First off, I would like to thank you all for reading my blog and actually liking it! The feedback has been amazing and I never expected such a response. I am very flattered and humbled. For those of you who actually didn’t like it. How can that be? Sucks to be you. Try harder.
Okay, so be warned that this is not a typical story-telling blog post to which you've become accustomed. Please bear with me as I still feel it’s important to get a few things off my chest. As I just said, the feedback has been incredible and I appreciate the support. I also appreciate those that are “looking out for me” and fear that I am not appreciating myself or that I am sabotaging my own good work. Well, I would encourage you to read. Aside from being a sarcastic bitch, this is what I do best, AND it's also part of the title of this blog so I’m not sure where I lost you in the first place. I laid it right out there for you. Work with me, peeps! Seriously though. I know you’re coming from a good place and I am thankful for that. Truly. I just don’t see it the way some of you do.
One of the earliest messages I got as a young girl was to fit in, be good enough and measure up. All my life I have worried about what people think of me. What will they think if I say that? What will they think if I wear that? Is my hair too short? Am I good enough to hang out with these people? Will they like me? Now that pictures of my fat ass are popping up all over the place (thank you Wildfire!), what will they say about me behind my back? Do they think I'm fat? Do they think I am fugly? Getting my point?
These thoughts were driving the bus for YEARS and I’m not going to lie to ya….I’m fucking exhausted!! Truth be told, I am finally at a point where I am actually beginning to care less about what other people think. If they want to talk, let them. I have no control over that, nor do I wish too. I know I have weight to lose, but I also know that my personality makes up for all of it! I'm kinda awesome, no? I have a freckles galore but I'll be damned if they don't give the illusion of tan in the summer which helps to make my already beautiful blue eyes POP! My short hair has gotten me stares in the women's bathroom more times then I can count (I'm in the right bathroom asshole. Check out my chest!) I am a loyal and trustworthy family member and friend and if you're my peep, I will have your back no. matter. what.! So, if my face makes my ass look big and you have a problem with the way I dress, talk, and show-up in the world, that's cool. Keep walking. I got this with or without you.
Now, of course I still have my moments but I have come VERY far! Hell, as an example, up until about a month ago I would see these pictures, cry, make the person who posted them take them down, and then eat a bowl of ice cream. Now I see these same pictures, cry until I laugh, put them up on my blog for all the world to see, and eat a bowl of ice cream. I can’t explain it, and I won’t attempt too, but it’s cathartic and healing for me. Despite people’s worrying, I DO love myself and I am NOT in an unhappy place. I thank you for your concern, but I ask that you fret no more. All is well in my world and I am doing what’s best for me. I have busted my ass to get to this point, I am proud of all my physical and mental strides, and this is my twisted, fucked-up, way of showing it. I love me some me, baby!! Let’s move on…
If you call me Fat Snatch, rest assured that I will bitch slap you with my arm fat! Consider this your warning. It’s similar to having a younger sibling. You can beat them up, harass them and kick them when they’re down. You’ve earned that right as a family member. However, if someone else were to beat them up, harass them and kick them when they were down, you’d kick that person’s ass! No way in hell that someone is going to do that to YOUR brother or sister! Same thing. I can call me Fat Snatch. You cannot. I invented Fat Snatch based off my belly and ass fat and the “Can’t Catch That Snatch” Ragnar team name. Invent your own, or, at the very least, get your own body fat!
Suggestions for a blog are always heard and appreciated (whether or not I decide to use them is another story), such as “Hey, have you thought about #FatSnatchSunbathing ?” That’s acceptable. “Hey, what’s up Fat Snatch? What’s your weight this week?” is not. We good? Good!
Thank you for your time. You may now get back to your regular scheduled programming and I will get some ideas together for an actual blog post. Ideas are welcomed.
Oh yeah. Turns out I lied. #FatSnatchDoingAnything is not going to work. I am not feeling having my blog be all about that snatch. It’s a work in progress. I appreciate your patience.
If you’re a loyal reader and kept up with all 3 of my blog posts, you will notice the #FatSnatch theme. This was not meant to happen. It was supposed to only be for the #FatSnatchRunning blog post, but, as time went on and more and more photos were surfacing of myself doing anything athletic, I noticed a theme. I’m still FAT! All of a sudden it dawned on me that I’m on to something. #FatSnatch can do more than just run! She can eat, compete (hence this post), skip, sing, dance…. the ideas are endless. So, if the idea of #FatSnatchDoingAnything doesn’t appeal to you, you might want to stop right here. As of now, I’m going for it!
