I Am Only Human

Bound By Flaws.

For a first time in a long time.. 

 

It had occur to me that people see me as this “super human” amazing women who lifts heavy and walks with confidence and seemingly has her life together & everything she does just seems to be #goals (my blog, my workout, my future career, my online presence, physique, etc) & this scares me a little bit, actually a lot of bit. I mean granted I am thankful that I have inspired people, built relationships and rapport with people who now trust me enough to come to me with questions about fitness/health, have had a blog that went from 0 to hero in matter of months and that I tend to make people smile with my random comedic personality BUT what scares me is that people seem to think because of all this I did do, that they think they can’t do it. Like it took some magical pixie dust and oops the store ran out of it, so looks like no one else is capable of doing AMAZING things with their own life. 

 

I hate to give it to you like this.. BUT.. I am only human. That’s right, I came out the vagina the same way you did and I ended up on planet earth just like you. my baby self didn’t have a 6 pack and big arms, I surely wasn’t tying blogs at the age of 2 and I couldn’t have been that famous because I am still broke & I am willing to bet .. no one really even knows me besides family and friends and the people who know of me online. I could lie and say I am a HUGE deal but lets get real, I am not. Do I want to be? YES! because I have a lot to offer in my field and I know I am capable of GREAT things! I believe this. I know how hard I have to work in order to keep my physique in top notch if I want the “deals” and exposure, I know what it takes to keep my blog running smoothly so that all of you keep coming back to pester me about how much you love my stuff (lol)  & I know how much constant research, learning and events it will take for me to build more knowledge so I know what I am talking about and can teach others and spread my knowledge to others who listen to me. My life is not all daisies and wildflowers with tons of sunshine – I have cloudy days. I have periods and bloating that makes me look “gross” , I have struggled with body shaming, I have had the ups and downs of having a nice physique, I have failed in sporting events, I have struggled with my own self confidence and who I am, I have struggled financially, I have lost out on many opportunities (not being good enough), I have days where my abs are no longer there and my arms look like twigs and I am crying trying to pick myself back up. I have had many days where my post suck and I felt like walking away, and for goodness sake .. I know what it is like to have flaws. 

 

The problem is, maybe not all my flaws are seen with the human eye, maybe some of them are seen and you can pinpoint them in less than 5 seconds, but it doesn’t matter because I am no better than anyone else. Being in the fitness field can put a lot of pressure on you to be something like someone else in order to gain a huge following, more “friends”, more money and more fame. I don’t mind the pressure much anymore because I had to stop trying to be like her or him and had to try better at doing what I do best: being me, with flaws and all. I can’t always show my flaws because, hey it is a business, and I have to put on a good face and a good show if I want to keep everyone else around me happy, but when I do, it hits hard — because that is the one time I can let go and just allow myself to cry or get angry. Becoming a trainer isn’t easy either, hell .. you are responsible for someone outside of yourself and being an athlete, well hell you are responsible with being “good” and if not good, then you better be able to handle the harsh criticisms because the world is ready to chew you whole and spit you out. Truth is, during this whole time of learning about myself and wanting to go the distance in everything I do, I have learned I am as strong as I allow but I can’t handle every hurdle and I can’t handle every ball thrown at me.. because like everyone else, I am human and I am going to have days where I fall and getting back up will seem impossible. 

 

Hopefully this post gave people some perspective and understanding. Feel free to leave comments, likes, share it on social media or follow me 🙂 Thank you.

 

Your Fitness Blogger,

 

Shay-lon xxooo

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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(MLK Day) – I grew up dealing with racism, but I never stopped loving others because of it.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day 🙂

 

It is apparent that Dr. Martin Luther King had a dream, one that he had hoped would happen with combating negativity with peace and love and not anger. Many of us were not born during the civil rights movement to know the kind of pain, the kind of “fight” black people  had to put up, in order to find that equality, in order to call every nationality our brothers, our sisters. Many of us now are still fighting that fight in order to be accepted among other cultures and nationalities. People say they don’t judge, people say they only know of love, people say they don’t see color, but people show so much different sometimes. This blog post will discuss my fight, my obstacles, and how I managed to become the strong, independent, black woman I am today in a world full of so much hate, full of so much hurt, full of so much loss, full of so much tears and so much death. 

