5 reasons why I could never be a Tanner girl

It’s Friday. Which means 5 on Friday. And I usually use Fridays to kind of word vomit about all the things I wanted to talk about all week, but couldn’t because I just didn’t have enough to make a post.

Well that’s changing today, kids.

Growing up, I loved to watch Full House. It was SO cool. Like, every time Stephanie said “How rude!” and every time Michelle hit us with the, “you got it, dude” and every time DJ gave some really sensible and sisterly advice about life. Not to mention the fact that these girls are living in a house-in San Fransisco-with a morning show host for a dad, a musician for an uncle, and a lovable comedian for the other father figure. I was totes jealous.

Recently, Nick at Nite has been airing reruns of my good old favorite TV show (Jesus, am I so old that my fave shows are now on late night cable tv?!) and, of course, I’ve been watching it. And as an adult I realized:
I could never, ever been a Tanner girl.

And here’s why:

5. My parents would have killed me the FIRST time I drove a motor vehicle into the kitchen.
I don’t know about you, but I’ll never forget what I was doing when Stephanie reversed Joey’s brand new car straight through the kitchen window. And then, a few years later, DJ and Steve ended up putting a cement truck through the window, into the kitchen and FILLING THE KITCHEN WITH WET CEMENT. Somehow both of these situations ended with a hug from good old dad and everything was A-OK. 

4. I could never get away with calling my Daddy “dude”.
…or telling him “how rude!” he was, for that matter. My daddy is daddy or sir and that’s all there is to it. And as cute as that may have seemed when I was watching it at 6 years old…at 26, all I can think about is how saying any of that to my parents would have resulted in a swift slap and come to Jesus talk. 

3. All those DJ/Danny heart to heart talks.
Y’ALL. I canNOT get over how DJ talks to her dad! Yeah, yeah. I get it. He’s trying to figure out how to do the whole single parent thing. But let me catch myself telling Daddy Carlos how “unfair” something is…and he’ll figure out a way to show me just how unfair things can get. And the talking back? No. Just no.

2. The time DJ fell asleep at Steve’s apartment.
NO. First, there would be none of this creeping around where Danny tries to spy on DJ and Steve. If I wasn’t hope at curfew, my daddy was going to the apartment where he would proceed to bust the door down. With a shotgun in hand. With no time for, nor would he care about, an explaination about what happened. And grounded for a  month? Try “no one will ever see you again. Ever.” 

1. Kimmie Gibbler
Kimmie Gibbler was one disrespectful little girl, y’all. I guarantee if Brittany had ever talked to my parents the way Kimmie talked to DJ’s, I would have demanded that she leave. You just don’t talk to your elders like that! Additionally, even if I was blinded by the fact that she was my best friend, my parents would have, very politely, told her to get out and never come back.  And add on top of that, she had stinky feet? Nancy. Ain’t. Havin’. It.

And there you go. I am never gonna be a Tanner girl. Childhood dream dashed.
But I think being a Herrera girl is treating me pretty well, no?

Enjoy your weekend!

I don’t have my shit together.

I don’t have my shit together.
What?

I don’t. 
I want to. I want to wake up everyday and know exactly what my purpose is and what paths I’m supposed to take to achieve my goal of all goals.

But I don’t.
What I’m doing now is not what I thought I’d be doing 10 years ago. Hell, it’s not what I thought I’d be doing 10 minutes ago. 

And I don’t really know if anyone knows what the hell we’re actually doing. For me, I take one day at a time, I look at the decisions in front of me and I choose the ones that I think are going to point me in the right direction. 

Sometimes those decisions are as big as starting a new job or deciding whether or not to pursue another degree. Sometimes those decisions are as small as keeping my mouth shut when I don’t want to (although my friends would argue that this is a pretty monumental achievement for me).

Everyday, I make decisions and I just hope that they’re the right ones that will get me to where I want to go.
And if they don’t, I hope like hell I can change them. 

So here’s to not having my shit together, taking each day a decision at a time, crossing off to do lists, and moving back to Texas in exactly 4 months (!!!). 

