Where does the time go?

Last weekend I was sitting in a tree stand with my bow thinking I should write a blog about this… A couple days later when I looked, it’s been a year since I wrote anything.  A whole year?!?

Where has the time gone?!

Then I started thinking about how the past year of chaos has been spent… Absorbed with good friends, the stress and chaos of loosing the house I was renting and buying a place of my own, moving, work, learning how to be a homeowner and all the oddities that have gone into the first 6 months, the beginning and end of a couple romantic relationships, white tail bow hunting for the first time…. Yea, it’s been a busy 300 and some odd days.

Now I’m sitting at my kitchen table… I have room for a kitchen table!!  With the 4 new to me chairs I just purchased yesterday morning, looking out the slider door over my deck and backyard.  The late October Michigan sky is overcast of blues and grey, we had freezing rain yesterday and a little snow last night -the first of the season.  My heart is so in love with my life.

In late August or maybe early September, not really sure which, hell maybe it was even July…while hosting a bonfire at my house with friends; I decided I was going to host this year’s holiday party with friends.  Wait, whaaatttt…. I’m hosting the holiday party!?!!!  I have not hosted one since 2006, the same year as my divorce.  I’ve gone to a friends house once or twice for Christmas, but in the past 10+ years I have not willingly done much for the holidays.  In fact last year’s plans fell through because my friends’ kids were sick, so instead I barricaded myself in my tiny rental with a rotisserie chicken and pie, then decided to paint my bedroom. The year before I spent Christmas day with my phones (work included) turned off and snowshoeing.

Now this year, I am planning the Yule dinner with friends -yes it is going include a bonfire!  …and I am so excited about all of it.  Yesterday I was in Hobby Lobby and of course the Christmas decorations were 40% off, I bought a new tree topper and some bulbs, a table runner and I was smiling the whole time. Let that sink in, I bought Christmas stuff in October!  Me!!  The one who has been boycotting anything to do with the holidays the past 10 years.  Now mentally I am running over in my head how I want to set the house up, the feeling I want the home to give off with the decorations and oh crap I want to buy this or that… I need this…. I want to replace these for those….

Last year I talked about the emotional healing I felt I had gone through and that I had come to be in a better place.  Clearly what started last year has continued into this year like a snowball rolling down a steep cliff.  Proof of this can be seen in the smile on my face when I fill my house with the loud laughter of my friends.  The calmness in my soul on an overcast Sunday morning as I enjoy my morning coffee curled up in my oversized chair with my two dogs laying on my feet.

I still eat animal crackers with my coffee on a lazy weekend morning, some things will never change.




Why am I still holding on?


Why is sorting through the junk in my house so incredibly difficult.  What in the actual FUCK is still wrong with me?!
Why am I so frustrated trying to do this!!
Why do I have so many stupid cook books?  I hate cooking!

Some times, a lot of times, I have found that if I just start typing…verbal vomit, so to speak, sometimes I have those A-HA moments and realize what is holding me up.  Something just clicks.  So now, I’m trying to figure that out…

Late fall, early winter, I set the goal that I would have more control over this house.  I would do a mass de-cluttering.  Well, it’s April and I still feel closed in… there is too much shit and the further I dig into things, the more crammed into spaces I find things.

Let me back up.  I hate clutter.  I hate a messy house.  So in reality, this house is no where near a episode of hoarders, it just feels that way to me.  I have to much junk, too much junk that is not used.  It needs to go.  So why, when I am looking at a pile of cook books in my kitchen, that I pulled from their hiding spot last Sunday do I get anxious and want to put all of them back into their hiding spot on the rack?!  I hate cooking.  It’s not that I’m bad at it, I just don’t like it.  I managed to put half of the cook books into a box to go to Goodwill.  This morning, it dawned on me.  Pinterest.  I have Pinterest, if I need to find a recipe, I can just surf Pinterest and ditch 95% of these cook books.  Hell, one had so much dust on the top of it, that I’m sure I have not looked at it in four years.  I do not need this book, why have I been holding on?! When I sent that text message to my boyfriend, he responded with, “No baby, I know how to cook for us.”  This simple answer seemed to make it so much easier, so simple.