You should also note that, due to the numerous award winning photos circulating around Facebook of myself, I had to narrow them down to only a select few favorites which will be sprinkled throughout. I do NOT, in any way, shape or form, encourage this look. These are purely for entertainment purposes only.
This past weekend was the “Fire & Ice” Crossfit competition that was hosted by my peeps at Wildfire. It was the first time they have ever hosted an event so I figured this was the best time to enter into my first competition. What better way then on home turf! I had briefly considered participating as an individual but my nerves got the best of me, so, when team “Guns and Buns” asked me to join them, I decided that was a more comfortable fit. This was not the pity ask that “Can’t Catch That Snatch” offered. This was the real deal. I was actually wanted on a team (this after being kicked off another because I didn’t meet the height requirements. Don’t worry guys, I’ve clearly let it go) so I went for it and I’m glad I did!
We were the most disFUNctional, disoriented, discombobulated team out there and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. This blog post wouldn’t exist without it. The “Gun” side of our team consisted of Rambo and Jackie Chan, and the “Bun” side of our team was yours truly, #FatSnatch, and simply, Bossysocks. One would think that this grouping of people would be a hot mess and I’m here to tell you….you’re right! HOT. MESS! Super fun, very competitive, and quite strong, but HO.LY HELL the behind the scenes (and some in front of the scenes) was a shit show which started (and ended) with my team shirt! Hey, Jackie, thanks so much for ordering mine in a MEN’S triple XL! I know I just got my haircut but I’m not auditioning for Lea DeLaria’s role in Orange is the New Black! Fuckin’ WildaDyke called. She wants her mumu back!!
* Special thanks to Savannah from Team Morning Wood for helping me reclaim a few ounces of my femininity. I would have went home if not for your genius with the hair tie! By the way…keep it classy with that team name, girl.
It must be said immediately that Bossysocks had a huge vocal role in making our team work. The title of “Bossysocks” fits. She knows it, I know it, anyone who knows her knows it, and that is one reason, amongst many, why she is loved so much. Passionate personality and rockin’ socks! Without her laying down the law we probably would have been disqualified for stupidity right out of the gate!
Picture it. Wildfire Crossfit. Phoenix, Arizona. Saturday morning, May 9th, 2015. We were just given an athlete briefing by The Godfather himself (see previous blog post) with regards to the first heat, “The Burden Run”. It was clearly explained that, as a team, we had 8 minutes to get as many reps as possible of Hang Cleans, Shoulders to Overhead, and a 100 meter run all while carrying a sandbag. To break it down further, one male and one female must complete 10 Hang Cleans EACH, with a sandbag, and then, AS A TEAM, you run the 100 meters. Two people carry the sandbag and the other person carries a member of the team. The team cannot start running until BOTH the male and female complete their Hang Cleans. When everyone is done, then you run the 100 meters as a team. When you get to the other end, the same rules apply only this time the movement is Shoulders to Overhead.
Now, granted, there were times when the MC’s voice sounded like a tween girl at a boy band concert, but it wasn’t that hard to figure out. So, whose team do you think had a member ask “So…uh…how many reps do we do? It’s 10 total? I can run and just meet you there when I’m done?” Yeah, exactly! And get me a Slurpee at the Quick Trip while you’re at it! Seriously!?!? Here I am wearing a fucking potato sack standing in what feels like the depths of hell, sun blazing in my face, with a slight case of swamp ass, so all I needed was to be given one reason to lose my shit and bitch slap someone! Thank God for Bossysocks though. Before I could raise my hand, she looked at him and simply said “SHUT. UP!….LISTEN TO ME…” Ah, music to my ears. It wasn’t so much as my allowing her to take over as it was that she just took over! Go girl! Bless Chan though. He just smiled, nodded and allowed her to re-explain everything we were just told. When she was done he says “So…uh…it’s 10 total reps or 10 each?” I love it but what I love even more was that when the timer started and I got a good 5-6 reps deep, feeling strong and fast and thin, I was gently reminded by B-Socks that I can stop doing Power Cleans and start doing the suggested move of Hang Clean; perhaps it’ll make us go faster. Sorry, team. That one was on me! But my right arm looks amazing, so there's that.
