Monday Morning Gossip

Y’all already know that my weekends are completely ridiculous. I don’t have too much time to play with my friends because I’m always so busy…but when I have time to play and can schedule it, I play HARD.

So two months ago, my friend J tells us that she’s gonna be in New Orleans for the weekend of July 20th, we are thrilled. Beyond thrilled. I can’t think of a better reason to get drunk than because J is in town. AND THEN Hope tells us she’s coming to town, ON THE SAME WEEKEND.

Welp, that just means get out of body drunk. That’s normal, right?

Highlights of last weekend (only because I’m having trouble remembering all of last weekend)
-Eating dinner at Evangeline on Decatur. Steak was great.
-I had two fantastic beers, but I can’t remember what the hell kind of beer they were.
-J approved of my teaching style. Kids need a little more real.
-Kelly decided I could not teach her future kids. Too bad I’m still their aunt, though.
-Kristen and Carnell showed up to dinner an hour late. This is nothing new.
-We were the loudest ones in the entire restaurant. Also nothing new.
-J has good taste in friends.
-The walk to Bourbon street is far longer and more crowded than I remember.
-I still believe that the Horny Gator from Tropical Isle tastes better than the Hand Grenade.
-We walked. A lot.
-I rejoined the active Twitter world just to be rude and realized I should come back (@_eatpraywod or @petitzydeco2)
-The Trayvon Martin Rally for justice passed through. I appreciated the effort. I think it would have been more well served if half the people marching weren’t drinking/visibly drunk.
-We walked. More.
-I wondered what thought process encourages women to walk around with only fishnet tights on.
-I admired J and both of her friends for walking in heels all night. Wondered when I became so lazy.
-Saw Chanae’ and my old roommate Chincie. I missed them too much. TOO MUCH.
-Went to the east.
-Stayed up all night and helped my friends break in their new hookah.
-Drove back to Baton Rouge at 9 am
-Went to work, then passed out at 2:30 pm and slept until literally 7 this morning.

I would have more photos, but I’m completely sure that I had trouble using my phone after the first Horny Gator I had.

And I clearly haven’t lost my love for GIFs.
How was y’all’s weekend?
Sami's Shenanigans

"Don’t get too muscly"

When I tell people that I crossfit, the first question I am usually asked is, “what is crossfit?” 


I explain what crossfit is and the next comment I get is, “well, that’s cool. Just don’t get too muscly”

Then I get angry. And people don’t like me when I’m angry.
Sorry for all the cursing, but who is she or he or you or anyone to tell me what the hell to do with my body?! 

Don’t get me wrong, I am trying to be more fit. I am not trying to be the she-hulk (even though I think that would be the coolest thing pretty much ever). But with fitness comes muscles. Because physically fit people are strong. Duh. 

I am trying–and training–to be the most fit I can be. If for nothing else but the clearly inevitable zombie apocalypse. And for me, being fit, does not mean weighing 4 pounds, wearing size 0 million and not being able to lift a pencil without struggling. 

I want to lift things that are way heavier than me. Know why? Because that means–if I needed to–that I could lift my own body weight a bunch of times. I want to have a healthy body with all the right kinds of curves. I want to have an ass and not a butt. 

No one is going to convince me that a “thigh gap” or whatever is sexy if you look like a mosquito hawk. My thighs touch and that shit is great news. Why? Because if I’m ever trapped under something up to 2x my body weight, I can push that shit off of me. 

I don’t watch the scale. I don’t care what that piece of shit says and neither should you. It’s just a number. It’s your relationship with freakin’ gravity. The only thing I care about gravity is seeing how fast I can pick up whatever it’s holding down. Know what it isn’t gonna hold down? Me. That stupid scale can’t tell me how awesome I am or how far I’ve come. 

All I try to do everyday in the box is be better. 
Lift more.
Run faster.
Jump higher.
Get double unders (that shiz still hasn’t happened yet).
Be more fit.

My goal is not and never has been to be stick skinny. Because I can’t be. I am not built like that. I have and will forever have hips, thighs, boobs, and ass. So I had a decision: use what I got and make it tight…or look like a bag of mayonnaise and die in the zombie apocalypse. I chose the former. 

A lot of people I talk to want to be skinny and don’t want muscles. They want to run on the treadmill for 30191803 hours a day. They don’t want to lift weights because “it’ll make ’em bulky”.
If that is your goal, fine. 
Watch the scale.
Follow a crazy, 500 calorie a day diet
And be skinny fat.

I’ll be over here, feeding my muscles with steak and (sweet) potatoes.