Full disclosure. I will admit that I smoked marijuana twice, a fact that shames me to this day. Prior to that first time, I was proud to say that I had never used any drugs. I had made it all through my New York City public high school without one puff or pill. I got called all kinds of names by so-called friends. I just wasn’t interested in trying drugs.  Yet, in college, my boyfriend somehow convinced me into it – twice. And, yes, I inhaled – twice. I consider it a smudge in an otherwise perfect record. (Oh, well.) I say all this to say that being “drug free” has always been important to me. When I started lifting in the 80s I was often asked what drugs I did. It’s not that my muscles were so big by today’s standards, it was just that it was so unusual to see them on a girl. It was more acceptable to have flabby arms than well-defined deltoids. The stares you got in and out of the gym for having biceps were not always appreciative. Nowadays, they think you’re a personal trainer. Then, they thought you were a freak. ​ But I loved the muscles I developed in the gym. I loved the whole aesthetics of it. As far as I was concerned, muscles only enhanced my femininity. So popular or not, stares or not, I continued lifting. I brought the weights up and I brought the weight down. Again and again. I packed on as much muscle as my body allowed. That is, the amount allowed naturally. And when asked what drugs I took, I replied truthfully: caffeine and alcohol. Mostly caffeine. ​ I had some wonderful early role models of female bodybuilders. Gladys Portuguese and Carla Dunlap were some of my favorites. You look at their pictures now and they don’t seem so big. They probably were just a shade bigger than Jane Fonda was in the 80s. Still, they were revolutionary. Those early female bodybuilders were my aspirational role models. As the sport evolved, though, subsequent female bodybuilders became more and more and more muscular. Suddenly, when asked why I had so much muscle, I had to explain that I was a bodybuilder AND that I was natural. And proudly natural I have remained. ​ It is human nature for an athlete to push the envelope. That’s what makes them an athlete.  And I kinda understand the desire of an athlete to reach for drugs to “fine-tune” their hard work. I just don’t agree with it. Regardless of the sport, it’s a cheat. Plain and simple. To me, the beauty of bodybuilding is seeing how much you can push your body. How close you can get to the ideal. What you can create. Your creation. Yours alone. Solely through your arduous effort. What accomplishment is there if you use drugs to achieve it? How do you celebrate a goal that you know isn’t all yours? I don’t get it. Never will. Natty till I die.

It’s Monday morning and the alarm goes off.  My eyes squeeze shut as I realize it’s time for the weekly weigh-in. So tempting to sink back into oblivion. Pretend it’s still Sunday and I can lay under the duvet a little longer. I turn my head over to the cool side of the pillow. I try to force back into my last pleasant dream but the alarm won’t shut up.  It’s time to wake up and the day can’t be avoided. ​ My eyelids flutter and I wake up but stay laying on my back.  My fingers press in to define my stomach muscles. I pinch the fat around the sides.  Am I pinching more or less than last week? Can’t tell. ​ I pull the covers away and lift my thighs to the half-light. Is there more or less definition than last week? Can’t tell. ​ I push myself to a sitting position at the edge of the bed stretching my muscles. Trying to see if I am properly sore from yesterday’s workout or if I should have gone harder.  I’m taking my time and I know it. I'm delaying the time when I’ll have to step on the scale. ​ I stumble into the bathroom and pee first (just in case it makes a difference).  I stare at the white bathroom scale laying in the corner. Will you be friend or will you be foe? I hesitate because I know it determines not only my mood but also my week. I lose weight, I get to keep my workout and food the same. But if I don’t lose weight … ughhh. I am in for more cardio and more restricted foods. ​ I pass by the scale without a look and wash my face. Wretched scale. I gargle with mouthwash and brush my teeth while giving it a sideways glance. Detestable scale. I put on eyeliner. I brush on mascara. Accursed scale. That damn white scale with the non-slip surface. (Why non-slip? Do people actually slip while getting on a scale? Or do they just faint away when they look at the number?) ​ No use waiting. It’s got to be done. So I step gingerly on the scale, thinking of butterflies, balloons, anything light and airy. I plant my feet flat, say a prayer and gaze down. The digital bar dances around the display screen and I’m still holding my breath. (Maybe I should stop holding my breath? Does holding my breath increase or decrease my weight? Every ounce counts.) ​ Finally, the bar stops its dance and settles in. An error message? Really? ​ Off the scale again. And back on again. In the seconds before the final revelation, I visualize my future. The joy of the “Yes!” When the number is good. The deflation of my very soul when the number is bad. ​ The digital bar does its interminable dance all over again. ​ Good week?  Bad week? ​ Come on. Don’t tease me. ​ Will you be friend or will you be foe?

