Preserving Your Hot Cross Buns- 5 tips to beat those holiday hangovers

I woke up yesterday with a full stomach, slight headache, and the furthest thing from any kind of pep in my step.  After a groan and a sigh, I clomped to the shower and turned it on with as much gusto as a slug on a summer sidewalk.  The next endeavor of putting on makeup, pulling a brush through my hair, and finding something other than drawstrings to put on my body was almost too much for my Monday self to handle.

Yesterday morning I was giving no kind of thanks to Thanksgiving.  

While the treats were delicious, the company incredible, and the laughs plentiful; my body was camped out in Struggle City.  I am used to treating my body like a machine- with timers, schedules, and well planned sustenance.  This blonde machine got unplugged the past few days and it’s taking its grand ol’ time to get back up to speed.

That puffy, fatigued feeling?  The one that makes you feel like a polar bear in slow motion?  We know it all too well during these festive months.  Instead of turning the entire season into a sleepy, sugared slumber, here are some tips I've learned to push through those ham hangovers and hot toddy haze.

1. Get over it.

You know what makes a headache worse? Thinking about it.  Put your britches on and get your little sugarplum in gear.  We all experience this food induced fuzziness- man-up and realize how gosh darn lucky you are to power through it.  Ya done?

2. H2-hOhoho.

That diet coke with crushed ice is quite possibly the best tasting beverage following a night of vino and midnight nachos but it’s not going to quench that thirst or de-puff those cheeks (north and south).  Grab the water the second your little chimichanga wakes up and don’t stop.

3. Move that nutcracker.

One of the hardest things to do when you’re feeling full is to well, get up.  Slap on the sneaks, get the Pandora playlist going, and just MOVE.  It doesn’t have to be an Olympic lift, a 5k PR, or even longer than 20 minutes.  Just get your body back in the rhythm of doing something more than lying horizontally.

4. Eat.

Huh? But I just did.  A lot.  And for a while. 

I have found it hugely beneficial to start with a very clean, healthy meal the morning after festive indulgence.  Remind your palate that there’s more to life than pie crust and beer (right?)  Don’t starve it and don’t continue to stuff it.  Find that eating equilibrium once again.

5. Early to Bed, Early to Rise…makes a woman healthy, wealthy, and forget about pies.

Sleep is the best makeup known to mankind.  Forget Covergirl or Neutrogena, good ol’ REM is where it’s at.  Hit the hay early and wake up rested.  Your skin, stomach, and head will thank you.

So...that’s what I've seen work in my experiences with merriment. 

There is no time like the holidays for food, fun, and indulgence.  But before you feel like a stale piece of fruitcake, take the steps to maintain the bodily balance you deserve.  There’s already one guy rockin’ a belly like a bowl full of jelly, no need for two;)

Bikinis and Belly Laughs- A Look Into the Life of One of the World's Best Frolickers

Kristy Leconte.  

This girl makes me smile. As we interviewed each other, I happily and eagerly realized that this lady is right up my alley- passionate, dedicated, friendly, ambitious, and adds a :) at least once per email.

Kristy is an IFPA Pro Bikini Athlete. For those who don't know, the IFPA is a Professional Division in Natural Bodybuilding- after earning her placement at the Yorton Cup (think World Cup or Stanley Cup with more muscle and less pale skin) she can now confidently say she is one of the top 5 Bikini Athletes in the world. Holy macaroni.

But wait, there's more.  A whole lot more.

She is a coach, a trainer, a motivator, a wife, an inspiration, and one hell of a hardworking woman.  Need proof? Be sure to check out her website/blog at kristyleconte.com for a glimpse at what this superwoman does.  I got the chance to speak with her and hear a little bit more about what it's like to walk in the heels (and sneakers!) of this brunette bombshell.

*CC: I feel like you must wake up at 3am to accomplish all you seem to do!  Walk us through a day in the life of Kristy!

KL: Ha that’s about right.  I have always been a person that packs as much, if not too much, into the day.   A normal day goes like so:

3:00am alarm and kisses from my boxer, Bevo, gets me up.

