Now What??

So I've spent the past 6 months eating clean, imbibing water by the gallons, working out hours almost every day, even going under the knife to make some much-needed upgrades to my hardware-- all to meet my goal of competing in a bodybuilding competition.

me at my worst, 2001, 155 lbs

me after 3 babies, 2006, 126 lbs

And like that, they're over. Done. Finito. Months of sacrifice. Two competitions. No trophies. But my best body ever, and no one can take that satisfaction away from me. Except for myself, of course. So what now? How do I not sabotage my efforts and revert to my body of yesteryear?

Do I need the constant impending threat of standing on a stage and being judged to maintain this body? Do I want to compete again in the near future?

me yesterday, 118 lbs

my best side!

If I had to answer that question after the NPC competition, I would have said, "Hells no." That experience was demoralizing, intimidating, with very few bright spots. But yesterday at the NGA show, I actually had FUN. How to account for the different experience?

First, I had my first competition under my belt. I had the nerves out; I knew what to expect; I had been through "dress rehearsal." Second, it was a smaller show. Rather than 20 girls in my category, there were 9. Initially, there had been only 4, and then 2 weeks prior, 5 more registered. Which is too bad. I may have actually placed with only 4 in the category (NGA places top 3). Third, as my trainer rightly informed me, NGA attracts a different crowd. NGA is all-natural, and for some reason, this meant more down-to-earth, less cut-throat competitors. Or maybe everyone seemed friendlier because all us girls were crowded into one tiny dressing room with one toilet sans stall. Yes, an open toilet. Never have I chatted with a complete stranger, who stood buck naked being rubbed down in tanning juice by another girl, while I peed, delicately wiping as to not smudge my self-tanner all over my thighs. Talk about immediate BFFs.

I actually shared my Bikini Bite with #1 (my nickname for the girl who not only won overall at NPC the week prior, but is also the reigning champ of NGA Pro Bikini-- thought there was a rule about not competing in a comp you've already won, but guess not-- and she won again at NGA last night.) #1 wasn't the warmest, friendliest girl, though she was nice enough as I engaged in conversation with her from the coziness of the communal pot (yes, we all know I have to pee quite often).  Not sure if she's "just shy", overly focused, or just plain above the rest of us. The girl's body is utter perfection. She doesn't even smile on stage; she doesn't have to. She just swaggers, catlike, eyes demurely half-closed as if she's gracing the crowd and the judges with her presence. I watched the head judge, a female, virutally swoon over #1, just like she had the week before at NPC. #1's husband also competes & competed last night-- it's disgusting what a gorgeous couple they are. #1 pretended to be nervous, more in an effort to fit in with the other girls than actual lack of confidence. Of course, when you're always #1, I guess there's actually something to be lost.

me & my bikini BFFs

The other girls in my category this week were awesome-- friendly, open, funny. Oddly enough, a couple others had also been at NPC the week before and had never said one word to me. I guess the NPC atmosphere is just so tense it changes people. This weekend, we were all new girls. I was instant friends with a couple girls who hadn't been at NPC-- they were vulnerable, cute, and cracked jokes with me the entire time backstage. We sprayed one another in glitter and PAM (I opted for Muscle Juice instead), pep-talked one another, and shared delightful conversations about all the food we planned to eat right after. It was so great to be surrounded by people who got it-- got what it was like to train, to diet, to stand on stage completely vulnerable and hope you didn't land on your arse while pivoting for a rear shot. Despite what "civilians" might assume, these girls were bright, funny, and talented. Many of us are moms. One was a pilot, one a cosmetologist, and of course myself a published fitness writer. Another competitor in the figure category and mixed pairs (she actually did a routine with her bodybuilder husband that was quite amazing!), is a school teacher, her husband a school supervisor. I don't know how they find the time to train-- maybe they bench press their students!

Yesterday, I knew I didn't place again, even as I stood in the line-up (though I must say, there were complete strangers in the audience aka not blood-related who shouted out my number-- I actually stood out to people!), but I did what I set out to do . . . have fun. I took what I learned from my first comp, namely more bling, bigger hair, darker tan, more confidence, and got it did. Shout-out to my baby sis Jody who made my hair look fabulous :)

me & Trainer Jill

And I did what I didn't set out to do . . . decide that this wouldn't be the end of my competition career. Dunt, dunt, dun . . . (Thanks, Jill, for getting me on this path, and for the beautiful flowers last night!)

