Sometimes I’m so sarcastic, people actually think I’m dumb

Because I’m in San Antonio for South Central Regionals, it’s been a little difficult to get my posts out like clockwork. So I’ll actually give you two #blogeverydayinMay posts at once!

Day 24: list your 3 worst traits.

1. I am stubborn.
On a good day, I can be mildly infuriating. On a terrible day, I’m wildly infuriating. When I get an idea in my head, that’s what I’m gonna do. Other people and common sense be damned. Most would argue that sometimes, I don’t have the brightest ideas, but I like to think of things as an adventure. Unless you don’t agree with my adventure. In that case, eff you and I’m going to do it anyway. Because you telling me I can’t/shouldn’t do it only makes me want to do it more. Naturally. My kindergarten teacher said I was bossy. I like to think of it as, “I’m good at issuing directives.” to-may-to, tom-ah-to.



2. I discipline other people’s children.
I don’t know if this is the teacher in my or just how I am, but I cannot stand to see a child misbehave. It drives me crazy. Contrary to popular belief, I was a very well behaved child because if I wasn’t, I was going to become real friendly with the other side of an ass-whoopin’. Nothing grinds my gears more than seeing a child be disrespectful, touch things they aren’t supposed to, or throw a tantrum. And I will take it upon myself to make them stop. Which is not good. People don’t like it when you chastise their children in wal-mart, I’ve come to learn. I’m also learning this very important lesson: if people want to turn their children into monsters, let them.


3. I can be so good at being sarcastic that people actually think I’m dumb.
I’ve always had a smart mouth. It’s just one of those habits my parents couldn’t break. I’ve always got something smart to say, whether I actually voice it or not. As I’ve gotten older, my sarcasm’s gotten better. Except it seems that the people around me have become less receptive. Sometimes, I’m so good at being sarcastic that people actually think I’m dumb. Which is awkward for everyone, generally speaking.

Day 25: Something someone told you about yourself that you’ll never forget.

Y’all, my voice changes. A lot. My accent will change depending on who I’m around. Mainly, I will adapt to accommodate them. 

Sometimes I’m real country
Sometimes I’m a little cajun
Sometimes I’m a little yatty
Sometimes it’s kinda ghetto

I adapt to my environment. And it’s never intentional, it just happens.

But I distinctly remember coming to my dad at 14 and being very upset about it. And I’ll never forget my dad’s reply:
“you change your voice because you are intelligent. You don’t want to be identified as the outsider. And that’s smart. It’s a survival tactic. You want people to feel comfortable around you and not feel like you are different from them. When in Rome, you do as Romans do. People who adapt to their environment survive.”

I’m a survivor, y’all.

{what are your worst traits?}

You+Me=US and other things I didn’t learn in school

Day 23 of #blogeverydayinMay challenge. Thanks to Jenni, I might not have anything left to write after May!

“Things you’ve learned that school won’t teach you.”

How to deal with heartbreak.
Maybe some of you learned this while you were actually in school, but I can say with a rather large amount of confidence that I didn’t learn this in Calculus. (even though you+me does, in fact, equal us)
I remember my first real breakup really well. And I was devastated. An unnatural level of devastated. 17 year old Ace was all like, “WHAT AM I GOING TO DO NOW? I LOVED HIM! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM!” Well, look at you now, 25 year old Ace. Breathin’ ‘n’ shit.



Me and my very first, real life, boyfriend. Don’t judge my outfit. I was on the damn dance team. Also, those are homecoming mums in the right picture. What? Your school didn’t walk around on homecoming day with flowers attached to 5 foot long ribbons on them? What kind of weirdo school did you go to?

You gotta be smarter than the shit you’re f*ckin’ with.
This one I learned directly from my friends. Whenever you’re dealing with a problem, you have to be smarter than the problem. You have to look at the entire thing, from all sides. You have to look at the short run and the long run and then determine your next move. You can’t live totally in the right now but you can’t live totally in the future. So you have you outsmart the problem always. And people who can outsmart the trouble usually find that trouble doesn’t find them often.

