Let's get real, shall we?

Three weeks out.

Actually, make that twenty days.  Twenty days until I drive a really long way, squeeze into a really tiny bikini, and walk on a really bright stage in really high heels and try not to make a really big ass out of myself.  Piece of cake, right?

I forgot to update last week... kind of.  Truthfully, I had a lot to say at four weeks out, but I just didn't want to write about it.  I ran into this problem with my old blog: sometimes, I wish I hadn't told any "real life friends" about it (I did tell a whole three people), because openness and candor comes easier with anonymity, especially with this experience.

I feel like I have to put on this happy front about the show and make sure to not talk about it too much, and it's hard when it's so all-encompassing.  I remember when I started running and I would spend hours looking at pace calculators, course elevation maps, reading first marathon blogs... and I was lucky enough to have friends in my life that were also new to the sport and wanted to delve into every detail of every aspect of every race.  And it was lovely.

This competition is dare I say bigger and more pervasive in every aspect of my life... exponentially moreso than a race ever was.  Even the big ones.  It's not better, or a bigger accomplishment, it's just more involved.  With running I had to hit my long runs and try to get in mid-week mileage and research research research, and it was a lot.  I obsessed over the details.  

With this prep, I plan out every tiny bit of food that I eat, my workout schedules, progressions, supplements, posing.  It's pleasurable, for the most part, but it is on my mind, 24/7.  I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about my macros man.. it's nuts.

But anyway, sometimes it's super, super tough.  Truth be told I have almost said fuck it several times in the past few weeks.  I've been hungry, moody, embarrassed, unsure, and completely unable to recall one reason why I started this in the first place.  And unlike with running, I have almost no one saying "don't quit now dummy!"  And possibly worse, I have even less people to whine to, and to those that people person, I apologize.  No one likes a whiny facebook friend.  :)

Over the past few days, I've done some deep thinking about it, and I've decided to go ahead and do the show.  I haven't signed up yet, but I will tomorrow.  I remember why I wanted to do it amidst the thirty reasons I don't want to do it.

1. To push my body to a place it has never been and likely will never be again.
2. To experience a culture I've always looked in on with a mixture of curiosity, disdain, and admiration.  
3. To say I found something that genuinely scared me and that I did it anyway.  That sounds cheesy as fuck.  Sorry about that.
4. Finally, and most importantly, there have got to be some funny fucking stories that come out of gluing a sparkly bikini precariously close to my b-crack, and frankly, I'm becoming a bit dull at parties in my old age and need a few self-deprecating tidbits to add to my repertoire.  

Stay tuned for an actual weekly update here... it's coming, complete with progress pics.  Sigh.