3:30am I am running out the door stuffing meal one in my face as I balance my lunch bag, gym bag, and purse in hand.  (hot mess)

4:00am- 6:00am Workout and shower

6:30am- 12:30pm Clients

12:30pm -4:30 pm I work the desk at the gym and answer email from clients.

4:30pm -7:00pm clients

7:30pm- Home to spend time with Bevo or the Husband

9 pm to 9:30- Bed time! 10:30 is a late night for me.

*CC: I feel far more stress/pressure now before a show than in my first year of competing as a newbie- can you relate to this at all?

KL: Yes! My first prep I didn’t have a coach and I didn’t know anyone else that was doing or prepping for a show.  I had no expectations of where I should be each week and I had nothing  to compare it to.  My second show I prepped in the summer! I thought it would be a piece of cake… I could just BBQ everything and have tons of veggies.  I was wrong! I forgot about the ice cream and the social events where you just want to have a glass of wine.  

THEN I won my IFPA Pro card…  I felt like I had to be better so the pressure was on.  I had all these stage pictures of myself that I had to be better than.  It was a good stress but a stress none the less. The one positive thing about the pressure is you learn a lot about yourself.  There were moments I would be fighting back tears because I was at my limit, but a few minutes later I would do a little self talk/ check in and they I would feel great and think WOW my booty or abs are looking AMAZING.

There are also times where my inner critic starts telling me If I don’t do well I will let my clients and sponsors down.  (No I don’t worry about my family and friends because they have loved me through worst things) :) But I put the pressure on myself because I think of myself as a leader/ role model to my clients.   I want to show them that hard work really does pay off.  Then I’m reminded that my clients don’t care if I win or place dead last.  They are proud of me for just doing this sport. So then I relax a little and look at my abs again! Ha

*CC: What does your husband do for a living? Does he share any of your health/fitness passions?  How does he feel about you competing?

KL: My husbands works in a shipping warehouse.  He is one of the best athletes I have ever known.  I actually look up to him a lot,  (and it’s not just because he’s a foot taller than me).  He still plays Flag football on weekends and can walk into the gym after not working out for months and  squat over 500lbs.

As for how he feels about me competing, he's happy with whatever makes me happy.  I don’t push my eating habits on him.  If he wants pizza he can get pizza.  He also understands If I don’t eat in time I get a cranky. He does enjoying teasing me about staying up pass 9pm. (He’s a night owl).

*CC: I’ve been asked by many people, “are the other girls nice at the shows?” What have you experienced and how would you answer that?

KL: Unfortunately, there are always one or two ladies that have a sucky outlook on life.  Ha… Just like every area of life, there will always be those people that are insecure with who they are and they let one thing define them.  If the show doesn’t go their way they cut down everyone else to make themselves feel better.  

But not everyone is like that.  Not even those people are ALWAYS like that.  I’ve learned that once you know a person's WHY it’s easier to understand where they are coming from.  It doesn’t mean they are right… but as Taylor Swift say… “Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake it off” 

There are some people there that are truly amazing.  I have met great people by doing shows. These people, like yourself, have helped me learn something about myself and grow as a person. :) It’s really how you chose to handle the negative….

*CC: What is your favorite non-physical characteristic about yourself?

KL: My laugh… When I’m taken by surprise by a joke or something it's really big!

*CC: What is one non-physical characteristic about yourself you wish you could change?

KL: My anxiety/ need to be in control.  This has been something I have been working on for about 7 years really.  I used to be on medication for anxiety and depression.  About 5 years ago I stop taking them and started doing a lot of self- growth things.  (If you see my blog/ facebook I’m kinda a hippy about these topics).  I listen to podcast, read, and write to help me understand why I’m feeling the need to be in control and why I have anxiety.  Also, on my day off one of my favorite things is to let my husband be in control of the day. :) ha I know it seems little but we just get in the car and go without a plan… it’s very peaceful.

*CC: What’s next for you? What are your 1, 5, and 10 year goals?