Not sure if I'll be ready for spring shows, since I just registered for the Ogden Marathon in May, and I don't think I can combine marathon training and bodybuilding training simultaneously. But maybe next fall I can aim for figure. Because as I looked around backstage, I noticed that I was actually more cut than half the figure competitors, and probably too cut for bikini. Not sure how I'll lean out even more, but Trainer Jill thinks if I could get from point a to point b, it's not much farther to get from point b to point c. I think it may require some more nip-tuck, though, because there's nothing I can do about the loose baby skin hanging around my hard-earned abs. This is a big aspiration, because if you think Bikini has a lot of competition, you haven't seen Figure. Figure was divided into short, medium, and tall, and each still had 8-12 girls! Talk about slim odds.

But like I've learned, it's not about the trophy. Though I am tempted to go buy myself one, because, damn, it would look great on my mantle and I deserve it! If anything, I can always just enter the women's bodybuilding category, because no one ever enters that one, I'd get to do a fun routine to music, I wouldn't have to wear those blasted 4-inch heels, & I'd pretty much be guaranteed a trophy! Now there's a plan . . .

So back to the blog title: now what?? First, Vegas Ragnar! Yikes. I have not been training & realized I get to run the most mileage (21 miles as opposed to 12-16) & the longest, steepest incline! Then a brief mild respite before hitting the marathon training.

Life is just too short to sit still . . .

This Is It!

Yes, aptly named blog post, for this may well be my final show ever! The jury is still out about whether I'd ever want to do this again. It's so much hard work and sacrifice. And most people think you're crazy or conceited. And then you actually get on stage, and bam, it's over. And no trophy. Have you ever had that nightmare where you're totally naked in front of a crowd? That's what it feels like, standing in that tight pose on the stage, lip twitching as you struggle to maintain a smile. So when people ask me if I had fun, I'm not sure "fun" is the word I'd use . . .

But today I'm determined. To have fun. So when people ask, I can say, "Why, yes. Yes, it was FUN!" Even when I walk away with no trophy. At least this time, I've got the nerves out. I know what to expect & what the judges might like. My suit is blingier, my hair will be bigger, my tan darker, my poses more confident.

Pep talk over. Better start getting ready! Wish me luck, dear readers . . .

The Day After . . .

(Sorry, video footage from Ry's iphone, not the greatest!)

Ah, slept in till 8 am. Woke up with sore abs, calves, & back-- just from pose-holding! Enjoyed my regular healthy breakfast, plus some yummy treats left on my doorstep by a supportive friend-- hey, they were made with cereal (and chocolate & marshmallows & butter), so they count as breakfast food, right? Plus, I'm still licking my wounds from the night show.

Here's how the night show went: it started out well. I felt great. Relaxed. My tan looked better, my shine looked shinier, my suit blingier. My strut and poses were more confident. Too bad the judging had been done in the morning, because I felt like a whole new girl in the evening. I knew 100% I didn't place in the large category, but I held on to an inkling of hope in my small category. There were 7 of us, and 5 got a trophy. Odds were not too shabby, & I thought I might just slip in at 5th. We were all lined up backstage, awaiting to strut out one more time, have  our bios read, receive our individual applause. Then the dude backstage would tell us which 5 to go out on stage again, and those 5 had placed.

"Numbers 1-5, 1-5, line up." I was #7. I thought he had to be confused. Surely the winners didn't perfectly match up with the first 5 girls. I must confess, I was NOT the picture of calmness and gracious losing. I wrapped my arm around #6. "Guess we're the losers." She smiled, "That's okay. It was fun!" She seemed so cheerful, so prepared for this outcome. It reminded me of the end of every Survivor episode when the voted out contestant gets to say a few words. As viewers, we always admire the ones who take it in stride, reflect on what they learned, cheer their tribe on. We roll our eyes at the ones who begin a diatribe sketched with choice swear words, in shock that they got voted off and angry at the world. I realized that I was the latter survivor! I went through the whole gammut of emotions, all 7 stages of grief.

First, shock & denial, hence my admonishing the backstage dude to double-check his list. How could this be? I had sacrificed millions of calories and fat grams for months! I had worked out 2-3 hours every day, 6 days a week for months! I had imbibed enough water to hydrate an African village for a month! Surely, this big dude with the goatee had read wrong. He gave me a look that said, sorry, sucker.

Second, pain & guilt. Pain, yes. Pain from those damn 4 inch heels that were too wide so my poor feet had to grip to stay inside with every step. Guilt for making my family live with my sugar-free, high maintenance diet for the past few months, for what? For watching me fail miserably on stage?