The second heat was slightly better. It was a Front Squat Ladder/1 Rep Max where each of us had to complete two front squats at the heaviest weight possible. The women have a combined 6 minutes to reach this weight, and then the men take over for their 6 minutes. I had not cleaned more than 95#’s. My front squat was about 125#’s but that was always from the rack, therefore, with having to clean it up first, I figured 95#'s to be my max. Well, that was not the case. My team kept loading up the bar, and, with the support of all of them, and our judge (who was a doll!), I maxed out at 115!! I shocked myself!! The real thank you, again, must go to Bossy and her “LIFT THE BAR, NOW!!” scary voice, equally scary expressions, tactic. I think the bar lifted itself because we were both tired of the verbal lashing! Thanks, B! Anyway, all was going well, then….
There was that moment of absolute chaos where we lady “Buns” were TRYING to be helpful with loading and unloading weight for the guys. The music was blaring, people were cheering, and all I could hear was nothing but all-out, straight-up NOISE! I could swear that one of the “Guns” told me to take the 25# weight off and put on a 5# weight. I’m no mathematician but that didn’t seem right. Rather than spend time trying to understand why he wanted this, I just did what I was told while under the watchful eye of my other “Bun”. Well, wouldn’t you know, apparently I was only supposed to ADD 5#’s and not remove anything. I’m scrambling to get the weight back on and, when I do, I cannot find the barbell collar to clip on the end to keep the weights in place. I’m frantically searching all the while terrified of what would happen to me if Bossy “Buns” looks over and sees that I am not ready! I look up and see about 10 people, including my twin #SnatchSister, pointing in random directions at where they deem to be the collar I’m looking for. Yes, please, by all means, POINT. IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS! I wouldn’t want you to actually SAY anything. With 2 minutes left on the clock, a game of Charades is EXACTLY what I had in mind! Needless to say, Bossysocks found the collar, I was tossed aside, the lift was completed and I was shamed into just wishing I were home with a doughnut, BUT, not before I took my rage out on Rambo.
What you see here is 25% “GO RAMBO!!! UPPPPP!!! YOU GOT THIS!!!” and 75% “I HATE YOU! I HATE MY LIFE! I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE! I DID NOT LOSE THAT COLLAR!!! HE TOLD ME TO TAKE THE WEIGHT OFF!!!” (For the record, I love Rambo!)
The third and final heat (shockingly we did not advance to a final round) was probably the best from a team perspective. From my own individual perspective….not so much.
It was a traditional Crossfit Chipper and I believe it was referred to as the “100 Club Countdown”. As a team we needed to complete as many rounds as possible in 14 minutes, of 100 Singles (jump rope), 80 Kettle Bell Swings, 60 Push-ups, 40 Burpees, 20 Deadlifts, 10 Cleans, 5 Snatches and 5 Pull-ups. The order that you start in is the order you must stay in. Only one athlete can work at a time and each athlete must complete at least one rep before switching to the next athlete. Only one person on our team can do pull-ups so it was imperative to be on point and stick to the game plan. I am proud to say that we did just that. I saw some video footage and I have to say that we looked fast, strong and like we had our shit together! Long gone were the days of heat one! We left it all out on the floor with very little mishaps. As a team, I was Impressed with a capital “I”!
As an individual, there were times when I flip-flopped between feeling like a pig at the wrong trough and a whale out of water! I started out of the gate by getting myself hog-tied in the rope a few times but it could have been from nerves. Or it could have been from my count being slightly different than the judge's count since I couldn’t hear anything. Or it could have been because I clearly heard my teammates inspiring me to hurry the hell up. Or it could have been because I was flat out exhausted from the whopping 14 minutes of work I put in between the first two heats. Or….all of the above. I don’t think I’ll ever know the reason. I just know it wasn’t pretty.
I will say that my form with the kettle bell swings was spot on. The push-ups weren’t too bad either. My boobs took the brunt of those but, hey, the bigger they are the softer they land so no worries there. I even felt pretty good on the Burpees. That was a short-lived, pleasant surprise. Leave it to a Facebook photo to quickly snatch away any moment of joy that may have existed. I knew my tent was flying up because I could feel the cool breeze on my belly button. What I didn’t know was how bad it actually looked. There is a vision in my head and then there is reality. Take my word for it. The pictures are out there but I’ll be damned if I am going to help you find them.