My mom thinks I’m weird and other things on Friday





Another week come and gone! And the end of this week means the end of the CrossFit Open season (post about that to come on Monday).

So Mama Nancy thinks I’m weird. Through this blog, I’ve “met” a ton of people that I legit feel like I’m friends with in real life. We talk, email, text, facebook, and tweet each other like, all the time. I talk about them to other people like they’re real people (because they are, duh) but also like I’ve met them.

Mama Nancy: “so, you don’t think it’s weird-at all-that you’ve never met these people but you talk to them all the time?”

Me: “No.”

Mama Nancy: “Like, at all.”
Me: “Nope.”
Mama Nancy: “I really worry about you sometimes. It’s like you have imaginary friends-at 26.”

Me: “Except they’re real people, mom. I’m not making them up.”

Mama Nancy: “Sure they are.”

This is not weird, right? RIGHT?
(whatever, if you think it’s weird, just keep it to yourself. I like my friends)

Unrelated:
On Tuesday, I was walking on campus and ran into a group of “Christians” in Free Speech Alley who were screaming at students, calling them “sinners” and telling them that they were “destined for hell because they are impure and have not repented.” They picked me out as I passed and told me that I am a “harlot” (ouch), and “an abomination to God and a slap in the face of Jesus.”
Whoa.
First, not very Christian like, “Christians”.
Second, no one is perfect. Even if we try to live our lives in the most perfect of ways.
Third, I could have sworn one of the main lessons in the bible was “judge not lest ye be judged”, or are we not reading the same bible?



I smiled at that man and said, “bless your heart, I’m going to pray for you.” And that really pissed him off. He told me that God doesn’t hear my prayers because I’m a sinner. I said, “God hears everything.”

Lastly, he told me that I can’t be a follower of God because I believe in evolution and God followers can’t believe that dogs came from birds.
Um, right. Dogs can’t come from birds because…science?

The whole exchange just made me really sad. I know I usually don’t get into specific religious stuff in here, but I just can’t believe that God hates anyone. Or that any regular has the right to pass judgement on others.
My faith taught me better than that.

This week has been eventful to say the least.
I’m exhausted. 

Getting out of the dark place

If you’ve been doing Crossfit for a while, you know about the dark place. 
It’s the place that we all have to go sometimes.

You see the workout and you develop your strategy. 
3…2…1…GO.
And then everything goes to hell.
You lose all control of everything.
Your abandon all strategy and it’s a freakin’ free for all.

You start to panic.
Everything is going to shit and everything’s closing in around you.

That’s when you have to go to the dark place.
It’s different for everybody.

My dark place is quiet.
I can only hear myself and the non-sound of time running out.
I can’t really see anything but my weights.
Usually when I get to the dark place, I’m beating myself up.
“why didn’t you stay on pace?”
“why did you think this strategy would work?”
“what are you doing?”
“just stop.”

But after a few seconds, my voice calms down.
“just keep moving.”
“just keep moving.”
“move.”
“move.”
“don’t look at the clock.”
“move.”

My dark place is painful. Everything hurts there.
It hurts to breathe.
Hurts to move.
Hurts to bend.
Hurts to run.
Hurts to think.

“keep moving. keep fighting.”

TIME.
It’s over.
I’m out of the dark place.

Back to regularly scheduled programming.
Until my next visit.

Source: Jayde Quilty

American (Dating) Horror Stories

Bonnie at Life of Bon lives in Utah and is happily married (and expecting a baby!). But it wasn’t always like that. She had quite a few dating horror stories before she met the one. 

Well, guys, my whole dating career has been a damn Greek tragedy. I look back at it and think, “well, no good can come of this.” 


The last time I talked about my dating history it really turned out to be more of a list of the things I don’t want about a guy. But, for the sake of Bonnie’s link up, I’ve decided to narrow things down to the worst of the worst. This list is in no particular order. I’ll let y’all decide which one was the worst.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. And because, if you’re reading this…you know who you are.

The long-distance cheater: I totally loved this dude. Head over heels in love. I’d get in my car and drive 5 hours for him if he wanted me to (which I did. A lot. Like, every other weekend). I was completely sure that we were gonna get married and live happily ever after. Until I found out that he was spending the weekends with me and, um, discovering new prairies Monday-Friday. And everyone knew but me. Including family. Not awkward at all.

ouch.