Hoodies… oh dear god I have a hoodie obsession.  I pulled all the ones hung on hooks behind my bedroom door, off yesterday and moved them to the chair in the front room.  I looked, picked up each one, put it back down at least four times.  I could not bring myself to put any of them into the pile for Goodwill.  FAK.

What the hell is wrong with me?  Abandonment issues?  Financial struggle?  Personal and or work stress?  All of the above??!


Ok.  What am I holding on to, just in case… What if I need this dress for a special occasion?  What if I need… Or what if I want this later.  It’s time for it to go.  The trouble I have, is anxiety kicks up trying to place these things into the box to Goodwill.  Some how I need to force through it and just be done with it.

I’ve done a good job of cutting people out of my life that weighed me down, ones that made me feel bad about my life decisions or just in general made me feel bad about me.  Now it’s time to further disconnect from physical possessions. Physical possessions do not bring happiness, it brings a cluttered confined space, and this brings on more stress.  I feel it about mid week, when I feel my house has become a mess and I just become more frustrated by the way my house feels to me and I cannot get comfortable in my own space because it feels so confined.

Yesterday, going through one of the cook books, I found a handful of old pictures, yes actual pictures.  Pictures that were almost 20 years old to about 15.  One of the photographs was of my brother and my ex-husband, when my brother graduated crew chief school… The photograph stopped me in my tracks, a few heartbeats later I stuffed it somewhere and tried to re focus on something else to distract me.  This is not the first time this has happened.  There is an old ziplock bag full of pictures, stashed on a bookshelf semi out of sight.  These photos range from over 20, 25 years old to probably about 15 years.  I know there are pictures from my married life in there and I don’t want to look at them.  I’ve tried.  I start trembling and then I find myself shuffling the pile back together and stuffing them away again.  I know I need to do something with them, but what… just toss them?  Is this part of what I’m still clinging too??

I think one of the biggest bullshit lies as women we tell ourselves, is that retail therapy is good for the soul.  No, it’s not.  It’s clutter and trying to fix one problem with another problem.  A year or so ago, I made myself promise if I buy a bag (purse, gym bag, work bag) one goes out the door to Goodwill.  I have been rather successful at keeping to this.  Now, I need to apply this rule to everything else I buy.

  • Groceries -I have a horrible habit of not taking full inventory of my cupboards before going and buying things to cook with.
  • Clothes -aww hell.  I probably wear the same few articles of clothing over and over again.  I need to do another huge purge on my closet and dresser.  Yes I’ve done one or two since early winter and dragged out the obvious things I do not wear.  Now, it’s time to do it again. This applies to both gym clothes and everyday clothes.  I probably have way too many gym clothes too.  Hell my suits for work could probably use a purge too.  Am I holding on to extra stuff because what I wore use to be a huge fight?  Why are you wearing that?  Who are you trying to impress!
  • Books -holy fuckmonkeys.  This is probably one of the biggest.  I love books, I love being surrounded by books, real actual physical books.  Being in a bookstore or a library is probably one of my happiest places.  But how many books do I own, just because.  It’s time to purge those… That is the one thing I have yet to touch and their are piles of books in just about every room of my house.  Shut up.  It’s a tiny house.
  • Makeup.  I go through phases, I guess, what kind of makeup I wear and… No.  I just need to chuck most of it.  I’m not even sure how old some of it is.  Why am I holding on to it?  Because he (ex husband) said I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup to go to the grocery store?  Because he use to accuse me of cheating..


Text message with my boyfriend this morning, “Well, we can just set it on fire and I can come over to put it out.”
“Ya know.  Maybe that’s how I need to look at it.  If there was a fire, what would I want to replace.”
Maybe this is exactly how I need to look at it.  What would I truly be heartbroken loosing?

I need more coffee….