Finally, we have the cleans. I typically feel pretty good with these, but again, since I have such amazing friends who feel the need to show me how awesome I am via photographic evidence, I was able to notice a few areas that could use some improvement. First, suck in my gut (also known in the athletic community as “engaging my core”) second, don’t choke myself, and third, breathe! Please refer to the visual below. I believe what’s happening here is that I am asking my judge, while holding my breath, “Now does this rep count? Can it? Please? Can’t. Go. Any. Higher.”
Alas, all good things must come to an end. I burned my shirt in the fire pit, and I’m laugh-crying at the photos splashed all over the web. Our team definitely made for some interesting water cooler chat but I am proud of us. With all of our very different quirky personality traits, strengths, weaknesses and listening abilities, we managed to pull together as a TEAM and had a blast doing so. Hands in, Team “Guns and Buns!”
I do have to be serious for a moment though. Wildfire totally nailed this competition! If I hadn’t already known this was their first time as a host, I wouldn’t have believed it. The energy and organization was off the charts! I mean take a look at this photo from before the day started. My OCD is in love!
Look at the turnout!!
I feel so blessed to have been able to take part as an athlete. To every single person who helped make this event a success, THANK YOU!! From the judges, to the organizers, to the girly MC, everyone…. GREAT JOB!
Wildfire epitomizes class, integrity, teamwork, community and family! That’s why I will forever stand by my claim that my box IS better than yours!
This is a classic line in the 1985 hit movie "Better Off Dead" and it's apparently become the story of my life, at least as it pertains to the last month. If you have never seen it, check out this 4+ minute clip:
I thought Lane had it bad with the paperboy, but he never suffered at the hands of an East Coast asshole who bullies petite, young, delicate wallflowers like myself. Lane got harassed by some underage tool on a bicycle; I've got an overaged tool trying to live out his dream of being a real-life Tony Soprano! Don't get me wrong. I, too, am an East Coast asshole with tool-like tendencies, but you can't bounce a quarter off my ass cheeks like you can his. That's primarily what separates us.
What happened was that he took it upon himself to purchase tickets to yet another running event. While that was fanfreakintastic of him to take the bull by the horns, a little heads up would have been nice. Instead I get a Facebook message to "Pay Up!!" (he even spelled it correctly) or I'm not sleeping in the tent. I was initially excited because that meant that he found a tent big enough to fit me, but then it occurred to me that maybe I'd be better off crying poverty so that I won't have to run again. That was my plan, and I was about to stick to it, until he started showing up on the regular. I never see this dude unless it's on a Friday morning and then all of a sudden he's popping up on a Wednesday. Then a Thursday. Staring at my backside longingly (just because I'm a lesbian does not mean I have my wallet back there, Buddy!); leaving "sleep with one eye open" notes on my windshield; walking by and "mooooo"ing at me while making the Johnny Football cash sign. You know the one....
The man makes about $62 million a year and he can't give a sister a week to come up with $135? That's money for my Dove Bars, Bitch! Anyway....I came up with the dough, handed him a check and was met with "this better not bounce!" Jesus! Go back to Jersey and "keep the change, ya filthy animal!"
I finally got him off my back and could breathe a sigh of relief when, all of a sudden, I found myself asking him for a favor! What is WRONG with me!!??? It's not like I bumped into him and got nervous and had the favor pop out of my mouth either. No. I went out of my way to contact Goodfella and asked him if he wouldn't mind purchasing tickets to another event for me. Between running and dabbling in dough with The Godfather, I must have a death wish!
As always, he didn't disappoint. Crazy came through with the purchase of the tickets and with a casual side of the"PAY UP VACCA!" thinly veiled threatening exclamation points. So now I just need to be more than 80% sure I have the check available (fingers crossed this doesn't end up being the one that bounces) to give to him with a wink and a smile. However, if that wink and smile fails to come to fruition in a timely manner for some reason, here's a hint for you Mayweather: FOOD! Threaten to take it away. There's a good possibility you might get your money faster. Just suggestin'.
Very quickly, before I make my way into hiding, it should be noted that I consider this darling man my friend. Don't you wish you could all be my friends in light of all the lovely adjectives I came up with? Gotta earn them. He did.
* Side effects of writing this post include, but is not limited to, excessive diarrhea from fear of what happens next; nausea at the thought of losing this friendship/connection and headaches caused by excessive worry of being without food.