I want to begin today’s entry with a huge congratulations to Dina al Sabah for her recent win in the pro figure division at the Jan Tana. Definitely visit her site and extend your own accolades. She has finally qualified for the Olympia and is quite deserving of it! She has been a consistent support base for me this year, and I’m sooo proud of her.

Okay, now on to me. I’m not an only child or anything! I thought I would take y’all back to the day that I traveled to New York for the Figure Nationals, so you could traipse along the same path I took towards my top-five finish.

The chaos had actually begun on the Wednesday before the show. Three days’ worth of food had to be prepared and packed into the cooler, for I would be traveling to New York on Thursday, preparing for the show on Friday, and standing on stage on Saturday, and I couldn’t stray from the diet. With each meal consisting of either egg whites, steak, chicken, turkey, fish, or protein powder, you can just imagine the mess I made in the kitchen. So, 120 cooked egg whites, two pounds of chicken, one pound of turkey, half a pound of fish, and a bag full of protein powder later (I haven’t even begun to discuss the ordeal of packaging the oats, the baking potatoes, and the yams), I was finally ready to collapse into bed at about two in the morning. My mother was arriving only six hours later to cart both me and my multitude of bags to the airport to catch a 10 a.m. flight.

Now, I’m grateful to Tim Gravens and Steven Elliott Hendrix—two photographers whom I work closely with—for picking up the tab on my flight arrangements, but I ended up traveling via Air Tran Airways (no it’s not the same as ATA, as I was soon to discover) and had a connection in Atlanta. So, remember the five million pounds of food that I had stuffed into the cooler in the wee hours of the morning? Yeah, it was going to sit in that cooler for the majority of the day. I was on my knees praying that the dozen or so ice packs would keep the food cold enough until I could convince the New York hotel manager that I needed a refrigerator much more than the 260-pound bodybuilder who was also carrying five tons of food with him (I succeeded in this, by the way).

But I stray from the topic. I wasn’t ready on time for my mother. Surprise, surprise. One of my biggest flaws is that I run late. Everywhere! I had actually overslept. Likely excuse, I know, but I had turned the alarm off when I had meant to simply slam the snooze button, and thus, I had lost an hour that I needed to do the last minute things (like pack). Suffice it to say, I was in a panic. Then, when we couldn’t figure out which terminal the flight was departing from, my mother fell into a panic. And when an entire family cut in front of me in the line and later the security guard began searching my luggage and re-arranging (i.e., making a mess of) my clothes and shoes, I continued to panic. And when I rushed to the gate, desperate for a bathroom (you try drinking a gallon of water in just three hours and then see if you can make it through a two-hour flight) and finding the women’s restroom closed for cleaning (they sure do have awesome timing, huh?), I had to make an impromptu decision. Suffer or sneak into the men’s restroom. You guessed it. I have no shame. I rushed into the men’s room, did my thing, came out, and began washing my hands. A very perplexed look spread across the face of the man next to me. He turned to me and said, “I could have sworn this was the men’s room.” I nodded and stated, “Yes, you’re correct.” And I hightailed it out of there.

Can you believe all of this occurred before I even took my first step onto the plane? My anxiety level only rose after that. Remember the cooler with the tonnage of food? Well, it wouldn’t fit in the luggage compartments above the seats, and it wouldn’t fit under the seat no matter how much I shoved, pushed, grunted, and pleaded with the stubborn object. And the stewardesses began to lecture me about having objects obstructing leg space. I tried to explain that I didn’t need leg space. I’m 4’11” after all. I practically have no legs. Just kidding. The argument didn’t work with them, so after a few more grunts, shoves, and pushes, I finally got the cooler stuffed under the seat in front of me, and with sweat now pouring down my back in the heat of the airplane (did I mention that I was leaving 103 degree weather in Texas?) I was ready for take off.

Once in Atlanta, I had the luxury of snacking on cold fish while the scent of greasy fries and even greasier cheesesteak sandwiches wafted through the air. I was miserable. To make things even worse, when I got onto the connecting flight, I had to go through the cooler ordeal all over again. I’m pretty sure my blood pressure was off the charts at that point. And as if that wasn’t enough, I also lost my driver’s license. Well, I actually misplaced it. But I wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason and instead decided to freak out about that little incident rather than shuffle through bags to try to find the darned card (why do they make those things so flimsy and tiny?).

So, three hours and several anxiety attacks later, I finally arrived into New York’s lovely and peaceful La Gaurdia airport. And that is where I will leave you for now.

Just know that I’ve been enjoying yummy food and lots of rest and relaxation. Of course, I’ll be back to doing cardio and weight training this week so I can undo some of the damage I’ve caused to my body with the chocolates, ice cream, and cheeseburgers I’ve been munching on.

Enjoy the start to your week!