It’s one thirty-five pm, I swear three hours ago it was one thirty.  It’s Monday and this day is draggggggging….dragging me to my death.  feet_out_cubicle_smaller

The wallpaper on my work station desktop is a randomly shuffling colleague of pictures I have either taken or mostly collected off the internet, beautiful scenic nature scenes.  I’m dying in this cubical.  The overhead hallogen bulbs buzz their godawful annoying hum and I inwardly groan its only Monday.  Some where the random rhythm of doors opening and closing continues the draining beat of a Monday back to work after a good weekend.  A desk line rings at a desk, offset by a cell phone on the opposite side of the room.  In the distance a fire truck can be heard blaring down the city streets, sirens wailing in attempts at moving the late lunch traffic.
Is it 5pm yet?  Is it Friday at 5pm yet?!?

My adventure soul sister, my valkyrie sister text messaged me earlier asking if I was working Friday.  Its Labor Day weekend and she’s already plotted a 4-day.  Before responding to her, I had already wanted to take Friday off and I am in my supervisor’s office asking how the schedule is looking.  He tells me he isn’t sure, but as long as it isn’t bad I can have the day.  Bee wants to get in a new hike and so do I.  It doesn’t matter that I just did a solo hike Friday for a 7.5 mile day.  I want to go explore a new trail.

Sorting through the weekend’s emails, personal, I come across several… from REI and Cotopaxi, talking about end of summer sales.  STOP IT!! woman-cubicle-296x300 Another email from Cairn, talking about the end of summer and making the most of it as fast as possible.  Cramming things in after work and just taking the weekend and going, anywhere but somewhere.  I kind of what to whimper a little more.

Don’t get me wrong, I do not feel like I have wasted this summer like years pasts.  I do feel like I have put quiet a summer in, but still I am not ready for it to come to an end just yet.  Hell the doors have been on my Jeep the past month because I was too concerned I would aggravate the slip disk injury in my neck by pulling them back off… Of course the absolute down pouring rain the past three weekends didn’t encourage me to pull them either.  However, checking the week’s forecast, yesterday, the week looked free of rain averaging high 70s to low 80s during the day and cooling off into the high 50s at night.

High fifties at night….

I have mixed emotions about this.   Lower southwest Michigan hasn’t seen temperatures in the fifties since May.  Then again, it snowed on my birthday this year, May 15th.  It’s not like Michigan weather is super reliable, in fact we have had one hell of a blazing hot summer this year, and I have absolutely loved it.  Of course Farmer’s Almanac says we are going to pay for it this winter; with a colder and more snow than average winter.  Great, considering the winter of 2013/14 we had 130″ of unmelted snow on the ground in the city… Yeah, in the city.  My driveway had six foot high piles of snow, I couldn’t see up or down my street to back out of my own driveway.  So needless to say this winter should be fun.  I’m definitely buying the snow shoes.


I’m about to start spinning circles in my little aerodynamic desk chair.  I need to ditch these heels and suit for my hiking boots, shorts and day pack.  I want to hear the buzzing of bugs instead of halogen lights.  I want to hear the chirping of birds instead of the construction across the street on the new high-rise.  I want to hear the rustling of leafs in the wind, instead of the mechanical endless ringing of desk phones. My Jeep eagerly awaits downstairs in the underground parking garage, doorless with brand new 33s, waiting to find a muddy dirt road.  I just need….to….go.


….but it’s only Monday.
A audible groan with a huff escapes my throat.

-Inked Amazon

a free soul 

The free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it – basically because you feel good, very good -Charles Bukowski

A month ago, I posted a blog about getting out and doing more. More than just training and work.  Well… Planning weekends with friends has not been open until this weekend.  Don’t get me wrong, I have been putting plans into motion.

My middle sister read the last blog and when I went to the beach the following day, she was facebook messaging me from some where in the South Pacific -she is active duty Navy, and out to sea right now.  She made comments how she wished she was here to starting doing these things with me; but if you look at her facebook, this gal has already been doing the things I want to do.  So what better company to make long term plans with.  So quickly the conversation turned to the two of us making plans… One of them being camping, camping in Wyoming next year.

In the past handful of weeks, we have sent links for different areas of Wyoming back and forth.  I’ve asked her opinion on gear -the woman has hiked, camped, climbed and mountain biked in areas of Europe, California, Alaska and God knows where else! And largely just talking  about it, makes me so excited!

