The day I got my boob

I’m sure every adult remembers praying for some ridiculous thing as a kid; like a unicorn or a castle. When I was six years old I prayed every night to be 5’8” with big boobs. God can attest to this.  The only other ridiculous thing I ever prayed for was to meet Michael Jackson because I was convinced I was going to marry him.  I am still very disappointed over this failed prayer but that is another long post to share.

Now I don’t consider myself much of a religious person.  In fact, I have my doubts about this God man everyone talks about. I do believe there is a higher power and I think only reason why I have that belief is well, guess what? I’m 5’8” with big boobs! Obviously somebody was listening. Now if I had only prayed for an ass…

I don’t why I was obsessed with being 5’8″. I some how knew that was a tall height and I thought my mom was tall and I wanted to be just like her (she is 5’1” by the way).  My obsession with boobs on the other hand came from my excitement for being a woman.  It was my dream to be able to wear high heels, fancy dresses and have big boobs to suffocate people with.

In my 6th grade health class we started to get “the talk”.  Not the sex talk, but the “your body is going to start changing” talk.  I was elated! We even got little brown paper gift bags with “secret” feminine products and I couldn’t wait for the day to be able to use my cute little pad. Seriously, what was I thinking?  My health teacher began to explain to us that when we start growing our little boobies we are going to notice this Lima Bean type mass under our breast.  I had no idea when or how this bean was going to pop up and I honestly didn’t even know what a Lima Bean was.   But I wasn’t worried because me and God had a deal.

Not too long after that chat, I was in the mall with my mom with my arms crossed when all of a sudden, “MOM! MOM! I HAVE A LIMA BEAN! I HAVE A LIMA BEAN!! LOOK! LOOK! TOUCH IT!” I was in the middle of the store, poking my child breast trying to prove to my mom I had a Lima bean.  My mom’s reaction was a mix of embarrassment and confusion. What the hell is a Lima bean?  Like, really?  Who tells their child that this legume is going to start growing under your skin?  That could be quite scary for young kids to hear.  As a mother, I am sure you can’t really ignore a child poking her breast and screaming Lima Bean.  So she rushed me into the changing room so I could shut up and show her my bean.

Man, I was so excited to be growing my boob. Yes, it was just one at the time; the left to be exact, and I could not wait to go home and tell my dad. The first thing that came out of my out of my mouth at the dinner table was, “Daddy, guess what? I’m growing….”

Dad: “Of course honey, you are growing…”

I sat there with my head held high and my Lima bean in the air.   My dad just looked at me in shock and almost choked on his food.  Apparently my mom kicked him under the table so he wouldn’t say something to crush my excitement and that point all he could do was Congratulate me. 

Ahhh…one of the happiest days of my life….the day I discovered my Lima bean. I stopped praying after that because I know these big knockers were coming in and would be taking the world by storm.  But the anticipation of my soon to be large breast were killing me.  Every night before I showered I stared at my profile in the mirror in my training bra.  I would suck in my stomach so my ribs would pop out and pull my pathetic bra under my ribs to give me the illusion of what boobs looked like in a bra. #truestory

Now when ever I suck in my stomach to check out my profile, it is only to see my imaginary wash board stomach.

Hmm…maybe I should start praying again?


Ah yes, feel the pain…

These past 3 days have been rough.  I know things will become more routine after 2 weeks or so but good lord, I am bitter in the morning.  Waking up early and going to bed early has been quite brutal.  Well, more so the waking up part.  Going to bed early is a talent of mine. The diet hasn’t been too bad. It is basically an experiment until we get it right and my only complaint is I get pretty tired mid day.  It will take some time but everything will work out.

My gym routine has been quite a little pain in the butt. Literally, I am extremely sore.  It almost hurts to breath; I love it.  I love muscle soreness and pain.  I was that kid who would get a bruise and push on it. Is that weird?  I have to admit though, mentally it has been a challenge to get through my whole routine.  The only thing so far that keeps me going is my new gym play list.  It lets me get lost in a whole new world and keep pushing through.  I had some recommendations made to me through my trainer and some I just found on facebook from friends.  Got to love those annoying music posts! 

Here is the list that has made the cut of constant repeat:

Temperature vs. Satisfaction – Sean Paul vs Benny Benassi
Rabiosa – Shakira Ft. Pitbull
End of Time – Beyonce
Levels – Avicii
Infinity – Infinity Ink
And probably one of my top two favorites for the week…
Oblivion M. Pokora
I think I like this song so much because I come up with Samba routines in my head as I am doing my cardio. Yes, this is true…I day dream about dance routines and I don’t think that will ever go away.
Alright kids, I’m off to another glorious day at work.  It feels like the week is almost over, but shit…it just started. fml.