KL: 1 year- Buy a house. Build my blog and business more.

5 year- Have at least 1 rugrat to chase around.

10 year- To have a network of business women to work with, teach and learn from,  and help make each others goals come true.

*CC: And now, rapid fire fun, just pick one!

Chocolate or vanilla protein powder? 

Chocolate

In the theater- Romcom or Thriller? 

Romcom- the laugh thing! :)

Ice cream or nachos? 

nachos

Squat or lunge? 

Squats

M&Ms or Sour Patch Kids? 

Peanut M&M… sooooo good

Treadmill or track? 

Treadmill

Spandex shorts or capris? 

Capris

Red or White wine? 

RED!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pandora or ipod? 

Fitness Radio, it’s an app without commercials and great mixes

Back or shoulder workout? 

Shoulders

Heels or flip flops?  

Both! :)

Mexican or Italian?  

Mexican

Underamour or Nike?  

Nike

Positively Passionate- finding the thing that makes you ding

"HA HA!!!"

"WOOO WEEEEEE!"

"BABE, BABE LOOK AT THIS, SERIOUSLY LOOK."

I turn my attention to my fiance and move my eyes to the TV.
Ah yes, I admire the athleticism that took.  My hips don't twist that way and my arms certainly couldn't extend that far, well done.

"Oh wow neat."

"Neat? THAT WAS INCREDIBLE."

Passion.

I find the most interesting, thought-provoking, conversation sparking, intriguing people are those with a passion.  Bugs, birds, beer, butter, hey whatever gets your juices flowin'.

I have had numerous conversations with people who have stumbled into this funny thing called fitness and realized heck, it's pretty cool.  They start going to weekly spin classes, begin following hashtag fitfam, and may invest in some tupperware.  They like how they feel and may want to start talking about it...maybe, they say in hushed voices, they'd "even want to compete someday."

But maybe their mom makes meatloaf every Sunday and their dad keeps filling their wine glass.  And they don't want to tell them they haven't fit into those jeans in 10 years so they take the wine and eat a plate of meat and talk about their job.
And maybe their coworkers have a cookie swap and instead of daring a new protein brownie recipe and impending staredowns, they pickup Betty Crocker and put down growing confidence.

It's a pretty interesting phenomenon but I have found many people uncertain about exploring a potential passion in fitness.  It's almost as if fitness enthusiasts are in two camps- those who love to talk about it and those who wish they could.

Colleague at happy hour- "You HAVE to go to the gym???"
Hydrated brain: (no but it makes me feel really lovely and boosts my self esteem- you should try it, maybe we can blend shakes together after!)
"No, I mean, I guess not."

Why not you?
If you like something and it makes you a better person, and you want to share your happiness, WHY NOT?
People get to be passionate about copper, cows, crystal, and cream (?)...why can't you get pumped about making oatmeal and recognizing a deltoid curve?

I understand why and I've been there myself- it's a change in identity.  It wasn't an observable piece of you before and it may take a hot second for others to jump on board.

Do it.  Passion is rare.  Finding the thing that puts a little fire in your soul and pep in your step doesn't happen everyday.
Does sharing a photo of you smashing a squat and feeling oxygen and LIFE burn in your lungs give you a smile and a piece of excitement.  Share it.
Does packing food and putting it in the office fridge next to cold cuts and cake make you feel strong and secure?  Pack it.

Point is, life is short and the things that put a little OOMPH in our hearts are rare.
If it's protein cookies, the thrill of potentially competing, feeling firm in a sweater, or anything else in the realm of fitness or health, rock it.
How seldom everyday life give us something to get fired up about, something that awakens us.

We witness passions everyday.  In paintings, on menus, in songs, and in the final 5 seconds of Patriot games...

Send it, share it, lift it, bake it, enjoy it, squat it, pin it, filter it, run it, ENJOY it.

That girl that's passionate about fitness, healthy living, and inspiring others?
Why not you?

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.

Prep and Peak Week- Life's Version

As I turned the key one more time and prayed to the Jetta gods for some kind of automotive miracle, my dog licked my arm and barked.  It sputtered for 10 seconds before dying and I looked over at Jax with dismay.