Along with making plans with my sister, my friend and fellow strongwoman, Brogan and I have gone hiking, tubing, stuffed our faces with all the good foods and topped it off with a touch of sunburns that smell like coconut suntan lotion. We are also made local plans for a camping weekend with several other girlfriends.  Which, I am hell bound I want to camp ON a Lake Michigan beach, which Brogan is just shaking her head at me.  My response, I said I don’t want to look at these cool pictures you see on REI, North Face or any of the other outdoor sites; I want to be the one taking the pictures and making these memories with my friends.  So at dinner Saturday night, Brogan was googling locations.


On my own there have been beach trips -yes we have real beaches here in Michigan; The Great Lakes are pretty much fresh water oceans.  I have also purchased new art supplies to replace those that have disappeared over the years, or just needed new.  I have also added a new design desk to my room, a small drawing table; and I saw small because anyone who knows the size of a drafting desk, knows just how big they usually are.  Anyway, I have spent my gym weekday rest days at my new desk, working on a few different projects.



And frankly it all feels amazing and good.

My soul is happy.  I have ended each one of these days with a glow and a genuine smile, or so my buddies on the other end of snap chat say so.


-Inked Amazon Warrior

time to start doing the things

United States Strongman Nationals 2016 is a day shy of two weeks out… and I don’t feel anywhere near as ready as I had wanted to.  I feel and know I am much stronger than last year, but the competition is three times the size it was last year.  I’ve refused to let myself think of it…because when I do, it starts to freak me out.  But if you’re not nervous about a competition there is definitely something wrong with you, Nationals and 340… yes THREE HUNDRED FORTY competitors… Well, that’s not different, that’s… hell I’m not even sure what that is.

The final three weeks in a training cycle seem to be the toughest mental game.  I’m ready for the break from training, I’m fighting to not become sidetracked with my diet and I have to scroll quickly through social media to avoid seeing other people’s ‘highlights.’

Which, on that thought; I’ve done some looking back and in the past almost two years I have not taken much if any time away from training.  In the last year and a half, I have pretty much gone from competition to competition.  Focusing on nothing but hitting the programmed weights and suddenly it’s summer time 2016.

Wait…WHAT?!? Summer 2016 already?!?!

In conversation with several of my fellow female strongman athletes, I’ve decided it’s time to start crossing off a few things on my bucket list.  First and foremost to not spend the entire summer training for another competition and letting the few short months of summer in Michigan pass me by, again.

Last year my Valkyrie sister Brandi took some time off and headed out with her “man-friend” (I freakin LOVE that term) to Montana for some amazing camping.  I cannot even begin to describe how jealous I am.  That is something I have always wanted to do but just kept saying, someday.  Well.  Enough with this someday shit.

Most of the want-to-dos on my bucket list consist of things that make me nervous or very uncomfortable… Which they should, right?  No skydiving is not one.  I was a paratrooper, I got paid to do that shit and at much shorter altitudes.  However, I decided to start with something small…or so I thought.

A little project.  Replacing the licenses plate bracket on my Jeep because it’s been busted, well lets just say a while now.  Doing any kind of work to my own vehicle is pretty far outside my comfort zone.  I know how to change the wiper blades, check fluid levels, add oil if needed and put gas in it…that’s about it.  But I figured just how hard can changing a licenses plate bracket be?  I mean enough Jeep owners have done it, or relocated it… So follow the directions and be good.

One problem.
No directions.
Just the bracket itself in the box.
Ok.  Hellooooo YouTube instructional videos.

First video, was decent, but of course the Jeep looks utterly spotless and straight off the assembly line.  Mine? Mine is almost ten years old and what the fuck is that and how the hell do I find it??  Three videos, a diagram, an adobe file of instructions and I now know I have six bolts I have to remove to pull off the rear bumper to gain access to these two tiny stupid screws that hold on the broken licenses plate bracket.  This took several hours a good amount of WD40, a few cuss words and some good old country music.  Eventually the bumper was off, or enough to have access to the screws and then quickly I was able to replace the plate and start the process of putting everything back together.  In what would be considered by seasoned Jeepers as an asinine amount of time.  My rookie ass was feeling pretty damn proud of the “little” project I had decided to start with.