 

For starters, I grew up in an all white community (Findlay, Ohio) but was born in Cincinnati Ohio. , being the only black female on my sports teams, my choir, my neighborhood, my school many times, and among my group of friends growing up. To me, it was normal, because I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know what diversity really was because I was used to being in this small box, used to being the standout, used to being the dark face in a picture. I brought up and raised on love, acceptance and to be people’s friend because who they are and not because of how much money they had, what they looked like or because they chose to be different. My mom never taught hate, she never told me to be mean because they didn’t “look like me”,  she wanted me to be polite to my elders and give respect to my teachers and make friends with people who bring positivity to my life and gave me a solid foundation to stand on my own when things got tough. The hardest thing for me was to stand on my own when things got tough & things did get tough for me, they sure did but don’t pity me, for what I am about to tell you is only to enlighten you on my life and give you my eyes for a day, my thoughts for a day and fears for a day.  For none of this is worse than anyone else’s obstacles. 

 

I believe my first bout with racism was when I was in 5th grade at Lincoln Elementary school in Findlay, Ohio. I was on the playground at recess, probably playing kickball or something and a school mate decided to call me “Nigger”, she was so sure of herself that she called me “nigger” more than once. I didn’t know what to do or say, I was not a confrontational child and I didn’t understand why someone would call me “nigger” when my mom always taught my brother and I to never say that word. In 5th grade you have an idea of what racism is, but because I was the only black kid in the school, I guess I thought it wouldn’t be such an issue since most of these kids I had knew since diapers. That same day, I cried. I felt defeated because while she was laughing at me and my weakness, I decided to do “the right thing” which was tell the principal, and my mom came to the school and in her mind I probably should have punched the chick in her face for being so damn ignorant but I didn’t. The principal dealt with it “accordingly” I suppose, she might have gotten suspended (I still remember her name, but will not mention for her sake). That same day I had to walk home and as I was walking home, her family and herself were in a vehicle and pulled up in front of me, to threaten me. Again, scared. I just allowed them to say whatever they had to say and waited for them to drive away before continuing home. This was my 1st bout with racism.

 

My second bout with racism was in 5th grade, but it was a little odd, some guy in my classes thought it would be funny to make jokes about black people and would say “nigger” repeatedly, not outloud for the teacher to hear but more like under his breath and in whispers.. and he would just say some really stupid things, that would make hardly any sense but for some reason he got off on that.. and I still til this day do not understand why – I don’t believe I ever told my mom about this incident nor a teacher but I wanted to many times because after awhile it just got unnerving and he was fucking annoying. I don’t think he was calling me a “nigger”, well I believe he did once but I ignored it, because after awhile you just get used to it, when someone makes it their mission to call you names that offend you because of your skin color. It hardly makes any fucking sense why his ass did this but he made it so it was an ongoing teasing game and I just ignored it all the time. Sometimes I wish I would have had the balls to punch him in the throat, I can only hope he has grown up since then.. or someone kicked his ass finally. 

 

3rd bout with racism – 6th grade (middle school), I had a HUGE crush on this guy at school, for a while he didn’t know but man did I go “goo goo gaga” over him – he was like my ultimate crush, I swear I was all about him! haha. We weren’t friends but he was friends with some of my friends at the time, well one of my friends made it their mission to tell him that I had a crush on him because she knew him very well, and I didn’t really want her to tell him but at the same time I was like.. eh.. why not. I thought the most that would happen would be he reject me by saying he had no interest and then I would have to move on. WELL.. he rejected me alright but in one of the worse ways possible in order to make a point – which pissed me off and hurt me really bad. He said something about me being a dirty fence (referencing my color) and I was ugly and how he thought I was poop on a fence or something of that nature. I mean .. I guess when you have to choose between being called nigger, or being referenced as dirt on a fence or worse poop on a fence, you really don’t know which is worse; especially in a school where no one understood the hurt like I did, the way I did. He said it at the damn lunch table for everyone to hear too, which made me feel that much more beaten down. Some laughed and of course he laughed too, but I didn’t laugh. I didn’t find it funny at all. That made my self esteem really low. 