I had sweat trickling down my boobs, a bag of dog treats tucked under my arm, and a water bottle on the dashboard.  I had frizzy hair tied up in a bird's nest, a wedgie from the old underwear I had quickly slipped on, and a speck of ketchup on the side of my mouth.  I also had with me, a mental list of the 114 things I had to do today that all, of course, required a working automobile.

Jax panted and I realized I was not the only one with sweat down my boobs. I opened the windows, letting the 90 degree heat pour in and looked her in the eye.  
Do we cry...should we laugh...well, we should most definitely text the boyfriend that was 2 hours away at a Bachelor party.  He couldn't do anything for us at the moment but we did want to make sure he knew we were suffering. 

As we unfolded our bodies from the disgruntled array of metal, I glanced down the street and saw simmering heat on the pavement.  I knew back inside the house was cool but the pup had been promised the dog park and I was going to give her...something.  Dropping the treats, water bottle, and purse in the backyard we started running.  Wedgie ensued, hair flopped down, and my shorts (thinking they were going to the dog park) quickly crept up past my belly button.  Jax had her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, her leg tangled around the leash, and a smear of spit across her nose.

We were a vision.

We trotted, and I thought. What do I do now.  I had the whole day planned- with my competition next weekend, I knew I needed to get stuff done before the crazy week began.  There's a whole lotta shite a girl needs to do to look "naturally" beautiful on show day (see above, i.e. bird's nest hair) and I was planning on doing it all today.  

I was going to wear out Jaxster at the dog park, drop her off at the house, and go get a trial run of my show makeup.  Next was a trip to the salon where eyebrows were going to be waxed then nails glammed up.  Then off to the gym for a HIIT sesh in the air conditioning.  Later, I would stop for some fresh vegetables and prepare salads for the week.  Then, probably, a trip to the pond for another walk around with the pup.

A car honked its horn and interrupted my thoughts.  I realized, in an instant, literally zero of the activities above were happening today.  

As we walked and thought and panted, I realized this was perfect.

I had planned all week for a ferocious weekend of productivity- I had made the appropriate calls and arranged the perfect schedule.  I had done everything I could and yet, life had other plans.

It was perfect, I concluded, as Jax picked up a questionable rubber item off the sidewalk, because this may happen next weekend too.

"Prep", or the amount of time before a show that a competitor uses to get ready, is exactly what it states- it prepares you for competition day.  It's a plan, it's a schedule, it's a strategy.  Days are detailed, meals are precise, and workouts are particular.  You are planning, during this time, to have the best possible show day.

But sometimes, as I swatted a fly against my arm, the best doesn't quite happen.  Sometimes you can plan perfectly and the imperfect happens.  Sometimes old cars die and sometimes eyebrows are not waxed.  Sometimes, shows do not go to plan.  Even after preparation, funky things can happen.

Jax and I got home and into the cool air.  
Later, we played tug of war, I emailed my grandma, I Instagrammed up some meals, I went for a run.  I watched some tv, I layed on a yoga mat, I lit candles and enjoyed the sound of rain.  I did laundry and drank tea and looked at old pictures.

I did all things I wasn't planning on doing today and none of the things I was.  
It was a wonderful day.

I've been planning for over 3 months to have a sublime show day.  I have stuck to a schedule and maintained a strategy to have a perfect day.  
But, I could break my arm on Wednesday.  I could have an allergic reaction and look like a cream puff.  I could break my bikini bottoms 2 minutes before getting on stage.  I could forget my lip gloss.  I could get a call from a family member desperately needing to talk and miss the show altogether.  I could break a heel and land on my tanned arse.

Despite everything I've done to prepare, these things could happen.  Because life, interestingly enough, doesn't plan around us.  It doesn't avoid a Jetta breaking down or dodge a clear heel snapping off.  What we do have control over, in this entertaining game called Life, is our reaction to it.