My neighbor came over right as I was finishing and said if he would of seen me sooner, he would have come over and helped.  As much as I appreciated this gesture, in truth I’m glad I didn’t have any help.  It forced me to focus and make the job happen without someone taking over -which knowing myself, I might have let him with how frustrated I was at certain points.
He did however offer to help on any new projects, which I told him I would gladly take him up on… I have a couple that I am not sure I have the right tools or know-how to get them done.  We spent a good considerable amount of time standing in my backyard discussing modifications and him giving me his advise (which is very welcomed, and if you saw his Jeep you wouldn’t argue either).

This later got me talking to my girlfriends about a few short things I want to do… I want to travel. jeep porn.jpg I want to go camping.  I want to actually take my Jeep off-roading -something that has not happened yet, I know, I know.  Shut it.  I want to take my Jeep off-roading and camping.  I want to start doing the things we all see on Instagram and look at wishfully, daydreaming from our cubicles and computer screens.  At 37 it’s time to stop daydreaming and start putting a plan together.  It’s time to start having these pictures in my phone and not because I saved them from some random website to remind me of what I want to go…but because I was there, because I took the picture.

This by no means, means I am walking away from strongman; I love it too much.  I just need to have something besides work and training consuming my life.  Especially in the very few short summer months we have in Michigan.
Wednesday is June 1st, if I am lucky I might make it to the end of September without the doors going back on my Jeep because it’s too cold.  By November the weather here just turns shitty and unless you are into winter sports (which I am not) you’re pretty much stuck indoors until maybe April but probably May of the following year.  So basically, you have 3 good warm to hot months and two months of iffy weather, this year we got lucky and it warmed up considerably in May.

Tomorrow, I’m going to the beach.

-Inked Amazon Warrior


know your “why”

So the past week, two weeks, three…four?  I dunno I’ve lost count; a friend on facebook has been randomly posting: know your why.

Because I fucking want to.
Or so I thought.

I have not been running much the past year. Before that I ran to live, literally. A bad marriage, a bad job. I literally ran to live and loved to hate the run. At my lowest weight I was 155 pounds at 27 years old and running average 5 miles a day in Arkansas heat. At my heaviest running, I was 170 pounds and I thought I was fat. But. But my god the sense of freedom and clarity I felt during those runs. Some thing hurt? Run harder. Some thing made me want to cry, run farther, faster until the pain stopped.

So five weeks ago I started running again -no. This is not going to over take my strongman training. I have a FIT test coming in the next 15-60 days, which includes a 1.5 mile run. Anyway. Last week I wasn’t able to run, I was still coughing too much having been sick the four-five days before. Monday’s work schedule ended up scrapping any training. So Tuesday morning back on it.

Half a mile into my sprint drills it hit me again.
Why I did this.

I use to do a lot of trail running. The trail was a mile and a quarter loop, which I use to do several times. The hills, branches, sand, fallen trees, all of it; I loved every bit of it.  The smell of a spring run, the crunch of fall leave under my feet.  Even the crisp bite of a fresh snow fall.  I would plug in my earbuds and just go.  Whatever music I was listening to, I was lost to my own thoughts and the rhythm in my ears.  I would see my problems clear as day, I would envision moving through whatever they were and see myself standing tall on the other side.  Some runs I would envision an entirely different life…. Looking back, I chuckle because maybe things didn’t turn out exactly as I would imagine them during those runs but they are pretty damn close. Now trapped on that treadmill and starting to run again I realized how much it had meant to me in the past.  Yet in the past few years, it somehow slipped away.

I run to all kinds of music. It just depends. On this run, it was 80s music. Jon Parr’s Man in Motion started playing.

