Tomorrow morning I’ll be at the beach for two nights with some of my girlfriends. Because of my intolerances and not to mention my eating habits, I have prepped meals for the next three days at the beach. Sure, it’s a vacation, but it doesn’t have to get out of control. I also don’t have many options as to what I can eat these days, so prepping my meals makes certain situations a little less stressful, and a lot less hungry.
I’m completely fine with being the girl that’s eating chicken, sweet potato’s, and veggies on the beach out of Tupperware. One wrong bite of something and I turn into an extremely miserable, stomach aching, mess. So, I consider the public lucky that I am so prepared.
My excuse for constantly eating “healthy” and bringing around prepared meals in Tupper wear is a lot easier than it was before. I’m gluten and dairy intolerant. Once I explain that to people, they stop offering me cake as if it is the last thing they have to cross off of their dying bucket list. Before that, I didn’t have an excuse. I just wanted to eat healthy. I wanted to feel good. I wanted to look good. I wanted to feel that I looked good. And I wanted to look like I felt good. Anyway. These days, the criticism you get from your peers seems a little reversed. You don’t want to drink 10 days in a row and not remember a thing and ruin the crap out of your liver? You have some nerve to miss out on a night at the bar! Oh my god I can’t believe you aren’t going out! What are you gonna do? Sit here by yourself and watch TV? Like, yes, I am completely secure with everything going on in my life that I can sit here by myself every now and then. If I miss Sally drunkenly falling down the steps at the bar, I’ll just push her down them next weekend. It will all work out. I don’t force everyone to run marathons and work out with me, so don’t force me to chug a handle of Bacardi. I just won’t do it. Just because my life mainly focuses on nutrition & fitness does not mean I don’t like to go out and have a good time. There is a lot more to us obsessive fitness freaks than those annoying tweets about our workouts and instagrams of healthy dinners we eat. I swear. I absolutely love going out. In moderation. Though I don’t moderate my drinks well. Maybe one day we can talk about Rumpleminz. But I’m not sure that I even remember.
Back to the whole topic of succeeding. You have to be selfish. You have to want it. No one is going to help you, and no one is going to support you. They want you to eat a million cupcakes with them. Why? Because cupcakes make you happy. For like……..5 seconds. You want to know what else makes you happy? Getting a ridiculous PR on a lift. My coach, and friend, Rebecca, is texting me about her ridiculous clean & jerk PR. She is on cloud nine, and that type of cloud nine lasts for way more than 5 seconds. Another thing that makes you happy, fitting comfortably in a roller coaster seat. I’m guilty of that struggle. Also, losing inches. If you lose inches, you’re probably losing fat. Then you might lose a pants size. If you lose a pants size, you probably look really freakin’ good. And that makes you feel really good. You’re happy. Inside and out. If your mind isn’t in it and you don’t want it bad, you won’t succeed.
Prepare to succeed.
That’s what America is all about, right? Well, for the most part. And when it comes to America’s favorite holiday, July 4th, the only thing you prepare for is a food baby and one too many drinks. Yesterday was a blast.
A few drinks in I was feeling like this:
When in reality I looked like this:
Either way, drinks were flowing and the sun was (finally) shining. Everyone and their mother was at the beach, and it was up to us stragglers to have a good time in good old Clarksville. Not to mention burgers and hot dogs were cooked in mass. Is there anything more American than a hot dog and a beer?
As it was a Holiday, it wasn’t the cleanest day for food. I’ve become very good at keeping myself distracted and not focusing on all the good food that is around at these picnics. I feel good when I make it through a day where I could completely stuff myself, but don’t. But regardless, it’s okay to hop off the bandwagon, give yourself a treat. Have two hot dogs, not one. America would be proud.