Stupid is as stupid does.
Big shoutout to Forrest Gump for the eloquent way to sum this one up. Basically, if you do stupid things, you are stupid. Point, blank, period. There’s no way to get around that one, chief. Yes, we all fudge up and do dumb things once in awhile and of course, you can redeem yourself. But if you do them, even for that moment, you are stupid. So quit that shit. Also, you cannot ever convince a stupid person that he or she is not stupid. You just can’t. You can try, but it’ll only result in you being frustrated and overwhelmed. The best you can do is smile, say, “you know what? You’re right” and then leave it to them to figure out that they’re dumb.


Of all the things that don’t really matter, family does.
Family matters. And not like the TV show. Growing up (and living 10 hours away from home) has made me realize just how important family really is. There’s no one who will quite understand your brand of crazy but your family. Probably because they’re the same brand of crazy as you.

You should know that the picture at the left is barely even an eighth of my family. Notice my grandma is laughing. I loved the way her laugh sounded. 

Mama Nancy, Daddy Carlos and Me. A family of characters.

Always stay friends with the people that knew you when you were awkward and ugly. This is how you know these people are your real friends.
If you had friends during your awkward middle and high school years, keep them. You know they’re your friends because they accepted you even when you were at your ugliest. Plus, by now, they probably have way too much on you to ever get rid of them legally.
LOL.

What’s that you say? Summer reading?

Sorry I’ve been hiding for the past few days! It’s a big day…the LAST DAY WITH STUDENTS! Which naturally means that it’s also: “throw every loving thing on top of teachers before they can escape to summer” day. Meh. Fine. I totally got this.

Me. Mostly overwhelmed. Also underpaid. 

But I wanted to make sure I kept up with Jenni’s #blogeverydayinMay challenge!

A list of your favorite posts from your archives.

I’ve only been running this thing for about 5 months. (uh, what? 5 months already? HOLY SHIZ.) so my list may not be that long. But it’ll probably be entertaining!

annnnnnnnd go!

This Wouldn’t Be The First Time…-My very first post. My very first progression picture. The very very beginning.

You don’t have to be great to start-Why you should start crossfit. Right. Now.

The thing about: being selfish-My “new year’s resolution” or whatever.

The thing about: cheating reps-Don’t be that guy/girl in the gym.

Why I hate the word “thick”– Because, seriously, I do.

Burpees, Snatches, and Boobs– I think the title says it all.

Don’t get too “muscly”– and other things to say to me that piss me off.

Religion: Crossfit

Alllllll of that should give you more than enough reading material for, um, ever. 

Happy Tuesday!

Crisco and Wedding Rings

Day 18 of Jenni @Story Of My Life’s #blogeverydayinMay Challenge.

“Tell a story from your childhood. Dig deep and try to be descriptive about what you remember and how you felt.”

Mmm. A childhood story.
Just a warning: if you’re on a paleo challenge you may not wanna read this.

I come from a pretty hispanic family and we probably eat all the foods that you imagine we do. And my grandma was the best cook in the whole world. Rice and beans, enchiladas, calabasa con pollo, huevos rancheros. Nom nom nom. My most favorite thing to eat was my grandma’s homemade tortillas. They were perfection. They were thick and buttery and amazing. 

I remember watching her make the balls of dough as a kid, fascinated. She would pull out all the ingredients, put them on the counter and then, like magic, she’d be putting fist sized balls of dough in a plastic bag to refrigerate for cooking the next morning. Because, of course, we needed fresh tortillas for breakfast the next morning. 

I distinctly remember the day she let me help make tortillas. I got to stand up on a chair so I could reach the counter like a big girl. I remember laughing as she’d kneed the dough and her wedding ring would disappear into it and come up covered. Then, she’d complain that she never remembered to take it off before she started. She would walk through each step out loud so I’d remember what she was doing. I remember her smelling like flour, Crisco, and grandma all rolled up. She’d hand me a big clump of dough and tell me to roll it up in a perfect circle and I did as I was told. By the time we got to the end of the dough, I had a lot of perfectly round circles. She used the last of the dough to make two “baby circles”. We packaged up our circles and left our baby circles out.

She used her rolling pin to flatten out our baby circles and cook them up on her comal (flat skillet). She covered them in butter and we sat down to eat ’em. She said we needed a treat for all of our hard work.