Third, anger. I could hardly stand there watching my newfound bikini friends win their awards. I stomped my 4-inch heels straight back to the dressing room, threw on my over-clothes, tossed those damned shoes into my gym bag, and stormed out into the hall, texting the hubby that I was ready to go. In an awkward attempt to cover up my tirade, I threw a few half-hearted "good luck"s to the figure competitors hanging around, having their suits glued to their bums. I went into the auditorium just to watch Trainer Jill do her bodybuilding routine. Of course she rocked it, and lucky for her, she was guaranteed 1st place.

Fourth, depression & loneliness. Yep. It's pretty lonely to be 1 of the only 2 who lost. It was utterly depressing to realize that I hadn't done enough or been enough. True sadness. I walked out into the hallway into my hubby's arms. His hug felt good, even if it didn't take away the sadness.

Fifth, the upward turn. The hubby told me he saw a friend from work there, who just liked to watch bodybuilding shows. His friend said I should've placed. My kids told me I should've placed. My hubby told me he was proud of me. This was the start of the upward turn, realizing that most mommies would never even try something like this. Realizing that I did accomplish something, and I had MY best body to prove it. And knowing that I got to go out to eat . . . that was indeed an integral part of the upward turn. It was already 7:30, late for our family, so we headed to the nearby Pei Wei. Partaking of edamame, lettuce wraps, egg rolls, and fortune cookies-- upward turn indeedy!

Sixth, working through. This came about through analyzing it with the hubby during dinner. "Was I really the worst one up there? Why did I lose? What could I have done better?" We realized that of the 7, #6 and myself were the only newbies. We'd never done this before, and our greenness must've been apparent. It wasn't about body fat percentage, because a few of the girls who won were much softer than I was. They were just studs at posing-- it's like they thought they were even hotter than they actually were, but it worked for them! Delusions of grandeur can pay off. And let's be honest. I was the only one up there with a stretch marked abdomen. No matter how I tried to hide it, they were there. And taut abdominal skin is integral to winning in the bikini category. Bodybuilders and figure can get away with a bit, because it's all about muscle. But not so in bikini. But the hubby assured me, I did look like I "belonged" up there.

And finally, acceptance and hope. I accepted that I lost. I accepted that the other girls had obviously met the judges approval better than I had. And I began to hope that I could do better with my next one, the NGA in Ogden this upcoming Saturday. My last chance. I'm hoping for less competition, since this one is not a national qualifier. And I know I'll be calmer and more confident, knowing what to expect. And I know how it feels to come in last, so it can't get worse-- only the same or better. And on the bright side, I'm sure I would've won Miss Congeniality if there was one offered-- I had all the girls backstage cracking up with my uncanny ability to keep it real :)

So now that I've gone through all the stages of grief, I'd like to apologize to sweet #6, who only saw my shock & anger. I know it wasn't pretty, but is it really admirable to be a good loser?

The greatest outcome from this endeavor has been the love & support of so many friends! I'm sure a lot of people just don't get it-- the bodybuilding competition scene, the traipsing on stage in a barely-there bikini, the clean eating & constant exercise-- and I know a lot of people are probably even offended by it. But I have been surprised and overwhelmed with the many people who HAVE been supportive, cheering me on, sending me kind messages of encouragement, and keeping me going! I had two friends who drove all the way to Salt Lake on their Saturday morning to watch me compete (thanks Emily B. & Nikki A.). I received many emails, texts, & calls of well wishes all weekend. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being such amazing friends and just purely good-hearted people-- you are rare & beautiful :)

Morning Show Survived!

So I'm blogging right away this time. First, because I have time to kill while I let coat #3 of Jan Tana dry. Second, because I don't want to forget the little details. Considering that I was one of the oldest ladies on the stage, my memory may be the foggiest!

Okay. So I got there right on time. Found a seat in the auditorium and waited and waited for the meeting to start. Got to scope out the competition. Immediately, I felt out of place. What I saw were girls in their twenties, who appeared adept and comfortable with the application of hair extensions, false eyelashes, and stage make-up. Gulp. I also saw, of course, extremely buff guys, who were, for the most part, inept at applying self-tanners. But that only reinforces their manliness, right?