Having been pregnant twice, I am well versed in the three trimesters of pregnancy. And having entered 30+ competitions in the past 30+ years, I am also quite knowledgeable in the three trimesters of training. Because believe me or not, they are highly correlated. The only difference? In pregnancy, each trimester involves 3 months; in training, each trimester is a mere 3 weeks. ​ [Note: I usually start thinking I can do a 12-week prep for competition then need to extend the time when I realize there is no way I’ll be ready in 12 weeks. But for the ease of comparison, I’m gonna say 12 weeks.] ​ First Trimester ​ Pregnancy:  The stick turns blue and all of a sudden, you need to change into a different person. No drinking. No partying late into the night. No hanging out with your smoker friends. And a hypervigilance about everything you put into your body. ​ Prep: You pick a competition date and all of a sudden you need to change into a different person. No drinking. No partying late into the night. No hanging out with your smoker friends. And a hypervigilance about everything you put into your body. Pregnancy: You only tell your closest friends about the pregnancy. Just in case. Prep: You only tell your closest friends about the competition. Just in case. ​ Second Trimester ​ The best trimester ever. ​ Pregnancy: Your body is changing and you can no longer hide the changes of your body. The deprivations of the first semester are now second nature. People admire your round belly. Life is good. ​ Prep: Your body is changing and you no longer hide the changes of your body. The deprivations of the first semester are now second nature. People admire your flat belly. Life is good. Pregnancy: Strangers stop to ask how far along you are. ​ Prep: Strangers stop to ask you if you’re a personal trainer. ​ Third Trimester ​ Pregnancy: Things are becoming a grind.  Your world has been consumed by the same thing day after day. The joyful flush of the second trimester is gone. You obsessively count down to your due date. It can’t come soon enough. ​ Prep: Things are becoming a grind.  Your world has been consumed by the same thing day after day. The joyful flush of the second trimester is gone. You obsessively count down to your competition date. It can’t come soon enough. Pregnancy: You’re looking forward to getting back to your usual weight. Everything you wear is tight in all the wrong places. Prep: You’re looking forward to getting back to your usual weight. Everything you wear is loose in all the wrong places. Pregnancy: Bras don’t fit. Prep: Bras don’t fit. ​ Finally, the Day is Here! ​ Pregnancy: The day is finally here. You are so excited at the same time as you are so spent. You want it over with and yet you don’t. ​ Prep: The day is finally here. You are so excited at the same time as you are so spent. You want it over with and yet you don’t. Pregnancy: At the end of all your arduous efforts, you get a gift (a baby). Prep: At the end of all your arduous efforts, you get a gift (a trophy). ​ See? Same thing, right?

Competition prep can be hard for a female athlete because the changes to the body are so incrementally small.  It is hard to remain focused and motivated when each day is composed of 16-18 hours awake hoping to see even a small bit of progress.  You need something – anything - to keep you going. ​ But no worries. There are many ways to tell that you’re getting close to your competition weight. Things that tell you that all the deprivation is actually working. That your body really is changing.  And none of them require stepping on that cold unforgiving scale. ​ Here are just a few: ​ Butt Dents If the song “Baby Got Back” was written about you, seeing indentations on the sides of the buttocks tells you you’re on the right track. ​ On the flip side, you know when you’re back to your post-competition body when your butt “pops” back into Bootylicious mode. ​ Boob Scales Breasts are made of fat so they quickly deflate when fat goes down which makes the “boob scale” a great measure of progress. Here’s how it work: If you can hold a pencil under each boob and bounce up and down without it falling, you are reaching your goal. If you can hold a magic marker under them, you’ve hit the mark! ​ Unfortunately, this is a double-edged sword. The flatter your boobs, the less of a girl you feel. Thank goodness for padded bras – and plastic surgery! ​ Bye Bye Bleed The normal body fat for a non-athletic female is between 22-28 percent. But with intense training and dieting, when you reach a body fat of less than 12 percent, there goes your period. No period. No problem. You’re not pregnant; you’re competing! ​ Now don’t crumble on the bathroom floor in tears if your period comes after 2 months of dieting (like I’ve done in the past). Just keep plugging away and soon it will be long gone. ​ Man Veins You don’t need a pump to see the veins on your forearms. They trail down your arm ripe and plump at all times- no gym required. They remind you of the freeway map of Florida. They are a phlebotomist’s dream and a vampire’s ecstasy. ​ Clown Pants At first your pants swoosh around your thinning thighs. The material swims around your legs with every step. The pants fit – but barely. But as your size decreases, the more the pants start to balloon and your hips can no longer keep them up. Suddenly you’re wearing “Clown Pants”. Your pants hang low like a hip-hop wannabe. ​ This is not the time to be cheap. Don’t go to Walmart in search for suspenders to keep your pants up. It’s futile. Nobody wears suspenders anymore. Time to get another wardrobe for your diminishing size - or learn to love stretchy pants. ​ Skeleton Face Your cheeks are sunken. Your face is drawn. Acquaintances believe you’re under medical treatment for a chronic condition. Yay. You’re ready for the stage! ​ Yes, the stage is calling. And it’ll be here before you expect it. So smile and enjoy the experience. Every torturous minute of it!