Growin’ up, you don’t see the writing on the wall
Passin’ by, movin’ straight ahead, you knew it all
But maybe sometime if you feel the pain
You’ll find you’re all alone, everything has changed

Suddenly it is 1985 and I’m six years old again running around the downtown Jacksonville Florida performance hall. Giggles and little girl laughter as I ran around with my ballet class before our recital. Wearing a purple leotard with pink and purple mesh tutu. I remember my mom fussing with my makeup and taking tons of pictures. 1985. It would be my only ballet recital. The following year I broke my left arm on the monkey bars at school and I never saw another dance or gymnastics class.

In 1985 my mother was younger than I am now, married with four kids. I’m two years older, divorced with one child. I often wondered if she gave up her dreams for us. Some days when she asks about how work is, how strongman training is going or even looks at my tattoos….. I see it.  I first saw it in her eyes when I joined the Army, again after I graduated Airborne school.  I just didn’t recognize it then. She did, she surrendered something. She says she wouldn’t trade a moment of raising four kids but I can’t help but wonder what it is, that she keeps secretly locked away, that she wishes she had done.

My mother raised her three daughters to be fierce. To be strong. To be bold. To be brave. But above all else to know that no matter what, we could always come home and rest our head under her roof.

Burning up, don’t know just how far that I can go
(Just how far I go)
Soon be home, only just a few miles down the road
I can make it, I know, I can
You broke the boy in me but you won’t break the man

This weekend my mom is moving. She’s been stuck in Michigan since late 1989 when my family moved from Jacksonville Beach, Florida to Michigan. All four of her children have grown and left. Her husband divorced her. Now it’s her turn. Yet, I don’t want her to go. I know I’m being selfish. This is her turn.


….and just like that my run is over.  The memory slips back into the faded depths and the realization I need to let her go is almost crushing.

So why do I do it?  Because my amazing mother taught me to never settle, to never believe my best years or the greats days were high school. (laughing) In fact she told me the very opposite.  High school is the worst only slightly beaten out by junior high years.  They are horrible awkward teen age years and they will pass.  She taught me to never settle for what other people believed I was capable of, to always strive for more.  But do to everything with passion.



Now training for my second United States Strongman Nationals (June 11th in Lexington, Kentucky), I don’t always love it… Training can suck.  There are good days and there are bad days.  Some times the bad days or frustration seems more frequent than the good days.

A recent conversation with fellow strongwoman and current super heavyweight champion Vivian Nguyen put my mind to ease.  We’re both battle the stress of a bigger competition and letting our thoughts get the better of us some days.

You can find Vivian’s blog here: The Haphazard Romance

During my text messages with Vivian I went looking for an article I had read from 10/20/Life.  I couldn’t find it, but I came across another….  Strength training isn’t always fun -10/20/Life   God if that didn’t hit it spot on!!

Having anything worth pushing for is not going to always be fun. Remember that and if someone tells you it’s all been such a fun process all of the time – question their sanity

Viv made the comment that some days she looks at training as her second job…and that is exactly it.  I know my coach would say, “this isn’t your job.”  However, getting my mind set and read to train, it is like a job.  It is like mentally preparing myself to go to work.  I don’t always want to go train.  I’m not in the mood.  I’m tired.  It was a long day at work.  I have other things on my mind…work, personal life, whatever.  Some days there are a thousand other places I would rather be than walking into the gym to train.  But here I go and I’m damn well going to put every bit I have in me, into the day.  Do I love it?  Not every day.  Hell there are some weeks I hate it…like last week and coming off being sick.  Some days are better than others, but in the end, halfway into a competition I am enthralled with every bit of it.

Guess I never gave up my dream of wearing a tutu and performing….. It’s just a little different at 36 than I saw it at six years old.


Thank you momma.  I love you so much.


-Inked Amazon Warrior

I’m a fat kid

I got scolded for calling myself fat…. 😳

When I say fat, I’m calling myself the good kind of fat. Meaning, yes, I am heavier set that what is considered socially acceptable or magazine quality. But I say fat with a laugh because I am happy. Because my fat has come at countless hours spent in the gym training. Days spent at getting stronger and not caring what the weight scale says. Because I can get eat my food without fear of what my reflection in the mirror will say.  My body is a powerhouse of strength and mental toughness. Because I stopped caring about how others perceive my body. Because I stopped comparing myself to rail thin magazine models.

