It’s been a busy last week to say the least. I had to work all weekend, off Monday, and then back to work Tuesday. Exhausting to say the least, but I crammed all those work days together so I’d be off the rest of the week to prep and hang with my mom and visiting friend pre-show. Everyone keeps asking if I feel ready… and to that, I say I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I must admit I did something stupid, something that really shook my confidence… I Instagram stalked some of the other bikini competitors and about lost my nerve. These girls look GOOD, like rock-solid good. They were giving props to their trainers, and nutrition plans, and posing coaches, and workshops, just hashtags galore. Meanwhile I’m here at home looking in the mirror saying to myself, “You’re good enough, you’re buff enough, and doggone it people will like you.” In all seriousness though, I’ve got to just be proud of my own accomplishments and own methods and goals I’ve reached and stop comparing myself to any other competitor. Could I do better? Could I have lost more fat and gained more muscle? Sure, but this is what I’m workin’ with and it’s just about show time and I intend to fake it till I make it.
Planning for the show day sans trainer or coach has been stressful because I don’t really know what to expect backstage and hate the idea of being unprepared. I plan on doing my own hair and make up early Saturday morning then heading to the venue where I anticipate a whole lot of waiting around in a tiny bikini and ridiculous costume jewelry. The schedule looks like there are a ton of other divisions before bikini ever gets on stage and while I feel like I don’t need to be there all that time waiting, it would be horrible if I actually missed my time because I wasn’t where I was supposed to be- which evidently happens every show to some poor sap. So, I’ll make sure to have my iPhone charger and some headphones with me so I can binge out on non-kid appropriate podcasts that I love like My Favorite Murder, Mortified, and The Accused. Vivi is getting old enough that the potential risk for her to repeat bad language is very high. Just the other day my husband said he yelled at some idiot college kid in a parking lot and from the backseat he hears her tiny voice yell, “You fucking prick!” He then had to explain 9000 times that while it’s ok for daddy to say that, Vivi should never say that, and that really it’s not even very nice for dad to say but you see honey that kid pulled out right in front of daddy and cut me off and he didn’t even notice because he’s a college kid who thinks he’s hot shit and is trying to impress the skank in his front seat and I was young once and thought I was hot shit, but trust me, you’re not and you don’t know it all and… oops, now she probably knows a few more choice words. To be honest I’m totally shocked this is the first time she’s sworn because I don’t know if you’ve been reading my blog or not, but the F word is definitely a friend of mine. I can’t help it, it’s like an adjective for me.
So the next time I write I’ll be fat and happy relaxing with a cheeseburger in one hand and a glass of chilled wine or cold beer or maybe even both in the other. I’m a nurse and a mom, I can carry a lot of shit, trust me. Wish me luck and pray I don’t trip, or lose my top, or any other worst case scenarios I haven’t already played out in my head 460 times.