The Age Out: I started dating this guy at 17 and he was 24. By accident. Dated until I was 19…and suddenly he was completely over me. And completely into a 17 year old girl. A year later, he was over her and into a different 17 year old girl. Y’all see where I’m going here.

The guy who was engaged (not to me): Started seeing a guy from my hometown and I was really digging him. Things were new but going well. I made plans to go home and visit him and we were both very excited about it…except when I got there, he made all kinds of excuses not to see me (what the eff?). I went out for drinks with some friends when they dropped the bomb, “Oh, you know [Insert Douchebag’s Name Here] met his fiancee through crossfit.” 
I’m sorry, what?
I found out he not only had a fiancee but also a child on the way. 
That revelation effectively ended any relationship I had with him, but I did jump right into a relationship with a lot of vodka that night.


Guy who was engaged (to me): Y’all remember that one time I was engaged? Me, too. That’s all I have to say about that.

Proof. Engaged once.

The little big man: Guy seemed to be nice enough. We knew each other in passing and he was cool. He was just barely taller than me, but into fitness and all that good stuff. We were hanging out pretty often at his request for awhile. I genuinely liked hanging out–and then one day he stopped calling for about 2 weeks. Me, being me, didn’t care. I just thought he wasn’t into me and let it go. He called near tears apologizing for being distant and begging me to forgive him, he claimed he was just “intimidated by the fact that I’ve been in serious relationships before” and that “he’s never been with a girl who’s as independent” as I am. Uh, okay? We went on one more date and that was it. He goes ghost again. 
About 3 months later, I got a text from him asking to hook up. 
Ha. No thanks, bro. It wasn’t all that to begin with. 


The guy who cried all the time: This was A date. Singular. One. Everything I said/did brought this guy to the brink of tears and occasionally sent him over the edge. Talk about bizarre. He brought up wildly controversial topics over dinner (you know, the ones they tell you that you shouldn’t discuss with people) and when I would respond with something like, “well, I don’t have an opinion on that because it doesn’t apply to me,” he would get inordinately upset and say things like “I can’t believe you’re so cold that you don’t care about others!” 
Whoa, bro. Dramatic much?


The “he loves me, he loves me not” guy: I could never tell with this guy. Some days, he loved me and wanted nothing more than to be with me. Other days, I didn’t exist at all. Spending even 10 seconds trying to figure out what dude wanted was a colossal waste of time. I don’t have even a second for your bipolar, yo.


The guy who told me to stop crossfitting: I was early in my CrossFit career when I developed my first callouses and I was damn proud of them (still am). I was on a first date with a guy who was trying to caress my hands across the table as we waited for our food when he felt my new callouses. 
He asked how I got them and I (very excitedly) said, “they’re new, I’ve been doing a lot of pullups and lifting.” 
He replied, “Oh, you have to stop that. It’s not very feminine.”
To which I got up, threw a $20 on the table for our bill and left. Douche.

they’re not even that bad!

Dating Disaster Level: Epic



One, Five, Ten

“Where do you see yourself in a year? Five years? Ten years?”

Recently, Bonnie over at The Life of Bon asked this question to her high school English classes. 

After thinking about it, you know what?I am not in any of the places I thought I would be when I was graduating high school. I don’t even know if I considered back then growing up to be the person I actually am.

Dance Team Banquet. Seniors. Front row, third from right. 

Senior prom. Yes, my flip phone is rhinestoned.

New York Dance Team trip. 

Senior Night with Brittany

One year
What I thought: I thought I’d be pre-med at LSU, loving it. Definitely getting straight A’s and loving going to the best party school in the country. I was going to have a ton of friends and probably a super hot boyfriend. And I was going to make the dean’s list for sure. I was also going to be super skinny and drinking allllll that beer was definitely NOT going to make me gain weight. Oh, and I was going to run a marathon. I think I actually wrote that down somewhere. Silly me.

I don’t know what was going on or why I’m not wearing shoes.

