Weekend at Gary's -The Best Bachelorette Party EVER

Everyone hates bachelorette parties…except the bride. There’s really no bridesmaid that is super pumped about spending all night spending money and pretending their bride is a queen, following her around in matching outfits attending to her every whim. But my bridesmaids are not just any bridesmaids…they are super heroes. They are grand adventurers. And without a doubt, they are the best friends I could ever ask for.

This is the tale of our Weekend at Gary’s.

Our story begins with me having no idea what’s going on. My bridesmaids had planned a surprise weekend (which I did eventually find out was in Nashville) of which I knew none of the details. 

Friday evening I met with two of the girls, we loaded up on Red Bull and Rhianna and hit the road to Nashville.

We arrived to what seemed to be not a hotel-type neighborhood and rolled up to a condo looking house. This would be Gary’s house, and our home for the weekend. Gary’s house, as it turns out, was an AirBNB. I’d never stayed in one before and if you’re not familiar with AirBNB let me inform you.

It’s where super awesome, trusting people, open their doors to strangers and rent out their home to travelers.  In our case, Gary the architect (*made up backstory fact) lent us his super gorgeous home, decorated in vinyl records and Nashville themed art clad with photos of his loved ones that helped fueled our ongoing backstory of who Gary was in real life.

When I walked in I took in the amazing spread of snacks and décor that looked straight up outta Pinterest, and also my favorite wine ready to go. My ladies had clearly outdone themselves, and we were ready to party. The hashtag #weekendatgarys and #garybeforemarry was created and my excitement over the hot tub started the evening.

My MOH freaking made this. With her bare hands. LIKE CUT THE WOOD AND DREW DESIGNS ON IT AND MADE IT. DYING. 

My future sister and mother-in-law made Pinterest come to life with these adorable snackages. The jello shots were too delicious. TOO. DAMN. DELICIOUS. 

Now, this is how you know you have the right kind of friends. When they have an itinerary for the whole weekend (legitimately printed out, thanks to your super-planner sister-in-law…a girl after your own heart) and have scouted all the must-dos in Nashville. (P.S. The itinerary had cowboy boots and hats on it!)

And like that we were off... 

They whisked me off to the most hipsterish place I’ve ever been…the Pharmacy. Apparently this is where all the cool kids go, as evident by the boatloads of handlebar mustaches and beers I didn’t recognize.

We had the world’s least enthusiastic server which only made it even better as we tried anything we could think of to make him smile. (He didn’t, though.) The burgers were AH MAH ZING and probably exactly what I didn’t know I needed for the night that would follow.

Afterwards we retreated to Gary’s where one of the girls suggested we go to Play. We were pretty much convinced after learning that there would be a drag show and that Ke$ha had a song about it, but we were COMPLETELY convinced after she mentioned there would be a foam pit involved.

We piled into our Uber in our swimsuits and outfits and headed to a gay bar. Already this party was more than I could hope for, and I just didn’t even know what was coming.

After paying the insane cover charge, we found our way to the drag show. The place was packed and after a few acts we decided to further investigate the seemingly endless hallways and rooms of the club. We found our way to the main dance floor and decided we definitely made the right choice. It was full of lights, a disco ball, and dubstep. Although the dance floor was empty, it gave us a chance to admire the bartenders and pre-game with cheap tequila. And boy, it was cheap tequila.

Soon enough we felt brave enough to find this rumored foam pit. We traversed down the hallway to a door way where people covered in suds were flowing out from and ventured in.

This is all I want out of life every day. 

You know when people say that if they won the lottery they would fill up a pool with jello or something? This was basically that feeling but about a parking lot. The lot had a fence all the way around it, a stage with a DJ, and bubble machines raining down over the crowd. The bubbles were about knee high, but that was enough for us. Most of us dove in, and the others stayed behind to capture proof that this was real life.

As we danced our faces off, swimming around with a bunch of strangers in bubbles, they began to rise. Before we knew it, the bubbles were up to our shoulders. We’d dive down and disappear, and people would suddenly appear up from the tide. I can’t describe the feeling, but it was bizarre and incredible and probably the most fun I’ve ever had on a dance floor.

After a while we exited off the bubble-floor and headed back inside. It was very cold, and we were covered in soapy water. We toweled off though, and headed in to the now packed dance floor. There was twerking. There was a lot of twerking. Not by us, although I fell victim to dancing to close to someone’s behind as they twerked into my face. THANKS, DANCE PLATFORM.

He had that booty, tho

Before long we befriended a lone dancer, flailing around in khakis and a button up shirt. Clearly, he was misplaced and alone and we decided to make him ours. 

His name was Brandon, and he told us he was a banker. We had guessed as much, but we let him tell us how important he was. He seemed to need it. 

Although we prefaced our conversation with the majority of our group was taken and the odds were not in his favor, he insisted on buying us all drinks all night.

Maybe because he knew he would eventually take off all his clothes in the foam pit and we would need to stop security from hauling him out.

We headed for round two in the foam pit and danced until they shut it down. We helped Brandon find his pants then headed back into the bar.

While we were ordering, Brandon decided to climb up onto the wall divider. A simple mistake, as it's located mere feet from the dance platform. But it was too late. Apparently Play has a no tolerance rule for dancing on the wall, and he was pulled down by security.

My loyal bridesmaids party pulled me back from arguing with the bouncer, and even the bartender tried to plead with him, but it was too late.

He hauled Brandon out, and he waved to us. RIP Brandon in Khakis. We barely knew ye.


For the remainder of the weekend, we would drink in his honor.


We cabbed home and ended up in the hot tub before finally getting to bed around four.


But the party began again the next day with breakfast at T Swifts favorite place in Nashville, Fidos.