Restaurants – They don’t care about your health. They don’t want you to live long. They just want you to live long enough to come back. If you are eating out, you are guaranteed to be taking in more fat, salt and sugar – sometimes all at once and all in a gut-busting amount of calories. It takes a lot of energy and education to eat a healthy meal out. A simple salad can have more fat than a hamburger. And how are you to know? And even if you manage to get something that is lower in fat, getting something low(er) in salt is impossible. After all, no respectable cook will make anything without salt. Gyms – They are perfectly happy taking your money month after month despite the fact that you never use it. Each January, the regular crowd of gym-goers endure the (temporary) influx of new gym members. But it need only be endured for a short time. We know full well that by the time February ends, you will no longer be in our parking spots or taking up our machines. But the gym will continue drawing your money. ​ Health Insurances – Don’t believe the ads that say they care about you and your family’s health. They are for-profit for a reason. They only care about their shareholders – and that is not you. If they do act like they care about your health, it is because it helps their bottom line. HMO? PPO? POS? Deductible? Copay? Coinsurance? This is what I do for a living and I barely understand my own health insurance. ​ Banks – Really? Do I need to explain this one? Banks take your money, invest it in the stock market and make more money. So why leave your money in the bank? Stop giving them your savings so they can make more money and offer you nothing in return. Learn the basics of investing and put your money in a mutual fund instead. ​ Food Companies – They put their lies right on their food labels. Don’t believe them. Gluten-free popcorn? All popcorn is naturally gluten-free. Lower salt ketchup? Still with way too much salt; lower is not the same as low. They are downright deceptive and it is difficult to cut through their BS. Instead, read “Nutrition Action”, the health letter from CSPI, a nonprofit organization devoted to truthful information on the foods we eat. Their articles on falsehoods in labeling and advertising are eye-opening. ​ Yourself? – Stop calling yourself stupid, fat, ugly, or any other negative word. Stop concentrating on your deficiencies and all the ways you do not measure up. Stop looking back at your past and all the things you did that you can no longer change. Stop being your own greatest enemy. The world is hard enough without you standing in front of a mirror circling all the parts you hate. In a world full of things that don’t love you, this is the one you can control. The one you should control. Of all the things that don’t love you, you should be the one thing that does. Unconditionally. Flaws and all.

Gum. Gum. Gum. ​ I chew gum all prep long because it satisfies my desire to chew. I break the stick in half and chew it until the burst of sweet is gone and then I throw it away and quickly place the second half in my mouth. All day long. It makes me feel like I’m eating without the added calories. But is that true? ​ My beloved Trident gum states that each stick has less than 5 calories. It does NOT say it has NO calories.  So let’s do some math. ​ I figure I have about a pack of gum a day on the conservative side. That’s 14 sticks or 28 half-sticks each day.  So let’s say each stick is 4 calories (4 is less than 5, right?). That makes 56 calories each day on non-nutritive gum. Something that does not give me the energy boost of carbs or the muscle building benefits of proteins. It doesn’t even give me the regular BMs of vegetables. So why? ​ All this math is giving me a headache. And my stomach grumbles. ​ I’ll think about it more tomorrow. ​ Now where is that Trident?