Before the weight gain happened…but you see what’s in my hand, right? It’s coming.

One year
Where I was: I did go to LSU and I did declare pre-med as my major…and hated every second of it. Making friends wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be and it felt like everything constantly reminded me that I wasn’t in Texas anymore. Thankfully, my next door neighbor and eventual roommate, Emily, helped me navigate the friends thing. There were a lot of all nighters where I called Mama Nancy crying, begging to come home. I also wanted to transfer to University of Texas-San Antonio because that’s where all my friends from high school went. I definitely missed out on the magic, “drink me and you won’t gain weight” beer because I drank the regular shit and gained a ton. And I didn’t run. Not one time, not one mile.

Know what this looks like? Bad decisions.

We may or may not have decided to jump on stage. At a bar. In the middle of someone’s musical performance.

Holly, Emily, Kelsey, Me, Tissy, Higgs, Blaum

When I still had little boobs.

Five years
What I thought: I would have totally graduated college and I’d have a super great job-to-career doing something I really loved for a lot of money. I’d probably be married already and working on starting a family. I’d be living back in Texas to be close to my parents. Obviously.

Crowning my successor.

Krissy Bug. Best friends for life.

Graduate. Finally.

5 yearsWhere I was: I was just graduating college with concentrations in 3 different, completely unrelated things. I was engaged to be married and working in property management managing apartments. I didn’t really have any idea what I wanted to do: did I want to continue in this career? Did I want to try something else? I had a brief flirtation with the idea of going to law school and took the LSAT. I did well, but I decided I didn’t hate myself enough to actually go to law school. Something told me to be a teacher, so I got my certification and started my teaching career at Istrouma High School (one of the best experiences of my life). I also realized how much weight I had gained and started trying to do something about it. 

10 yearsWhat I thought: I thought that by 28, I’d have shit together. I’d be way involved in my marriage. I’d have a kid or two. Or twelve. I’d own a house with a dog. I’d be a hospital’s chief of surgery by now (because everyone becomes a chief of surgery in like, 3 years, right?) and I’d volunteer on the weekends. I’d hang out with my mama and be busing my kids back and forth to whatever practice/birthday party/whatever.

8 years
Where I am: I haven’t made it to my 10 year yet (uh, 2 years away. WHAT?) but so far…I’m not all that close to what I thought. At all. I’m finishing my masters program in Kinesiology. The closest thing I have to a kid is Axl, who is the best kid EVER. I’m still teaching AND still working in property management and I’m working toward becoming a Marine Officer. I have good friends, I pay all my own bills, I have a great relationship with my parents and my tolerance for bullshit is pretty low. I like playing with other people’s kids and I hate laundry. Most days being a grown up sucks, but it’s pretty satisfying knowing that, as tiring as it can be, I get shit done. I still get carded buying beer and I’m okay with that. Oh, and I lost that freshman 40 from college. Finally.

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Me and the kid
Naturally I hang out with Mama Nancy

Where did you see yourself in a year, 5 years, 10 years from high school?
**PS: Athlete profiles on Saturdays will be BACK next week!

Whining and Bellyaching

“I don’t have time.”
“This is too hard.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m too weak.”
“I’m not in good enough shape yet.”
“It’s too time consuming.”
“I’m not on your level yet.”
“I want to lose weight, but it’s so difficult.”
“I love carbs too much.”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
This all comes down to wants and needs.
Simple economics.
Can you give up the things that you want for the things that you need?
I want to eat cheese enchiladas for every meal everyday and not get fat.
I want to lay in bed for my whole life and still be able to run miles and beat myself.
But I can’t.
It’s not what I need.
Can you not watch Real Housewives for an hour to use that hour at the gym?
Can you substitute spaghetti squash for pasta?
Can you give up the easy for the more difficult?
Can you get your ass off the comfortable couch and start finding the pavement more comfortable?
You can do all that shit. But will you?
What are you willing to give up to be more healthy?
Or are you good with just whining and bellyaching?
It’s time to stop “trying.”
Stop trying to run. Trying to start crossfit. Trying to eat clean.
Start running.
Start crossfitting.
Start eating clean.
Start focusing on health.
Start doing.