Even after all these years later, I still remember what she smelled like, how she laughed, and how to make the perfect flour tortilla (I’d share the recipe, but it’s a secret!)

{What’s your favorite childhood memory?}

Because Sometimes You Can Capture Happy

Day 17 of Jenni @ Story of my Life’s #blogeverydayinmay challenge. 

“your favorite photo of yourself and why”

Both of these photos were taken in Spain in 2009. I don’t remember who took either one, but I truly love them both.
I think living in Spain was one of the most wonderful times in my whole life. If I could take my family and move back, I absolutely would. 

Top: I was fast asleep on our bus on the way to Madrid. I had curled up into a ball and cuddled up with a teddy bear that had been given to me by a guy I was seeing at the time in the states. Yes, I’m wearing shorts in that photo. I was actually resting at this time. Real sleep. Something I haven’t seen…probably since 2009.

Bottom: Me and my roommate, Alex. We had gone visit El Alhambra y El Generalife and were at the top of a tower where the Moors defended their land against the Spanish Inquisition. As we were admiring the beautiful views, someone captured a gorgeous photo of us, genuinely smiling. There’s nothing that says happiness more than this photo.

Linking up with:
Let Them Eat Cake

My Own Worst Enemy

Day 16 of the #blogeverydayinmay challenge.

“Something difficult about your ‘lot in life’ and how you’re working to overcome it.”


My most difficult “lot in life” has been my weight and body image. “I’m shocked to hear that,” said no one ever.


But before I delve into all of that, I think it’s really important to identify all the wonderful lots in life that I have been dealt. 


A mama that supports me and loves me through everything I do.

A daddy that teaches me how to live a full and simple life.
Siblings that are just as crazy as I am and are also fiercely protective. 
A grandmother who loved me with her whole heart.
Friends that I am lucky enough to also call family.
A passion for reading.
A love for state history.
A very distinct birthmark on my left ankle and right foot.
A penchant for tattoos.
Well-shaped eyebrows.
Small feet. Big ears.
An inquisitive nature.
A smart mouth.

But I’d say the one thing that I’ve always struggled with is my weight and how I view myself.

The first thing you should know: my mama is gorgeous and petite. She is the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen. She’s a teeny 102 lbs and when you see her, you just wanna pick her up and carry her in your pocket. 

I want to just hug her all the time. 


I am built like my aunt. My aunt is 5’10. Unlike my aunt, I am 5′ tall. 

So I don’t exactly have a lot of space for all these hips and back and thighs and shoulders. I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly. And where as my aunt can gain 10 lbs and no one notices, I gain 3 pounds and look like I gained a 2nd grader.

I spent a whole lot of time in high school (and college) wishing that I had a different body type. I wished I was skinny and slim. I wished my thighs didn’t touch and that I didn’t have a butt. I wanted to cut paper with my collarbone and see all of my cheekbone. I just wanted to wear the 00 size jeans from Abercrombie like all the cool girls! A lot of my self image problem came from me. I used negative self talk to bring myself down. And that shit sucks. 

A lot of people have trouble with other people talking crap about them. Nothing anyone said could be worse than what I said to myself. Ever. When I talked to myself, I was never pretty, funny, smart, outgoing, or {insert any positive adjective here}. 

As self talk got worse, I felt worthless and feeling worthless only did terrible things for my body and health.


So then the question is: how did I fix it?

The answer is: I didn’t.

There’s no easy fix for crappy self image. But things changed for me when I started CrossFit. All of a sudden, I was a part of a community of people that admired strong legs and thighs that touched. Being strong is cool to them. So I work harder to be strong.


Will I ever be a size 00 and look like my adorable mom? No, probably not. I’m just not built to look that way. 


Can I work harder to be in shape and fit? Yes. I can. I can be healthy and healthy for me does not mean being a size 00. 


Everyday is different. Some days, I’m great with my progress and want to keep pushing. Other days are harder on me and it’s a struggle to suppress that negative voice. But everyday, it seems, I am able to keep that voice at bay a little bit longer and achieve a little more. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to suppress it for good.