Amanda, this one is for you.

My sister gave me shit because my posts haven’t solely focused on my fitness dreams of being a bikini competitor.  But lets be honest, how interesting would this be if you read my work out routines and bland diet recipes daily?  Don’t get me wrong, I intend on sharing all that fun stuff too (maybe), but this blog is more about the process of what it is like for me to go through this and anything funny that comes to mind as well.  In honor of my sister’s shaming, I dedicate this fitness update to her.  Actually, I had thought this post out already but we can pretend she had something to do with this.

First, I’m a Savage.  You probably wouldn’t know what that means but basically I joined a fitness team (You can check them out here: I just started working with my coach and we are in the process of finalizing my diet plan.  Then we will set a date for my competition (I am thinking some time in June) and I can start buying my shoes and suit. Clearly, the best part! I also just printed out the form to get my NPC card.  I need this in order to compete as an amateaur.

Yesterday, Ally & I signed up for a gym and I want to live there.  It literally has everything you ever need to live a good life.  Not kidding. I went today for a cardio sesh, nothing big but tomorrow morning it all begins hard core. I’ve bought my food, I have my Isagenix Shake, got my play list and I am ready to go!

This is going to sound strange, but I am ready and excited to not have a social life.  I mean, let’s be honest, I don’t go out much, I would hardly consider myself a social butterfly and I don’t do the “raging”.  That is what the kids are calling it right? BUT I do love me some social eating and occassional drinking.  That will clearly not be happening any more.  I will also need my beauty rest which means bed at 9 for me.  We clearly know that will not be hard.

Dating will be difficult and I actually have no desire for it. This is important to me and most people don’t get it.  Whatever.  Don’t fret kids, I still have a couple of dating stories to share and I am sure some guy will say something dumb to me that will strike a rant worth of a post.  Got to love dumb men.

Alright kids…say goodbye to the regular ol’ Kristine.  Tomorrow marks the day of the new me that will probably go through some heavy mood swings due to this new life style.  Cannot Wait!


Beauty & the Freak

Why is it that we always get the guys we don’t want, but the ones we do want have a difficult time acknowledging your existence? This particular story is pretty common in my life, more so in my college days than now. Now I just hate everyone.

My first year in college I went to an all girl school. Although I had an amazing time with my new friends, I really wanted more of a co-ed college experience. So my sophomore year I transferred to St. John’s University in hopes to have an endless amount of opportunities with my tinted boys. It’s true, this girl is down with the brown.

Facebook was about a year or two old and I treated it like MySpace (aka add anyone you thought was hot to be your friend. But get the fuck away if I don’t know you now.). My summer before SJU, I was scoping out my future boyfriends and came across this one guy…I am trying to come up with a clever nickname for him but I am drawing a blank. It happens.

Anyway, I come across his profile, couldn’t quite tell how attractive he was because the picture was small and I am blind, but I saw big lips and brown skin and I figured I couldn’t go wrong. I am sure you see where this is going, but in all fairness he wasn’t completely unattractive. In fact he sold me with his personality, crazy right? We seemed to have a lot in common, I enjoyed talking to him and most importantly he laughed at all of my jokes. Clearly, things were looking up. Our conversations went on for a little over a week when he decided to claim me. Now again, I am not that easily claimable for the simple fact that I am easy to scare. You have to treat me gently; like a stray cat that you are trying to domesticate.

We had not met yet and he was telling me how he was going to make up a story how he met me in some mall to his friends. This way they wouldn’t think I am free game. Um….I came from an all girl school. I know I’ve been around a few s va-jays, but I am also not trying to lock myself down to the first dick that walks my way. Not quite my style. On top of that, I am not about making up stories on how I met someone off Facebook. It’s really not that serious and I have no shame whatsoever.

I was slightly turned off and his obsessive one after another phone call started to creep me out. Again…gentle, stray, haggard cat. Handle with care. School was approaching and I had really only talked to this guy for like two weeks. I was talking about moving into my dorm when he asked to help. Sweet, but not really. I haven’t met this guy and I’m not trying to have him around my parents. The last thing I want to do is give my dad a heart attack before he sends his sweet little daughter off to co-Ed college. And let’s be real, aside from the fact that I hadn’t met this guy in person, wasn’t even sure if I was going to like him in person, no guy needs to meet my family unless they are important. We are a small gang and if you hold no weight you aren’t coming near us.

I declined his stupid invitation and he insisted on helping me saying that my parents would love him, especially my dad. Clearly, he had no idea who my father was. This was a man who was willing to protect his babies even if it meant threatening a stupid 4th grader who harassed me all the way home from school every day. And he definitely wasn’t shy darting through traffic because he saw his 16 year old talking to some guy she liked. I mean talk about salt in my game. Never the less, my dad was not going to give two shits about this college kid and his delusional sense of confidence made me want to throw up in my mouth.

