Birthday Banter- lessons learned in 27 years of trudging, stumbling, and frolicking through life

On the eve of my 27th birthday, 

I  lightheartedly, but honestly, reflect on a few big lessons I've learned.  My days, thoughts, years and experiences basically revolve around the topics of health, work, and relationships so here I share my oh-so-enlightened wisdom on the subjects.  Please feel free to enjoy, roll your eyes, ignore, laugh, or kindly smile at the fact that I have so much more to learn.

The Bod:

If you feel like crap in your body, you need to change something: either your body, your mind, or both.

This is not a “you are amazing in any shape, size, or color ” mantra.  

Because while those are nice, I've learned reality gets results.

You may not look great.  You may look like the bottle of vodka that mixes really well with grenadine and Sprite that you've been tossing back at happy hour.  You may look like you've seen the inside of a Pinkberry at 11pm a few too many times.  You may actually, feel like old baloney and well, look like it.

Conversely, you may look toned, fit, and be the envy of every bloated woman that passes you on the street and feel like crap.  You may go to the gym, rocking Lululemons and biceps, and see an unhappy woman on the treadmill in the mirror in front of you.

Sometimes you’re going to feel bad and look bad.  Sometimes you’re going to look externally great and feel bad.  Many people are going to tell you you’re beautiful, wonderful, and should love yourself but if you feel like crap, YOU need to change something. Not your mom, not your boyfriend, not your best friend. 

I've experienced both of these bodies and each of these mindsets.  I know now to step back, look inside, and be damn honest with myself.  

In college I was hitting the ol’ bag of Franzia on the regular and created a delightful blend of self-consciousness and sugar on my waistline.  I needed to change my habits and subsequently, my body.

A couple years ago I was tanned, toned, a cardiovascular gazelle and often felt like crap.  I felt like this sculpted vessel I was living in was never good enough.  I thought my body was my identity and nothing else.  I needed to change my habits and subsequently, my mind.

You deserve to feel good in your body.  If you don’t, something needs to change.  Sometimes it’s the hard realization that midnight pizza ends up on your butt.  Sometimes it’s the realization that your butt is not your character.

Career and Ca$h Money:

You need to work.  Shocking.  

Not the work you've entertained in high school or college, but real work. The work that makes you question who you are in life and why you're wearing a pantsuit at 7am.  Maybe it's not a pantsuit and maybe it's not in an office but the work that makes you uncomfortable. The kind that makes you realize life is not a venti chai in a coffee shop window with a macbook, Uggs, and browser open to Pinterest.

I have found in my meager little experience that while the above situation is delightful, it is horribly comfortable.  Literally (new Uggs feel like a hugging lamb) and figuratively.  And nothing is produced from comfortable.

You're going to need to feel tired, worried, stressed, overworked and underpaid.  To create change you need to step out of comfort and into early mornings with frosted windows and uncomfortable shoes.  You're going to need to hear negative feedback, ask hard questions, get hung up on, and spill coffee on your shirt.

I've learned that the cute turquoise and cream pillow I'm holding in HomeGoods comes out of my paycheck.  That my bank account will cut in half when I submit a loan and I will do it again next month.  That money is a real thing, progress is a real thing, and you need to get pretty damn far out of your comfort zone to earn both.

Hashtag Love:

We all know what it’s like to be the “cool girl.”  The girl that’s carefree and tells you we’re, “fine with whatever you want babe.”

The girl that genuinely likes football and knows it’s wing night.  Or maybe the girl that reads English poetry and paints in t-shirt dresses with cat eye glasses.  Or whatever the hell else you like that we want to be.

That girl has an expiration date.

Pretty soon the wing-eating, Keats reciting, watercolor mixing, touchdown celebrating girl is going to realize that she hates painting and doesn't give a damn that your team is losing.  Pretty soon she’s going to question who she is, why she’s with you, and you’re going to miss the girl that ate at whatever Groupon you were inboxed that day.

I've been a hippy, bar hopper, and poet.  I've been a mix of all three.  I've been whatever I thought would get “that guy” to think I was cool.

That girl expires because I now know I’m me.  

I’m sometimes funny, sometimes annoying.  I like good salads with grilled chicken and don’t want to pretend I can eat a 5lb burger.  I get lost while driving in the city and freak out about it.  I’m sometimes entertaining and sometimes a snarky crab.  

I don't wear sexy clothes to bed- they get twisted up my butt.  They invented sweatpants for a reason.  I don't wake up looking sun-kissed...that's called sneaking out of bed 20 minutes before you wake up so you think I'm the bronzed angel you went to bed with.  I'm not, and I have mascara crust in my eye. 

It's taken 27 years but I've realized this girl is me and this girl isn't going to expire.

High Heels, Hairspray, and Hard Life Lessons

I could write about progression, defeat, or success.  I could write about pre-show excitement, post-show transition, or the importance of bringing a mirror to the competition venue.  I could recommend suit colors, how to wear your hair, or the difference between 4 and 5 inch heels.

There's a lot I could write about when reflecting on this past show season and because of the options, I haven't written anything yet.  There are a plethora of themes I've entertained and a surplus of thoughts I could share.

Do I write about what it's like to arrive at a show after 2 years off and not feel confident with my physique?  Do I write about how I worked my arse off to make changes and stood incredibly proud four weeks later?

These are all good, true thoughts and I could certainly find enough to write about with each one.  But there's a theme that keeps resurfacing, keeps nudging at me, and wants to be shared.

Time and again the only word that continues to reappear in my mind is, quite simply, gratitude.

A plain word not often associated with bodybuilding, fitness, or bikinis but a word I can't seem to shake.  When I've thought of flashier, more entertaining, comedic, eye-catching topics, this word just keeps popping into my little blond head.

When I decided to take some time off the stage I didn't know I would have to question if I would ever get back on.  I figured I would take a little time, improve, maybe grow some muscles, and then dive right into prep again a year or so later.  I had no idea I would move states, get a new job, lose mobility in my body, spend each night with ice under my back, undergo MRIs, and get diagnosed with something that would be part of me for life,

When I was on the hospital bed, after waking up at 3am to work 12 hours, and listening to the whirring and clanking of the MRI; standing on a stage in a bikini was the furthest thing from my mind.  I didn't know if I was about to hear good news, bad news, or if I would get home in time to sleep 6 hours before going to work again.

This prep wasn't easy but it was incredible because I was able to do it.  After learning what early onset arthritis was and the means to help and improve it, I was able to do this strange, silly sport once again.

When I stood and felt cold spray tan hit my back, I was thankful.  When I was able to turn my hips onstage and see my Nana in the crowd, I was thankful.  When I danced around with the other ladies backstage, I was thankful.

I am thankful for the man that made me chicken and told me I was beautiful when I posed on Sunday mornings with bedhead and pajamas on.  I am thankful for the mom that cheered my name as I strutted and turned.  I am thankful for the coach that kept me healthy, energized, and motivated.

I am grateful for each judge that spent their day endorsing a passion.  And grateful for each promoter that worked for months so I was able to share smiles with other tanned strangers.  And so grateful for each kind word, positive comment, and sincere encouragement from friends, peers, and colleagues.

When you have a passion, as silly as it may be, and you don't know if you will experience it again, you perceive it a bit differently when you do.  Little, somewhat insignificant details are clear and wonderful.

Above all else, I am grateful for my body.  For the vessel that doesn't just let me stand in high heels and a bikini, but the machine that allowed me to experience a passion once again.

This past show season was incredible because I could do it.  It was amazing because my body could move and my mind could comprehend. I took those small things for granted before and now, I am grateful.