 

My fourth bout with racism- Was in 7th grade, I played basketball and was on the basketball team, well I was the ONLY black girl on our basketball team. Which again didn’t bother me too much but I didn’t know very many people at this school, so it was different for me. In 6th grade I played basketball but my team didn’t give me shit about my race nor did the coach either. I actually was friends with some of the people on the team at the time and it made me more comfortable. Well 7th grade, I was kind of put on the spot multiple times. When a teacher is asking you what it is like to be in slavery and you don’t know the answer (and she replies with, how do you not know) .. or when the coach decides to not play you for the majority of the games even though you are good, or when someone references their tan comparing to your skin tone and making sly comments at you about “how they don’t wish to be that dark” and someone else telling them that they look black and they reply with “ew, no” .. 

 

5th bout with racism- 8th grade, I had a coach’s assistant (classmate) throw salt in my hair in a bus so she could get a laugh at how the salt looked like bugs in “black people’s hair” – I don’t know.. I did nothing about it, again being a little bitch and wanting to fit in, I just let shit happen. My mom was pissed to say the least. I mean extremely pissed off. That probably made her blood pressure rise pissed off. 

 

9th grade, being called a “black white girl” like sure this seems like it is okay, right? you would assume it is is okay, that people make this into a compliment. In their eyes, I was black in color but acted like a white girl (whatever this is supposed to mean) the ignorance was unreal.. and I not knowing any better or understanding just allowed people to make this reference, because they liked that I wasn’t the stereotypical black chick.. they liked that I was prim and proper and didn’t dress like I came from Compton, they adored that I had long hair and wore american eagle, they loved that my words made sense and all because of my color, I couldn’t be just Shay-lon, I had to be the “black white girl”. 

 

10th and 11th grade. Mostly 10th though. By this time I had moved to Texas and attended a new school. It definitely was black people prominent but this didn’t make a difference because somehow I was still different in their eyes. The ignorance at this school was huge when it came to being a different kind of black .. god because I wasn’t raised in the hood and didn’t wear certain clothing or talk a certain way or walk a certain way or fuck all the black men in the school or because I didn’t have a HUGE ass or because my hair wasn’t fake and didn’t text like a gangsta or because I wasn’t a gang member or because I was wearing american eagle instead of baby phat jeans.. I mean seriously.. the ignorance was outrageous!!!! Black girls treated me like shit and for what reason? because I was different!!! my own fucking race.. had to talk down to me, make me feel inferior and make me feel unwanted in order to make a point about where I was from and who I was. The only love I got was when I was playing basketball, it was my outlet. Black guys were no better,, calling each other “nigga and negro” and me wondering why anyone would say that to another human being.  I didn’t belong anywhere anymore. 

 

12 grade I moved to Colorado and didn’t deal with very little to no racism and little to none ignorance. It was diverse and people were accepting of me at the school. I felt like I didn’t have to live in the unknown and didn’t have to question my level of worth because of who I was and what I looked like.  It was a nice change.

 

When I moved back to Findlay, Ohio 4.5-5 years later. I transferred jobs and was the only black person working at the store after one black man was fired. I think for the most part I was treated decently, I don’t think people gave me too much of a hard time in that store when it came to race – at least not to my knowledge. When I got a second job in town, I had another bout with racism when a customer called me a “nigger”, and I was much older and much wiser, I gave this dude a piece of my mind and afterwards told my boss and started crying and was super pissed off. For the first time in my life, I stood up for myself – I was happy I did, because I was sick of being called something out of my name, sick of people thinking it is okay to do so and sick of letting it happen and not doing shit about it. 

 

Since this time, my bouts have been slim to none. Doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, doesn’t mean my life was horrible, just means it took me a long time to finally accept me for me and it took me longer to stand up for myself. I have allowed things to happen because I was raised to love and raised to be respectful and raised to only fight when necessary and to be strong and be brave but many times over, I wasn’t brave and I wasn’t strong and I allowed people to make my race an issue, make my lifestyle an issue, make my clothes an issue, make me an issue. When the REAL issue was those people didn’t like me for me because they didn’t have the same kind of love in their hearts for others different than themselves. This was hard for me to write because it was long and it hit on things that angered me growing up. I know black people aren’t the only ones being bullied or called racist names, I know other cultures and nationalities get shitted on, but I am black and this is my story, 

 

