Inspiration can be a Fickle Asshole

After an extended hiatus from writing, I have finally decided to return to the craft. I must explain that my inspiration seemed to have walked out on me. This included my inspiration for strict eating, working out and writing. This thing called inspiration heartbreakingly dumped me just like Brad dumped Jen. Perhaps someone else needed my inspiration more than I did, and I guess if I look at it like that, it doesn’t seem so bad.

Before you go and give yourself a brain aneurysm, NO I did not start on a diet which only consisted of chocolate cake with a side of churros, and my only form of exercise was NOT walking from the couch to the kitchen with the occasional saunter to the bathroom. While it may be true that the asshole called inspiration did leave me, I still did it without that bastard. Side note, it makes it more fun to blame something when you imagine it is a physical being. In case anyone is unclear, I am referring to inspiration as a person in order to scapegoat. I must admit that it is quite difficult to force yourself to do something day in and day out when you no longer feel motivated, but rest assured that it can be done. So I worked out but I took the occasional day off which was previously unheard of. And I ate. Not cray cray ate, but I ate…and drank. Cake, pasta, fries, pizza, and the inside of a canolli once. Funny story, my brother saw the canolli shell and got all excited that there was one left only to realize that some sneaky devil had eaten all of the cream inside. I am said sneaky devil. I didn’t intend for it to happen though. At first, I just wanted a taste of the cream and then one thing led to another and I thought I couldn’t possibly live with myself if I ate both the shell and the cream.  So in the end, I left the shell on the off-chance that some poor bastard might be canolli hungry enough to feel satisfied with the shell alone. If you find this behaviour odd, I assure you that my oddness extends to every aspect of my life. After all, I am the bright spark who literally screamed at the sight of my own shadow and then proceeded to attempt an acrobatic evasive manoeuver to avoid the perceived danger…yesterday.

Enter the present. I have begun to restrict the junk once more as something big is coming. I have been humming and hawing for weeks when it came to deciding whether or not I would compete on May 10th. It was probably 3 or 4 days ago that I finally made the decision. This is a risky move as my diet has been less than stellar however the judges didn’t seem to like me when I was super strict so what have I got to lose. Maybe those judges might be bamboozled by me this time and end up giving me a trophy despite my non strict behaviours! Wouldn’t that be a fun little prank?

I feel like I am in a different mindset going into this show. I suffer no delusions this time. It must be noted that what one considers to be a winning physique might end up not being rewarded simply because of the opinion of those “special” people who sit in the front row. Whatever happens will happen and I want to get back to loving the process. Yesterday, I was giving it some serious thought while I was supposed to be working and realized that most of all I just can’t wait to get on stage and have everyone look at me. Screw the trophy. I love what I will be presenting to the audience and that is all that matters. Yeah, it sucks to lose but how can you lose when you love yourself? Oh boy,I sound super cheesy but it is how I feel. If you had any doubt, you can just peruse my self-indulgent instagram account to see for yourself. Instagram is a platform perfect for the egotist, narcissist or exhibitionist. Have I become all of the above? Maybe it isn’t so bad to find your inner egotist because I can assure you that self love is much sweeter than self hate.

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