What do competitors dream of during all those weeks of strict dieting? What do they obsess about after weeks of deprivation? ​ During the 2022 PA Classic in Allentown, PA held on July 30th, the bikini, figure, and physique competitors shared their food dreams. Cheeseburger with bacon and fries and a glass of wine. - Dana M. Nina’s Capuccino Waffle and Chocolate Stuffed Waffle. Cannoli Cheesecake Cookie. – Angelina F. Anything from Vegan Treats Bakery in Bethlehem PA. Mushroom Stroganoff - Jasmyn D. Pizza (any kind). Alexa H. Cold peppermint Patties (must be cold!). - Sidney P. Burger with BBQ sauce, French fries with ketchup and pulled pork nachos at Bell Hall Restaurant in Allentown. - Sarah B. Oreo Blizzard from Dairy Queen. Chicken sandwich with French fries and Mac and cheese from Chik-Fil-A. - Dara V Egg white omelet with piles of chicken and spinach or a Margherita pizza. - Susan W. Big Mac with French fries and water. Strawberry margarita with salt rim. - Jennifer S. Mini Monster Cookie from PDX Cookie Company - Ashley F Classic original Auntie Anne’s pretzel (currently being warmed in the bag). Bagel Mania Salt bagel with original cream cheese. - Andrea H Spicy tuna roll from Gonzalez in Lancaster PA - Maureen Y. Swedish fish gelati from Rita’s. - Claire B Bouquet of tacos. - Alina A-C My dream first meal? Ciabatta bread, a tub of humus and room-temperature Brie cheese. Yum! Congratulations to all the competitors at this year’s event. It was a pleasure sharing your food dreams with you.

I am overly dramatic. I am not an addict. But I imagine an affinity to all addicts. I know the torture of wanting what you can’t have. (Just one taste. Could it be so bad? Yes? Really?) I am suspicious. I believe you truly want the best of me. But if you hand me a coffee, I will question whether you added sugar like an inquisitor in the dark ages. (Are you trying to derail my diet?) I am superstitious. I don’t believe in curses or black cats. But I look both ways when I cross empty streets. And I look at cracks on the sidewalk like near-deadly threats. (What if I twist my ankle? How will I pose?) I am cautious. I usually revel in trying new things. But right now I am not interested in going skydiving. Or ATVing. Or even riding a bike down a small hill. (What if I fall? No amount of tanning will cover that bruise!) I am juvenile. I am grown. But I pout like a child when you tell me I chose to do this show. I chose to go on this diet. I chose this sport. (What’s your point??) I am temperamental. I am usually a veritable ray of sunshine. But right now . . . Not so much. I am being overly dramatic. I am just a hungry bodybuilder. Dreaming of milk in my coffee. Of ranch dressing on my salad. Of cheese in my eggs.Three weeks to go. And I am just being overly dramatic.

Is it just me? Right after finishing a 12-16 week strict diet - the minute I get off stage – I feel like I’ve escaped from fat camp. Or from the Gulaag. Or from jail. Or from whatever prison you want to imagine. I’ve held back all this time. I have been excruciatingly good. I have measured. I have prepped. I have sweated. I have given life and blood to look my best for a few hours. And now I feel I should be able to get some recompense for all my suffering. God bless all those people who “reverse diet”. What control they must have to keep denying themselves as they slowly increase their carb intake. To me, that all sounds like a slow death-by-diet.  I admire them all – I just don’t have any intention of following in their path. The minute I step off that stage I immediately want to indulge. Oh, heck, why lie? I want to OVERindulge – over and over again. And repeat it again the very next day. After a month of only white and green food (white tilapia and green asparagus) I am gobsmacked by the virtual endless colors of food. I (re)discover red peppers, pink salmon and orange carrots. Oh, the colors. And, oh, the myriad of flavors. I’d forgotten them all. I roam the aisles of the supermarket like an addict looking for her drug of choice. Everything is sooo good. Everything is sooo yummy. But some things are yummier than others. Which leads to my sorrowful confession. Within 3 days of my competition I ate an entire 12 ounce jar of Justin’s Natural Honey Peanut Butter. I ate it on rice cakes, on crackers, on top of (protein) pancakes and – more often than not – straight from the jar. I am pretty sure that the 3000 calories in that jar of peanut butter is more than I ingested in the entire last week of my competition prep. ​ I know. I have issues. So I am proud to announce that I have been peanut butter free for the last three weeks. It has been a struggle. My oldest child loves his PB&J sandwiches so the temptation is there every time I open the cabinet above the sink. I try not to look at it too often or too long. If I do, I am pretty sure I will justify having just one little spoonful. “What could it hurt?”  “It’s not bad if taken in moderation.” “I can control myself.” Oh, the lies I would tell myself. So I choose total abstinence. No half steps. No bogus alternatives like “only natural peanut butter” or “only PB Fit”. I’ve tried those before and quickly fallen off the wagon. So, NO peanut butter of ANY type or texture for me. I have a sponsor, I’m doing the steps and I am working towards my 4-week chip. ​ So say a prayer and wish me luck. I’ll really need it. (Now if I could only control my intake of humus.)