Martin Luther King Jr didn’t have a dream that we would abuse the word “nigga” and make it a thing for ONLY certain people to use but get mad when others start chiming in, he didn’t have a dream that our own race would turn their backs on one another because of how they looked or where they came from. His dream wasn’t to put down others who were different from ourselves, he didn’t have a dream that we would be in turmoil, he didn’t have a dream in hopes that racism, slavery, and hate would come full circle again. His dream aimed to unite people from different backgrounds, his dream was to get away from anger and hate and stem from love and peace, his dream was for people to see color but to not make light of it, his dream was for us to be BETTER people, to spread kindness, joy, love, equality, and give people a home no matter what race they were, feed them no what race they were, educate them no matter what race they are, and teach them about his dream and to practice what we preach. It’s too bad he isn’t alive now, because he would be proud to know that the world has gotten better since his death, but he would cry at the pain some still endure. 

 

“I have decided to stick with love, hate is too great of a burden to bear” – Martin Luther King Jr. 

 

Shay-lon 

 

Chances are you aren’t really living ..

Every once in a GREAT while, I get in one of these inspirational moods and bore you with my positive outlook and story… thoughts.. fears.. momentary comedy.. and toward the end everything ends with .. bullshit I could have said in the beginning but decided to make you read til the end to find out the point. This is another one of those post. 😀

 

You see, we run into this thing called chance, the possibility of something happening but we never know what. We are always taking chances, at least most of us are, and when our chances run out, well.. that normally means we have met our maker or we have run into a dead end, and it is time to re-evaluate how we spend what time we have left. How do you spend today, if you don’t know what tomorrow will be like? Odds are you will continue to.. what is that word? Live?

People use the word “live” a lot, it almost sounds like a catchy answer until I become a nuisance and ask you “how do you really know you are living, spending everyday alive, when you aren’t taking chances, and you are afraid to make mistakes”? then you get that grumpy answer: “Well I am still breathing, aren’t I?” – nothing seems to make sense anymore.. when people say that. 

Many of you are probably wondering what this has to do with “Fitness/health”, but if you pay attention, this whole thing will add up to another post in the future & in all honesty this whole post has to do with life – and fitness & health is a lifestyle, right? so calm down and don’t worry about me getting off the beaten path.. 

 

This whole year of 2016, I took some pretty huge chances, I made some really fucked up mistakes and I probably lived more than I have in many years. Actually.. I haven’t lived enough and I want more of out life – but that is because I constantly await for something to happen in my life, I patiently wait to make another mistake, to fuck up, to laugh louder and harder, to cry more, to smile often, and store what is left of the memories in my phone, laptop or brain.  I suggest all of you wait too, no use in running after something that will greet you at the door in due time. I am not really good with words, so excuse me if this starts to sound like gibberish, I don’t mean to make you fall asleep, I just don’t use really big words when I speak to keep people’s attention – I much prefer to speak like a child (repeating what I say often using different sentences but the same small words) luckily for all of you, I am a “big kid”, so no need for a babysitter. 

 

It’s shame we have all been trying to fit in all this time, trying to create this white picket fence where we greet our neighbors every morning, say hi to Lucy and Tom next door, and go to work to come home and do it all over again. We stopped taking chances, sometime ago, when we realized that Lucy and Tom were shot walking down the street to get coffee, our dog was hit by a train and our children lost their first sports event of the year & we got laid off from our million dollar job! Oh.. we were living.. day in and day out, doing the same shit, greeting the same neighbors, attending the same games, and working the same hours, laughing at the same black and white TV shows. I remember when people were “living”, living in bliss and living in fortune. Some might agree that back then compared to now has significantly changed (and I don’t mean the weather) – I mean everybody who is somebody can’t even stand to walk anymore without fear. We don’t take the same chances anymore. I hear people say “nothing is going to stop me from living” but they are the same ones driving to the corner store up one block and complaining about how they wished they could save on gas, but don’t dare walk in fear they could be mugged.. – so what was that whole nothing can stop me from living again? lol. 

 

We stopped living when things happened next door to us, when people we know lost their lives, when we decided that it was much safer in our homes, when we watched the news and wanted nothing to do with the outside world, and when pain and sorrow came knocking at our doors – we gave up our lives, we surrendered them to those that challenged it. We don’t attend the same kind of parties anymore, we don’t associate with the same kind of people anymore, we don’t offer sugar to our neighbors, we don’t eat candy from Halloween, we don’t drive the same way to work – call it being cautious if you want to, but being cautious is what kept people from living (for better or for worse, that is up to you)

It isn’t only you that isn’t living, hell I am not living, I am being more and more stuck in this zone of “safety” where it scares me to almost say my name to strangers, not knowing their intentions. Making new friends and dating never seemed anymore scary than these days – online and offline. Truth is, we don’t take the same chances we once have, and it doesn’t mean we failed, or that we are scared shitless, just means we developed a sense of wanting to stay alive, wanting to protect, wanting to be more aware of what could happen. 