I felt better when Trainer Jill arrived, who luckily is NOT my competition. She's in the lightweight bodybuilder category. From the posted list, she alone ruled her category. Nice. I wish my only competition was with myself. But no. I scanned the list and counted Bikini Short. There were about 20. And when I saw them backstage, I saw that none of them had nasty-loose-mommy skin around their taut tummies. I became so self-conscious that I nixed any front poses that required me to take my hands away from my pull-the-skin-taut-to the-hips. These girls were also quite comfortable with their bodies, proceeding to immediately strip to the buff in front of complete strangers. Why should they care? They were, like a hot, young Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way. Apparently, they also never grew pubic hair. (Okay, okay-- in truth they were pretty tough chicas, because I can only imagine the pain of waxing or lasering 100% of the nether regions.) Looking around, I decided for the one millionth time that my boobs were the best purchase I ever made-- it was one less thing to be self-conscious or embarrassed about.

Once in line for my turn, I overheard a coach pep-talking her clients. She was explaing the walk, and since the pre-meeting did not explain anything about where or how we were to walk on stage, I innocently inquired to this woman about that protocol. Her look let me know I needed to pay her to receive an answer, but she gave me a brash, "Do whatever you've practiced," before returning to her golden children. Two other girls in the line complimented each other and relished in their reunion. At the last show they had been in together, the one had placed 1st, the other 2nd. They were now officially Bikini BFFs. I wondered how sincere any competition friendship can be when, let's face it, every girl is your competition. I scanned the line for someone who looked as nervous as I felt. Found that girl and traded small talk about this being our first competition. Still, I felt like a fish out of water. I wondered briefly, "Is it too late to turn and run?" These girls, it seemed like pageantry was in their blood. They were so excited; they were so confident. They gave each other little pep talks, "You are the hottest! Look at those judges in the eye-- they think you're the best!" The other girl would nod, take a deep breath, then sweep onto the stage with a hip-popping strut. I tried to dig deep into my theatre arts background. "Pretend, Christy. Pretend you ARE one of these girls. Pretend you are confident. Pretend you are comfortable up here. Pretend that you love this; that this is the most fun you've ever had in your life."

And then it was my turn. All I remember is wishing my hands weren't so oily from the body glaze so that it was easier to pull my tummy taut. I remember wondering why the hell my lip was twitching while I was smiling. I remember arching my back so much on those back poses that I thought I might spasm and have to be carried off the stage in a stretcher. I remember a couple shout-outs, "Go, Christy!" One was my trainer's husband in the front row. I saw my good friend Emily & felt so grateful for her support. I saw my kids climbing the wall in the back of the auditorium, which meant my hubby was somewhere out there, even if I couldn't see him. I remember the two female judges, because they were the only ones who smiled at me and made me feel at ease. One was obviously a bodybuilder, but she seemed to have a heart of soft stuff, because her smile was motherly and encouraging. I wondered what exactly they were analyzing when they studied my body up and down. What were they jotting down with their #2 pencils?

First, I went on for Bikini Open, then Bikini Natural. In Bikin Open, I was one of 7. Decent odds, but I'm still not banking on placing. In Bikini Natural, I was one of 20. Terrible odds. And I KNOW I didn't place. I could tell when they asked 5 of us to go the side of the stage that I was in the bottom 5. I whispered to the girl next to me, "Well, that was fun." It was torture to stand there while they tried to determine placings for the other 15 girls. One girl said, "That's not what that means. They'll bring us back on; there's just too many of us." I'm thinkin', "Hello-- then they'd split us into two groups of 10, not one group of 15 and one of 5." But they did bring us back on, probably to get a final ranking on the losers.

Well, it's time for me to get ready for the evening show. As soon as I left the morning show, I drove to Robert's crafts and bought a blinger thinger. Got home, ate my salad, then stripped off my bikini and got to work bedazzling. I hated that I had been the plainest girl on stage. I also applied another coat of tanner, because even though I am the darkest girl naturally, I was way lighter than everyone else. Not gonna worry about the hair this time, but next week, I'm hoping my adorable little sis (who has done a pageant) can put her extensions in my hair and make it nice and fluffy for me.

Night show, here I come. Even though they say, "Everyone's a winner," it's hard to believe it when you don't go home with a trophy. But at least I've had this experience, the support of the most amazing people in my life, & the best body I've ever had, even if it's not the best body on the stage.

T-24 Hrs!

I must apologize to my dear readers who anticipate blog posts, which may be 1 of you! Having 3 kids in elementary school has not freed up my time as I thought it might. On the contrary! Now my life is full of PTA meetings, classroom volunteering, school chorus, sorting through endless piles of papers aka school work x 3, organizing said papers, which has led me to re-organizing my entire house, which led to some redecorating, which led to shopping that I probably shouldn't be doing, which led to me working harder to pay for said home projects . . . which led to my being AWOL from my blog. I'm guessing if you're female, and a mom, you totally get it. And if you're a man, namely my husband, you're rolling your eyes, sighing, and reprimanding me to just say no and sit on the couch for a minute. Alas, I am who am and it is what it is. I myself would like myself to just sit on the couch, read a book, in my self-cleaning, self-laundering, self-cooking, self-organizing, self-fun-money-earning house. Wouldn't that be dreamy?