When I started I was 300lbs (5’10”), with a newborn baby, and I had just gained 100lbs during pregnancy. I felt overwhelmed, lost and doomed I’d be miserably overweight forever. Growing up as a fat kid I tried every diet in the book, and I was unable to stick to any plan to successfully lose the weight. I had no clue where to start on my weight loss journey! After months of secluding myself and new baby in the house, I decided it was time to make a change. So I joined a local mom group called stroller strides, where we would meet at a local park with our babies, and walk on a 1 mile walking trail three times a week. Walking is where I started, a mile would take me about 15-20mins. I did my first 5k with my stroller stride group, and I was hooked! I started walking in 5k races like it was my job! The pic on the left is my first 5k! Then we moved to TN, and my life was flipped upside down. I joined the YMCA, and saw an ad for a half marathon. I signed up to walk/jog it, and trained myself! 3 years into my weight loss journey I had lost 70lbs on my own with diet and exercise. After doing 6 half marathons, the scale wouldn’t budge, and I was still stuck at 230lbs! I discovered weights, and incorporated a super strict diet with intense cardio and exercise 5 days a week. I lost another 70lbs in 6 months. Bringing my total weight loss to 140lbs over 4 years of diet and exercise! In 2014 I had skin removal surgery, and a breast lift with implants.  For the last 10 years, I have tried to maintain the weight loss, but went back up to 200lbs by 2020. Then I found an all natural coach, Nate Eaton, who focused on sustainable Weight loss, and with his help I learned the healthier ways of flexible dieting. Then in 2021 I competed in my first all natural OCB bikini bodybuilding competition. Losing a total of 150lbs, and accomplishing dreams I never thought I’d be able to do! I have competed in 3 OCB shows since, and have fallen in love with the sport! Now I’m helping others achieve their Weight loss goals as a certified personal trainer, and I have such a passion to pass along the tools I have learned along my journey. I’m so incredibly thankful for the doors the universe opened for me to get here!

If you compete, you know the golden period. It’s the period right after your competition when you still look really good but you also feel really good. Because you’re not thinking about your next meal every second that passes after your last meal. Because you’re not sore from the last three work outs. Because you’re not dreading the cardio you still have left to do. Because you’re no longer jealous of any and every one because they get to eat any and every thing. ​ But this is the golden period. People feel free to approach you to tell you how good you look. You are their role model. They ask If you’re a trainer. They ask about your workout routine. And about what you eat. People in public think you look like this all the time and the people at the gym forget what you looked like just a few months back. They wouldn’t have dared to approach you just two weeks ago. Two weeks ago you looked hungry. You looked like you could bite. You looked like you could bite them. Hard. And draw blood. And smile while doing it. But now you are back to your sweet approachable self. And they want to know all your secrets. ​ The golden period is fabulous. You accept all those invitations to dinner that people promised you during prep – and sometimes they even pay. It doesn’t matter whether you won or it was your worse year yet. They toast you with wine and exotic drinks. Your friends are happy that you are happy. They are so happy that you are back to your pleasant carb-up self. They like being around you again. They ask if you want to taste their food – or share a desert – with no agenda. You don’t feel like they are trying to derail your diet. You realize they really just want to share. ​ The golden period is short-lived. At some point, you start looking like a normal person. (Well, a normal person with an inordinate amount of muscle, that is.) Your legs fill out. Your shoulders lose definition. The belly is not so flat.  But you also get your shape back. Your sway back. Your natural curves. No more need for the padded bra because the “girls” are back. No longer looking like a boy in almost everything you wear because the hips are back. And your backside is – well - back. You bounce when you walk and it’s not a bad thing. ​ Some of us mourn the end of the golden period but it is inevitable. More importantly, the end is healthy. Being lean year-round is not good for the body. And it’s not good for growing muscles. Nothing can grow in a state of starvation.  Muscles need to be fed which means you need to be fed. ​ So enjoy the golden period while it lasts. Taste the flavors and the colors. Enjoy the company and the laughs. Go ahead and revel in it. I know I will.