Last week, a friend post on social media the link to a blog, that a fitness model wrote. An absolutely outstanding piece and I highly suggest others give it a read.

This is what my eating disorder looked like

Reading this woman’s blog was almost like reading words written by a younger version of myself. I would avoid the mirror just to avoid the disappointment I felt in my lack of appearing like a perfectly airbrushed cover model. My extra skin under my chin,despite how under weight I was. The extra pooch of god-knows-what under my waist from having a baby when I was 24….aka the “mom belly.” The never tightening under arm area also known as triceps despite all the bizallion magazine articles on how to tighten that stubborn area. Or the cellulite on the back of my legs no matter how much I ran or how many salads I ate….

Back then I would have told you my body image was fine. That I didn’t hold myself to unrealistic standards of cover models….but I did. I would frown or groan while looking at a Victoria’s Secret magazine or their webpage, groan because I knew none of the articles would actually look like the displayed images.

Even with being in Crossfit, the concept of eat to grow didn’t full take affect on me.  I remember I use to think I was eating so much food!!  How I’d have what I thought was a large breakfast, a big lunch and how I would cook something once I got home for the day.  There was no planning my day around what time I needed to eat to be ready for the gym versus what my work day has planned.  Do I have appointments, maybe I should eat earlier…  There was none of that.  Just a basic three meals a day.  Which I guess is better than when I was in the Army.  Then, I was good if I ate once or twice a day.  I remember several times, my then husband would ask if I had eaten at all.  Several times, I couldn’t remember the last time I ate…yes, I was literally that girl, the girl who forgot to eat!

Rabbit food is a waste of perfectly good stomach space

Now… I couldn’t tell you the last time I ate a salad. Or stepped on a weight scale besides weighing in for a competition. The last time I was worried about how much I ate or if I did enough cardio to balance how much I had eaten that day.

At one point, post divorce I weighed as little as 156…one hundred fifty-six pounds!! I ran three or four miles usually four times a week, drank way too many 20oz Cokes while working and ate once a day.  My breakfast would consist of coffee and dinner was usually whatever I didn’t finish from lunch.

Now.  I weigh between 190 and 195, again I’m not exactly sure because I have not stepped on a scale since my last competition December 5th. Yes, I still have my coffee first thing in the morning, but it usually has a scope of protein powder in it (right now it’s Muscle Pharm’s Cookie n’ Creme). I still struggle to eat solid foods within the first hour I am awake, so I usually make 2 scrambled egg sandwiches to go. Taking two lunches with me, ya never know if one is enough; the majority of the time the second one ends up as dinner after the gym.  However before the gym is usually oatmeal -which I discovered an awesome oats & chia at Costco last weekend!! No need to add any kind of sweetener, it’s awesome all on it’s own.

Crossfit to Strongman

There is roughly five years between these two pictures.  The right, when I was in Crossfit and average weight 165-170 pounds.  The left, at Michigan’s Strongest competition and weighing 195 pounds.

The thing is.  Like so many other women involved in strength sports.  I fell in love with the heavy lifting.  I realized if I didn’t eat, my lifts would never get stronger.  My work pant size has gone up 2-3 sizes depending on the brand/style.  Some I wear a 14 others a 16; when I use to wear a baggy 10.  My shirts, oh forget anything button down; might as well start singing fat kid in a little coat  I’ve learned to adjust my wardrobe, both for work and on my personal time -I fell in love with leggings two years ago and never looked back, lol.  Which anyone who has known me a hot minute or two, knows leggings was something I swore I would never wear.

As a woman, gaining weight is never easy, it’s not easy to accept it no matter how good others tell you, you look.  It’s still hard.  In truth, the fat kid reference came as my personal humor and way of dealing with the disappearance of my abs and the steadily growing numbers on the scale and increasing pant sizes (the scale was easier to deal with than the pant sizes).  Then one day, the humor turned into a badge.  I realized and embraced that I was no longer expecting myself to fit into some asinine ridiculous idea of what a woman should look like….


fuck your thigh gap


-Inked Amazon Warrior