 

I personally believe that “living” is what you make it, but what if you don’t live long enough to make something of life? What if your tragic end comes in the next couple of hours? Does it mean you didn’t live life, or does it mean you lived it until you had nothing to live for? 

 

Something tells me you are going to think I am crazy for creating this post, I hope it wasn’t too deep for any of you. I hope it didn’t scare any of you, I hope I get some good feedback , and all of you decide to share your thoughts, I hope you share my post with your audience and get them talking about it, I hope I have inspired you to take chances.. more often.. and I hope I opened your mind to life.. to what we know but do not always notice. 

 

This is how I will end this post: “if by taking chances means we die quicker, then I guess that means we need to make haste, because who wants to die a slow death” – Shay-lon Moss

 

Thank you for reading. 

 

Shay-lon Moss xxxx

 

Being a Champion is what happens when the world isn’t looking

champions

Maybe we don’t own trophies to prove it, but we all are champions. Many of you probably think I am crazy for saying so, because what is a champion, if they haven’t won anything, right? This is true,  I mean normally a champion wins something, but when I talk about the word champion, I don’t mean winning a Gold medal or first place trophy, I mean we all do something that makes us a champion. Some of us may not always be champions, sure we make mistakes, we fuck up, we land flat on our faces sometimes and complain about it. It isn’t the fuck up that we should be judged for, it’s what we do after the fuck up that makes most of us champions, it is what we do when doors are closed and no one is watching, it is the smile you put on someone’s face without trying, it is the dollar you gave without asking them why, it is the drive you make in order to see a loved one, it is the gift you bought while you were struggling, it is the courage you had when the world was against you, it is the change you made to save your marriage, it’s the story you told to spread awareness, it is the life you saved without mentioning, it is the fight you gave during your battle of cancer, it is the tears you cried watching a loved one die, it is the promise you kept when everything fell apart, is the friendship you gave someone, the last dollar in your pocket you spent on someone else, the last goodbye, etc. 

 

See, athletes are used to being champions in front of a large crowd,  I would know, I was an athlete all my life, we are used to being applauded for our wins, our triumphs, our records, our pristine smile in front of cameras. The world calls you a good person, the world thinks of you being a good role model, being a good child, a good sibling, a good parent all BECAUSE you do a good job at your event or sport. God forbid you are a horrible at your event and/or sport, now the world will think of you as a loser, you suck, we don’t care about you, now your smile is meaningless, your parenting skills go unseen and you no longer have their attention. The sad fact is we all want to be validated for something good we have done, we look for someone to tell us “good job”, “you are awesome”, “that was amazing”, “I want to be just like you when I grow up”, etc. because we put on this face in front of people and make people believe that what we do in the light is what we do in the dark.  O.J Simpson is a good example of this, he was an amazing athlete during his time and people loved and adored him, all of a sudden his wife is murdered and he faces trial and no one wants to believe he killed her because he was a “good” person on camera, during games, at practice, at the park with his son, so how could he kill his wife? He was made out to be this teddy bear and lovable person, but what he did behind closed doors, the camera couldn’t see.  He knew what he did behind closed doors and he knew what the public seen of him, he chose to make bad decisions (in my opinion) behind closed doors, therefore he is a fraud; he only made good decisions when he got something out of it. This is no different than talking badly about a friend of yours then going to hang out with this same person after talking bad about him/her; you’re fraud because your actions done in the light don’t match what is done in the dark. 

 

I am not saying we don’t make mistakes, because we do and we all have a past. The difference is some people change in order to do better, and some people stay complacent. The world only sees what we show, what we don’t show is what makes someone a champion if it is the right thing to do. You don’t need lights, camera, action to be a champion, you don’t need a trophy, a medal, a certificate, or tons of friends, all you need is a good heart and good intentions. “What you do in the dark will come to light when you least expect it” -Shay-lon Moss