways it complicated it.  It would take 5 years of therapy, tears, hard work, perseverance, prayer, and unconditional love until I could confidently call myself healthy.  Even then depression would still creep back into my life from time to time. Once I combined all I had learned from therapy with healthy food, exercise, and faith that God loved me because I am me, I was able to step outside myself.  I was able to begin to see my potential and the potential of others.

The Playlist

Camping alone in the Sequoias last summer.

If you’ve made it this far thank you for taking the time to read the most important story of my life and my most vulnerable post to date.  At this point, you may be wondering what the hell any of this has to do with a playlist.  It does.  When Brent and I met 11 years ago this weekend, music was one of the first things we found we had in common.  Both of us had hundreds of cd’s many of the same ones: Radiohead, The Cure, Depeche Mode, Bjork, New Order, The Velvet Goldmine Soundtrack, The Smiths, Smashing Pumpkins, Led Zepplin, Nirvana, Portishead, Yo La Tango, Air, to name a few.

I love music.  All sorts of music from the more obscure to Britney Spears to Kiss.  (I’m sorry my love.)  I have playlists for certain moods or events.  In honor of meeting my soulmate, who has loved me for 11 years on my journey from psycho to princess (He makes me feel like one), I made a playlist based on our common cd collection.

Love Song – The Cure (Possibly the best love song ever.)

The Whole Shebang – Grant Lee Buffalo, Velvet Goldmine Soundtrack

We Carry On – Portis Head  

There is a Light That Never Goes Out – The Smiths

Violently Happy – Bjork (Best song title ever!)

It’s No Good  – Depeche Mode  

Street Spirit – Radiohead  

True Faith – New Order  

Autumn Sweater – Yo La Tengo  

Bullet with Butterfly Wings – Smashing Pumpkins  

Sexy Boy – Air  

You can listen to snippets of the entire playlist here.

Enjoy and thanks for reading.  Have a wonderful weekend.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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The post From Psycho to Princess Playlist appeared first on Girl Heroes.

Went to the cupboard.
Despite being close to the show.
When she got there
The cupboard should have been bare
Since she has trouble with “NO”.

Here’s a recap of the competition from yesterday.

The competition was an hour away from my house (w/o traffic) in Hollywood so I had decided I’d drive down in the morning which meant I got a good nights sleep in my own bed.  I got up at 6 am put on another coat of tan because I looked more like child who had been playing in the mud under a sprinkler than a “glamourous” figure competitor. After the tan I put on my face and Brent took a few pictures before I headed out to pick up my friend Martha.

Slowly growing some lats.

Only shot where you can see The Abbeys.

We get to to the high school where the show was being held and walk into the “athlete’s meeting”.  Which I  get a kick out of because I’ve never considered myself an “athelete”.  I’m just a girl who is obsessed with nutrition and likes to workout hard.   Right away, I notice that it was a much younger crowd than my last competition.  It’s not that I’m old but 31 and two kids definitely feels different than 20 and no kids when I am about to go onstage in a bikini.

After the meeting, I go backstage to find a space in the dressing room.  Good thing this is a small show because the dressing room is the size of a closet.  I start wishing I had a brown paper bag in case I hyperventilate.  The men check in first and then the women move out to the lobby to check in.  I notice this one beautiful girl who is walking around with her shirt held up with a hair clip to show her GODDESS abs.  Seriously.  I have NEVER seen abs like that on a woman. Miss Abs was also naturally tan, tall, with long exotic dark hair.  I’m sitting there feeling like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s sister and praying that she isn’t in my class.  The check-in lady calls for the novice figure women and Miss Abs stands up.  I mutter something like “Oh %$#&” and immediately start wishing I had stayed out of the peanut butter jar and did a little more cardio.  The peanut butter just didn’t’ seem worth it standing next to Miss Abs.   As she is paying I look down and notice her fancy iphone has picture of herself as the screensaver.  Normally, I’d roll my eyes at such sillyness but in the moment  I’m thinking I’d do the same thing if my tummy looked that good.  In fact, I’d probably put a billboard of myself in my front yard if I had abs like hers.  Damn peanut butter.

So I go back to finish getting ready because of the heat my face looks like my 6 year old did my make up while I was sleeping. Let’s just say I’m a little white (or fair as I call it) and getting to my face to match my body and then stay that way is like trying to freeze a chocolate bar in a hot car.

This is a drug tested competition which means I have to pay $60 to pee in  cup.  The girl gives me the cup and looks at me as if I’m supposed to squat right there in the middle of the dressing room.  Motioning to the one room bathroom I ask, “Can I go in there?”.

“Sure but I have to watch?”, she replies.

What???   She has to watch.  Give me a break.   I don’t even go to the bathroom in front on my husband and I’ve had very little water the past 12 hours.  I sit there and try act like this is no big deal by making stupid jokes.  After 5 or 6 minutes I’m running out small talk and realize God is not going to answer my prayer the way I want.  I let her know I just can’t.  “We’ll get it later,” she says.  Yipppeeee can’t wait.

As I said this is a small show so it’s moving really fast and before I know it I’m waiting in the wings of the stage to go on.  I’m doing my best to remind myself that I did this to LOSE but seeing the young tight girl next to me is making me feel like Old Mother Hubbard who went to the cupboard too many times.  But the cupboard wasn’t bare.  In fact, the cupboard had Costco size jars of peanut butter.  They call my number and for a minute I think maybe I really am an “athlete” as I imagine sprinting through the auditorium in 5 inch heels.  I survive going onstage although I’m smiling at the judges as if they are holding loaded guns instead of score cards.  Now we have a 3 hour break until the night show.

