So. I'm on a plane. Flying to see my Barbie doll sister (seriously she looks like Barbie) in LA for the weekend. In the 30 minutes I've sat in this tiny Spirit airlines seat, I've managed to finish all the snacks I packed. Yes, all of them. Rice cake:check. Rice roller:check. Melba crackers:check. Two starbursts:check. Show's over, friends. Carbs are GONE. I can see you now, eyelids halfway open in disinterest, gum smacking quietly, staring at this blog like okay you ate, what's new Aubrie?
I'm starting to wonder if something is wrong with me. I literally just caught myself staring at the mom across the aisle feeding her kids fruit snacks from a crinkly little bag, dreaming about what those chewy little demons must taste like. The snacks, not the kids, you sicko! To be clear, they were those Walmart smiley face ones-which everyone knows are the best freaking fruit snacks known to man aside from Annie's bunny fruit snacks and Gummi multi-vitamins (which I've definitely overdosed on more than once). Go try them right now if you haven't.
Oh you're too ashamed to walk into Walmart and get them? Here's an idea, either pay some homeless man to walk in there and buy them for you or you can just grab your ugliest floral nightie, slap a baseball cap on, some crocs, and take one for the team.
If you've kept up with our YouTube videos, you know how much WE love to eat. I say WE because I don't like to be alone in this- hangry, party of two! Eating is a competitive sport in our household right now. Every night, I insist that Brad has not eaten enough and likewise, he insists that I am only saying that so I can watch him eat more. There may be some truth to that. The boy can put it down. And he's even handsome when shoving gobs of salad straight into the dome, so of course I make a spectacle out of it. However, I have to admit that, if I speculate for one split second that he's eaten less than me or just as much as me by night time, I start to feel panicky like maybe I'm eating too much and I need to slow down and maybe bulking isn't for me--which leads me to encouraging him to eat another bowl of chocolate Cheerios. I'm so bad.
We're bulking, as you may have read in the last blog, which means we get to eat a little more than normal. I track my macros most days and Brad half-tracks his. He's a math genius (and other kinds of genius like traffic-genius and travel-planning genius and find-a-dessert-place-near-me-now-before-I-flip-my-lid genius HE IS BASICALLY GOOGLE) so he keeps relative tabs on what he's eating but doesn't track. Which you can see more in his day of eating video. So some days I truly feel that I'm eating way more than him. Because I'm a champion snacker. Girl can eat all day if you let her. Just like that panda lying on his back in the zoo. Munch munch munch on that bamboo all day long. Panda.
I digress. Also I'm distracted by this:
Yep that's a trophy. For fantasy baseball or something like that. Or minor league. Or little league, I'm not sure all I know is that it's definitely not Major leagues because a) they would be in their own private jet, b) I also know that they are all too drunk to be on a plane, and c) I also know that I'm tired of clapping and cheering for them because I don't even know what they won. I'll google it later. Maybe. Something about gypsies. (Later i found out they won a softball game)
Back to it: I cannot say that bulking has been great or easy or dreadful or difficult. In fact, it's probably somewhere in that neutral zone, right where Donald Trump stands (super neutral *sarcasm*). On average, every day is pretty simplified because I choose to make it that way. I have times of panic like maybe this isn't a good choice or I start to worry that I'll never be able to lean out, and I also have times that I've relaxed so much I eat myself into a food coma, and it all averages out into that comfortable neutral zone. As with many choices in life, if you are dedicated and determined enough and keep the end goal in site, then things are never truly hard, they just get you closer to where you're hoping to be. I know it sounds like some motivational speech Bruce Jenner gave before he turned into Cait, but it's so incredibly true. Things are only hard when you have labeled them as hard. Stop saying things are hard. Having cancer is hard. Losing a loved one is HARD. Eating more? Leaning out? That's not hard, that's fun. It's the most Funnest.
Look at your life right now and determine what it is you have labeled as hard, erase that label, and rewrite it as something you're going to work toward No matter what. Because you know, and I know, that you're worth it.