I tasted heaven today. Mind you, heaven tastes different every day depending upon what my tastebuds are craving and whether I'm getting to indulge or not, but let me explain what today's heaven consisted of. And please remember, I am shoveling in whatever goodies I can before Sean gets complete control over what goes into my mouth.

Reese's Nutrageous bar. That was heaven at about 4:37 p.m. today. Yep. Gooey caramel, yummy milk chocolate, creamy peanut butter, and crunchy peanuts. Okay, I sound like a commercial for Reese's. Hey...are they hiring? Lol! But yeah...that was heaven. And it lasted for a good eleven or twelve minutes, but as you can see, the memory still remains...until the next crave attack comes along and promises another bout with another piece of heaven (pecan pie sounds good).

It sounds awful, I know. I've been eating pretty badly, but here's the thing; my weight hasn't changed in four days of me eating what I want. So either my body needs this desperately, or Amanda's scale is broken. I'm seriously hoping it's the former. Besides, I know that Sean will be delivering a diet my way via e-mail, and I'll have plenty of weeks of eating very clean, so I figure why not get it out of my system and enjoy myself so I don't get burned out when April, May, June, and the rest of the summer months come creeping by.

I plan on doing three national shows this summer. I'll be sure to let y'all know which ones and where they're located and what the dates are. They are on both coasts and in the middle, so I expect to see some of y'all in the audience, cheering my name like they did in Rocky. Okay...maybe not quite like that. I'm nowhere near a Sylvester Stallone. My voice isn't quite that deep and I have a prettier waist that he does, and my mean punch would land...well, I'm not sure where it would land. My hand-eye coordination royally sucks. Royally! I'm not kidding. I get it from my mom. She would get mad at my father and would try throwing rocks his way, but he didn't worry because the rock would end up flying by about a yard or two out of the vicinity of where he was standing.

I don't know how I go off on these tangents. But this is how my brain works. It's why I'm so scatterbrained. Actually, my excuse is that I have too much information cluttering my mind and my files are overflowing, so that's why I can't find the topics and memories I need at the time I need them. Yeah, right. Lol! But it sounds good!

Ohhh...I remember now what I wanted to talk about today. I was asked in one of the responses to an earlier journal entry this week (seeeee...I do read those things) why I need a trainer. Yes. I am certified and can train myself, and quite honestly, if I weren't competing and were just doing photo shoots, that's exactly what I would do. But when a competitor is preparing for a show, that competitor is not able to objectively examine her own physique and state emphatically and decisively what is needed in order to bring down the legs, tighten the abdomen, gain size in the back and shoulders, and have enough energy to make it through the day. Look at this way. Emmitt Smith of the Cowboys needs a coach. Yes, he knows how to play the running back position, but having a coach to bring an outside expertise is very useful. It's the same with a doctor. A doctor wouldn't diagnose and operate on herself, now would she? And we've all seen movies where lawyers defend themselves. Major, major mess!

This just takes a huge weight off of my shoulders. I have many things I want to accomplish this year, including starting my own tutoring business little by little, so if I can pass the responsibility of the details and grunt work of refining the diet and workouts I need to do to make my body the best it can be for this year's shows, then I'm more than willing to do it. I'll be totally frank with y'all. When I do try to train myself for a show on my own, I second guess myself. I may have the week's workouts printed out and my meals listed in minute detail, but every morning I wake up and go, what if. There's a Shel Silverstein poem entitled "What If" and that's exactly how I am all the time. That's just too much unnecessary stress on this little girl.

Sean is actually on trial basis for the month of February, but I have a good, gut feeling about this decision of mine. I'll let you in on a secret...I wasn't 100 percent certain about the move to California. If I had listened to my gut, I would have saved a lot of time and money. Then again...everything does happen for a reason, and I went into it knowing that I was a bit unsure. But I remember talking with Amanda the evening I made the decision, and she knows me very well, and when she said, "Well, I can see your mind is already made up, so you may as well tell him yes and see how it goes," I knew I had indeed made the decision.

You know what really steered me towards him? The fact that he is only training four people at the national and pro level. I'm a needy girl, but most importantly, I feel like I truly will get individualized attention, which is exactly what I'm looking for. Yep...that was the sticking point that drew me to Sean. Oh yeah...and I talked with Marcy Porter, IFBB pro figure competitor, and she verified that he would live up to my expectations and do right by me.

I will definitely keep y'all updated and discuss the training differences I see from Mike's ideas to my ex husband's ideas (mind you, we fought constantly, for I didn't agree with much of what he had me do, but I had already put my faith and trust in him and thus chose to stick with it for the long haul) to Sean's ideas. It will be interesting!

Okay...so what's on the agenda for this evening? An intense back routine with Amanda. (We did shoulders yesterday, and I pressed 30-pound dumbbells, which was my goal. I also got up to the 25-pound dumbbells when doing seated front lateral raises. And I can't forget about doing the 25-pound dumbbells for side lateral raises, supersetted with the 10-pound dumbbells for an extra burn. Yowza! Ouch!) Like I said, an intense back workout, a nice shower, and an evening in front of the boob tube (my dad's old expression for the television set...don't ask). Amanda has me hooked on Lifetime. Yep...my evenings are spent with a three-pound toy Yorkie lounging in my lap, a 60-pound Labrador trying to lick my bare feet and clothes and whatever else she can imagine as a food source, and some movie about a scorned woman getting revenge on her ex-lover(s)...the plot is always the same, the heroine just has different colored hair and a different name. This is not the way to finding me a date, Amanda!!!! Grrr! Lol! I'm just kiddin'! I'm loving the single life right now. Just me, myself, and I.

On that note, me, myself, and I are going to go watch and laugh at American Idol and think up a back routine. Any suggestions?

Jodi