The really nice thing about this show is the location. Not only is it relatively close to my house but it’s on the corner of Melrose and Fairfax which means Urban Outfitters (Yes I’m 31 and still shop at UO) and a bunch of other fun little stores are within walking distance.  And since it’s Hollywood I don’t feel like freak with my orange runny “tan”, in fact, I feel like I fit in even more.  Martha and I go to Crossroads Trading Company.  It’s a buy-and-sell-used-clothing store and every time I go I find something cute and cheap.   This time it was a pair of Joe’s Jeans in a size 26 (no stretch mind you) for $30.  They were a tight 26  but after walking on the stage next to “I’m 20 with the prefect body” they were just what I needed to give the ego a lift.

After some shopping and pizza we walked back to the high school for the evening show where they hand out the awards.  I’ve drank big glass of green tea so I manage to serve up the urine sample with a side sarcasm.  I seriously considered leaving but decided against mainly because I’ve spent much of my life starting things and not following through.  It’s a pattern I’ve been working really hard to break so I go back to feel like Old Mother Hubbard one more time.

Right before I walk on stage it occurs to me that this is so not me.  I love to dress up just as much as any girl.  I love to feel beautiful just as much as any girl.  But figure competitions are just not my idea of beauty and glamour.  Not that they aren’t glamourous and beautiful in their own right but unlike a lot of girls nothing about the look but the muscle appeals to me.  I have always loved old school retro glamour.  Fair skin, red lips, elegant dresses, and classic hair. That’s the style I’ve always  gravitated towards (aside from my one year as a cheerleader in high school) when I want to feel beautiful. In that brief moment, I don’t think I have ever felt more like I was somebody else in my fake tan, tiny bikini, stripper heels, and over the top make-up.  It was surreal and I started to ask myself some questions but before I could get into my deep nonsense about why I was doing this they called my number.  While I was onstage I suddenly felt a strong sense of peace and okay with who I was despite having logs instead of legs.  I looked for my friend so I could give her a smile and I smiled a real smile at the judges.  They lined us up and started to give hand out placings.  I was fully expecting to hear my number first which means I would have received 4th or last place.  When they called Miss Ab’s (The pictures do NOT do her justice.) number I was really shocked.  Then they called my number for 3rd.  The girl in the green was 2nd.  The girl in the pink was first.  (She was totally adorable btw and very much deserved 1st.)

My friend and I decided we would leave early so I rush backstage eager to put on my new jeans.  I hike them up over my thighs and button them pleased as pie to be wearing a size smaller than before.  Then I squat down to pick something up off the floor and RIIIIIIIP.  No joke.  My new ego inflating jeans just deflated my ego like someone letting go of an unknotted balloon filled with air.  I don’t know wether to laugh or cry.  I decide to choose laughter because there is SO MUCH more to life than the size of the my jeans.  Besides who needs those stupid old Joe’s Jeans when I have The Braxtons.

So how do I really feel about my placing?  You know of course I would have enjoyed winning. Who doesn’t?  I was also a little relieved not be be last but I also sort of feel like I should have been.  I thought Miss Abs looked really great and could tell she had worked hard.  Had I been a judge I think I would have placed me last.  The thing is, it really doesn’t matter all that much to me.  It never has been about winning for me.  When I say I enjoy the preparation more than the show I mean it.  When I say do this to lose I mean it.  I didn’t reach 115 but 119 feels so much better than 126 to me.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again I grow and learn from the preparation.   I didn’t give this contest preparation a 100% and that’s not good.  Not because of how I placed but because I ultimately believe in good work ethic, following through 100%, and doing what you say you will do.  Had I won it would have re-enforced my half-azz tendencies.  I’m going to hang my third place plaque in my garage right under my first place plaque NOT to remind me that 100% effort will get you a first but that a 100% effort is so much more satisfying than 90% regardless of the outcome.

So what’s next?  Well I was delighted to step on the scale this morning and see 119 so I should probably work on getting over the scale.  But I digress and I still want to reach my goal of 115.  Honestly, I’m not sure why.  It’s just the number I’ve had in my head as my “perfect” weight which is total crap because perfect is relative and happiness is certainly not found in the bathroom on my scale.   Regardless, I want to follow through and reach my goal even if it didn’t happen on my competition day.  My birthday is 2 months way so that gives me 8 full weeks to lose 4 pounds and buy a pair of  size 26 jeans for my present!!!  Totally doable and healthy.   Although I’m tempted, I’m not going to do any more shows for a while because I think I should practice managing my food and exercise better for my family, myself, and for God.  I want to face some of my struggles with food (binging) head on for no other reason than it’s the healthy thing to do.   I’ve been wanting to learn how to use kettlebells so I’m going to start incorporating those as well.  I’m going to finally buckle down and get my personal training certification instead of talking about it.  I’m going to focus more effort on my taekwondo because at my  last testing I got some good feedback from my instructor and one of the guest judges.  I think it might be more in line with my natural strengths (flexibility and speed) not to mention I’m more comfortable in my uniform than a bikini!

Last but not least, I’ve been working on some changes for this site.  I’m SO EXCITED and I hope that these new changes will encourage and inspire more women to “change the world by choosing health”.  (Yes, I dream big!)  So stayed tuned to be a part of the mission!!

Once again THANK YOU so much for the support (and making it to the end of this long post). I’m grateful for your readership and want you to know how much YOU inspire me.

XOXO
jenn

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The post Old Mother Hubbard appeared first on Girl Heroes.