As I reflect on this interesting day, I am thankful. Because despite a lot going wrong, the day was very right.  It was filled with relaxation and smiles and peace.  And it was exactly what I needed before next weekend.
I know that whether a bikini bottom breaks or my bum looks like a marshmallow, it will be okay.  Plans can be broken but something greater can result.

Today, thank you Life, you've prepped me for some more of you.

My Life, My Passion- Take 2

I read an article this morning that was a little sad and even a little comical.  It was written almost 2 years ago, entitled, "My Life, My Passion" and was written by a young lady named Courtney Cronin.

Hey that's me!

The article, written a month after I completed my last show of my long competition season, seems foreign to me now.  The words I expressed were true, were sincere, and the emotions quite accurate.  And now, seem like a different person wrote them.  The blog post from November 2012 was, I recall, a bit difficult for me to write.  As I normally enjoy writing about peanut butter, puppies, and protein powder, this post was exposing and open; I wrote of my past experiences with food apprehension and uncertainties with body image, eating, and self-worth.  I explained in 2012 how grateful I was to have the sport of bodybuilding, that my goals to succeed in the sport were far greater than my insecurities.  I wrote that the destructive thoughts and actions towards my body were not worth the potential success I could have in the sport.

From the post, I quote, "I want SO badly to be a successful bikini competitor and fitness model that I can't do those harmful things."

Two years ago this silly, little hobby was my life.  It was my passion and my focus.  To give some insight, I was living with my mom, working as a waitress a few nights a week, and making half-hearted attempts at finding a career.  I would spend my days in the weight room, on the step mill, making fun fitness food, and Instagramming.  I was in a long distance relationship with my current boyfriend, but at the time thought our similarities and love for each other was because of our shared fitness lifestyle.

I was happy and incredibly, incredibly, naive.

In the last two years I've done a couple things, here are a few, in semi-chronological order:

-I got a job as an Executive Assistant in the Boston area.
-Said professional job ended up being the most extreme learning experience of my life and I was handed responsibilities and expectations of an experienced professional.
-I lived by myself in a small, 2 room studio in a run down neighborhood with very questionable neighbors.
-I worked 70 hours a week for a period of time that felt like years.
-I moved in with my boyfriend.
-I was promoted to a managerial role.
-I began experiencing severe back pain and all over body discomfort and wasn't able to lift weights or happily swing my legs out of bed for 6 months.
-I couldn't run 10 ft. without extreme pain.
-I learned I had early onset arthritis and the importance of pain management.
-I started respecting my body for being the vessel that enabled me to go to the grocery store, mail a letter, type an email, and walk down the street.
-I left my job and attained one in a completely different field.
-I was promoted at this job after a couple months and became the Corporate Recruiter for a respectable Technology firm.
-My boyfriend and I moved again.
-We got a puppy.
-I achieved my first commission.
-My boyfriend and I started looking at homes to buy and planning our future.
-I was happy and not so naive.

None of the things mentioned above have anything to do with competing, fitness, or modeling.  They have to do with life.  Real life.  Real struggle and real success.  During the last two years, health and wellness have still absolutely been part of my life.  Just viewed with a very different perspective.

I started prepping for some fall shows about a month ago and remember I am about 5 quick times a day when I eat and once when I workout.  The rest of the day is filled with life.  With work, with ambition, with tasks, and with love.  My mentality towards this sport could not be more different than 2 years ago.  I want to do well, of course, I'm a competitive person.  But I've realized there is so much more to my life than this silly, little hobby.  That I am much more than this hobby.

Here's a new quote, "I want SO badly to be a successful, respectable, loving person that I can't do those harmful things to myself because I am so much more."

I look forward to the upcoming season, it's fun!  I love having a goal and getting ready for some exciting, tan, bikini-filled days.
However, my focus, my goals, and my passion are far from strutting on that stage.  They are everyday. They are hard work, they are tasks, they are bonuses, they are hugs, they are laughter, they are life.

I've achieved more in the last two years than I ever could onstage and while frolicking onstage is fun, frolicking in life is now My Life, My Passion.