This guy never helped me move in and I immediately cut him out of him life. I’m pretty good at that. Unfortunately I saw him on campus ALL THE TIME and I fell for the stupid “feel bad for me” looks. I was guilted into apologizing for being such a bitch and he must of saw this as a sense of weakness or just that I really liked him, whatever. But he took this as an opportunity to be obsessive and clingy and I sure as hell was not going through that again. I ended that so fast and never looked back. Now that I think about it, I should have saw him as a problem when he compared himself to LL Cool J. True story.

If I could only figure out a way to get the men I want to be that obsessed with me…life would be grand.

Actually, I probably wouldn’t want them either. Sad.


Suck it Uhaul!

Moving is the bitchiest thing one should ever have to go though especially when it’s just you are your dad doing all the heavy lifting. My poor dad, he got stuck with me. A kindergartener has more strength in their hand than I do in one bicep. It is quiet sad actually, but unfortunately true. I would insert some witty comment how that won’t be case next time around with my new body building dreams, but lets be real, I never want to help lift furniture again.

Thanks to my fabulous roommate most of the unpacking is done. I just have a few things to organize in my room and then we have to completely rearrange the beauty room. Yes, I said beauty room. You have to see it to believe it.

My fabulous and expensive dresser got ruined in this debacle. So I am down a piece of furniture and it’s sitting in the garage waiting to be replaced. God, I hate moving.

And holy butt crack, I am SO SORE! I don’t think I could create this type of muscle soreness in the gym even if I tried, especially in my back and neck. Strong hands for a massage would come in handy right about now. But I know I am asking for too much because I couldn’t even get strong hands to help me move. #alittlebitter

I wish today could be a day of rest but alas it’s not. I still have to sign up at a gym, prepare my food for the week, do laundry and try to attack the rest of my shit.

Did I mention I hate moving?


Valentine’s Day

A day of love, chocolate, flowers and depression. If your are single, you most likely have the temptation of locking yourself in a closet while eating a pint of ice cream, then throw it all up and jump off your balcony to end your single life misery. But If you are in a relationship that day, you are that good friend holding her hair back as Suicide Sally throws up her chunky monkey. And who really cares if Sally jumps off the balcony. You have to get home to have passionate, sweaty, hot monkey love with your future ex-boyfriend.

Good old Valentine’s Day.

Well ladies and gays, if there is one thing you must know about me it is that I have developed a near rehab obsession with ecards. Those fantastic cards of sarcastic truth can really get me through the day. So before you find the sharpest knife in your kitchen drawer and the most transparent vein in your wrist, please enjoy some of my favorite Valentine’s ecards for your laughing pleasure.


Lets be honest…

Everything fell apart. I had a couple of days where I just didn’t give a shit about a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g

And right when I mentally pumped myself to get back on track I got slammed with the flu for a week.

Immediately after I went to Vegas. A healthy lifestyle does not exist in Vegas, especially when your purpose is to party.

This week all I can focus on is making sure everything is all set to move, which I will be doing Saturday.

Valentine’s day is coming up and passing up dinner and wine with great friends is just not in the cards right now.

Dating feels impossible. I’m not suppose to eat almost anything in a restaurant and drinking is out of the question. And if the guy doesn’t get what I am trying to accomplish then good luck to that. I foresee this being am issue with the current flavor of the week. Well, along with some other things that I have chosen not to put him on blast for. Haha…just piss me off and it may come out. No, I’m kidding. I’m not kind of woman. My dating post are meant to make people laugh, not piss people off and seek revenge. That’s what twitter is for.

I know I am making excuses and allowing life to get in the way of my goals and I am very much aware of my faults. It happens and it’s something that I am working on.

I’m mentally exhausted. My body has finally come around to feeling normally since the flu. I’m stressed out about the fact that I’ve fell off track, stressed over the idea that life has to change to accomplish these goals (aka social life) and i don’t know how to balance it and in the midst of all that, I am still trying to put together the pieces to my future. I’m a mental wreck and its on my own damn fault. I’m still working on centering myself. Trust me, this is progress…#formertrainwreck

In efforts to get my shit together, I think I’ve found my trainer for all of this fitness comp stuff. I’ll post more about that when shit is set in hard rock stone, but I’m excited about this. I have been following a plan and I’m ready to not just have someone make me feel guilty for cheating, but to learn more about the sport and about my body. I’ve always been curious about what it can handle and how I can change it. Once I move in with my Yang (aka Ally….the model that never laughs #vegasjoke), ill feel more settled again. Life won’t be so bad.