But anywho, I'm back with a post. Because tomorrow is the day. The day we've all been waiting for! My first of two bodybuilding competitions in the bikini category (that sounds so much better than "bikini competition"). I've done the diet. I've done the workouts. I've cheated a lot along the way. But the past 2 weeks have been spot on (okay, except for the one piece of yummy sweet bread a kind neighbor anonymously left on our doorstep with the cute little ghost poem. Mind you, they left me a pack of sugar-free gum, which I appreciated and enjoyed. But slicing the bread for my kids was just too much. I ended up sticking the rest in the freezer so that I can enjoy the whole loaf after my competition!) Except for that one little mishap, I've been spot on. Plus, I took all the best of my Jill meal plans, the ones I like the most and which of course leave me the least gassy, and devised my own meal plan, which has made it easier to stick to. Still hard. But doable. Last weigh in, I hit 118.9. That's with boobage, baby! Yahoo! That's the least I've weighed since probably 9th grade. (I was a chubby high schooler).

But it's not just about the number on the scale. I truly feel better than I ever have-- I feel better than I did in high school! I feel amazingly strong, & that's my favorite result. I feel cleaner inside, more flexible, more energetic (maybe too energetic because lately, I've been waking up at 5 am, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. The hubby is a bit annoyed!) I just feel so good. Yes, clean eating is super-hard. But I look around me, at the zombie-moms, the perpetually sick, the grumpy & lethargic, and I know it really is worth it.

So I think I'm ready. I've done the work. This week, I've done the grooming. I'm manicured (already chipped-- who can maintain a manicure longe than 24 hours??), pedicured (already calloused again-- all that Zumba), hair trimmed and deep conditioned (why is it everytime I get a haircut, no matter how expensive, I have to "fix it" when I get home?). I've begun the shaving process (no, I'm not waxing. First, because I've already been lasered where it matters most. Second, because I got waxed. Once. It hurt like hell and didn't look all that great. Third, because somehow, I got the non-genetic gift of fine body hairs, meaning I can shave my legs and they're soft for at least 2-3 days. Even long, they're not stubbly. I can go all winter without shaving and have a nice, soft coat of warmth! ) I shaved my arms yesterday. Yes, my arms. Someone told me the Jan Tana looks smoother if everything is hairless. So I'm carving out some time today for miscellaneous shaving.

Tonight will be Jan Tana time, then again in the morning. This afternoon, I have to drive to good ol' West Valley to weigh-in and check-in. Thank goodness I already have my MAC makeup, because this anxiety gave me a nice zit, which I knew I shouldn't have picked at but I did and now it's 10 times bigger of a blemish than it was in the first place. Jill said the judges are about 3 feet away, so I'm hoping the aforementioned blemish is not too obvious. Tested the 3 feet vantage point on the stretch marks, too, but those can't be undid. A friend suggested PVC pipe glue, so I had the hubby venture into the garage, and lo and behold we had some. But it's blue. And exceedingly vaporous. The hubby told me this stuff melts the plastic so that it welds together, and he does NOT recommend I use it for a homemade tummy tuck! One more whiff, and I agreed. Tonight I may experiment with duct tape. But I'm guessing I'll have to stick with the hands-on-the-hip-fingers-tug trick-- smoothes out that skin in a jiffy. Though when the hands return to my side for my little strut, the judges may be appalled by what they see. I'll have to divert them somehow, urge their eyes elsewhere. Maybe a nip slip? Although that may dock points . . .

The hair. I did have a struggle decided betweening sleek-sexy-straight with bangs or beachy waves/curls no bangs. In the end, I decided the beachy waves would be great if I had a professional hair stylist. But on my own, that hair is iffy at best, and I don't want that extra stress of a possible bad hair day. I had gone to Sally's to purchase hair extensions, but suffered immediate buyer's remorse. $96 to add a little length? Would it even make that much difference? And did I want to take the extra time to figure out how to install those segments of human hair onto my own head? I showed the hubby what I bought, knowing he loves long hair. Even he said return them. So back to the store they went. I'm guessing the hair won't be what loses it for me!