I came prepared in my tiara and sash, and we attempted to get the story of when my wedding actually was straight because we got sick of explaining why we were celebrating and it was in January.

We were rockstars, though.

We then went to our first secret stop...which ended up being the Arrington Vineyards. It was beautiful and we were all in our matching wedding party gear and it was a blast. We did a wine tasting and relaxed and it was perfect.

We had a quick nap-stop back at Gary's where we piled in bed (Gary's wonderful, massive, king sized, super soft bed) and watched Broad City before the ultimate evening began.

It started with us getting ready, and then me coming outside to find a limo waiting. A FREAKING LIMO.

The plan was to drive around Nashville, eat pizza, and drink champagne like freaking badass bees. 

Our first stop was this amazing look out, where you could see the whole city. It was right at sunset and it was perfect (they literally had all our stops planned and I couldn't get over how much time and effort was put into this weekend). 

Then we visited the Nashville Parthenon and took a bunch of pictures and got to pet some super soft adorable pups. 

Unfortunately, everything in our limo was broken. The AC, the lights, the radio. At this point, we were really starting to realize the AC part of the problem. My sister-in-law got on the phone like a BOSS.

 

So we got the limo ride free if we got out where we were, which happened to be the County Music Hall of Fame.

We hopped out, and as we were deciding what to do we ran into two rickshaw drivers who convinced us that they would bring the party, and they totes did.

What began as a quick ride to find a horse drawn carriage, ended with a three hour rickshaw ride around Nashville. Tim and Tim #2 (Ryan, I think was probably his real name..) showed us all these amazing places that we never would have seen otherwise, including some history about the city.

They gave us some pretty cool stories to tell, and pictures like these...

It was pretty much the best experience I've ever had in my life. They paraded us up and down Broadway and made me feel like a parade princess and made us feel like the coolest bachelorette party of all time, which really, what else could you ask for?

via GIPHY

We said our goodbyes in front of Coyote Ugly and bid the Tims farewell.

And then the dancing began. There was lots of dancing.

And well, that's all we'll say about Coyote Ugly. But there was this guy:

So. 

We ended up at another ball that had a disco ball, and that's pretty much all I remember from there. 

Somehow our Uber got us to a Cookout where we met Jeff-Michael-Rick whom we convinced to buy us all food. 

We ate with him, and then retreated back to Gary's.

 

The next morning, we assessed whether or not we were going to live much longer, and came to the conclusion that none of our legs worked and we would probably all be dead soon without breakfast.

We headed to a place that Tim #1 had pointed out on our tour, Monell's. It's an all you can eat, family style place that serves down home Southern food. IT WAS SO GOOD OHMYGOD. We sat with strangers who had just gotten engaged and so that was fun.

I was still wearing my tiara and I have no regrets.



We headed our separate ways after leaving Gary a lengthy note about how much we love him and his beautiful house.



It was one of the most fun, memorable weekends of my entire life. I laughed so hard, and I got to scream Rhianna lyrics at people from a rickshaw and dance in a foam pit so I really don't know where my life goes from here.

Thank you to my beautiful, intelligent, generous friends who went above and beyond the call of duty making this bride feel like an all out QUEEN.




 
X THAT WHOLE WEEKEND.


If you'd like to check out some of the things we did in detail, check out my blog board on Pinterest:


Follow Marvyl's board Weekend at Garys Bachelorette Party on Pinterest.

The Weight of the Issue

Guys, I have so many exciting things to write about.

I have the recap of the world's best bachelorette party. I have the most gorgeous invitations to tell you all about. I have so many exciting wedding details to update!

But I can't seem to get the words to flow, the paragraphs to match my enthusiasm for all the spectacular things happening, because over it all (prepare for over dramatic statement) my world seems to be crumbling down around me.

Yeah, it's going to be THAT kind of post.



So, if you're not feeling melodramatic today, go read something more cheerful like this post.


If you're ready to join me in the pity party...proceed!
 


This all began a few months ago, when for some reason my body decided that it was going to completely reject the medication I had been switched to and it started panicking.
 

This meant I became an emotional trainwreck, with paralyzing anxiety.


Now, generally I'm a hypochondriac but this time it was to the point where I was entirely sure I was going to die and couldn't even bring myself to make an appointment for the doctors because I knew that they would tell me I had merely weeks to live, and I would never see my wedding day or my kids holding one of those stupid chalk board first day of school things and I would never get to use all that damn money in my 401K and I would have been saving all of it for nothing.

So instead of calling, I spent my nights lying awake planning my bucket list and my super-awesome party-not funeral.

I've been suffering from depression the majority of my life, but I usually tend to keep the anxiety under control. This was a whole new level for me, and I had no idea how to cope with it.

I couldn't get out of bed, I couldn't sleep. I focused on things to the point that I was convinced I was a lunatic, and the best thing for everyone is if I just pulled an Irish goodbye and never came back. 

And, since I was dying, what did it matter?

When it got to the point of being a safety concern, Eric helped me get into the doctor's.

I didn't know what was going to be worse, finding out that it was something life threatening, or finding out it wasn't and confirming that I was, in fact, out of my mind.

We found out the issue was not going to kill me, and was easily treatable and as she delivered the news, my eyes filled up with tears and I looked over at Eric, fully expecting him to exit in this sort of fashion:
 

Like, ok BAI crazy lady. I'm not dealing with this anymore!

But of course, he's an angel, and he just seemed really excited that I wasn't going to die.



After my complete breakdown in the doctor's office, we decided we should probs deal with my little anxiety problem.
 


Just thought at this point you needed a cute puppy GIF. You're WELCOME.

Anyhow, so we changed my medicine and slowly I started feeling less like the world was ending.

But, lucky for me, that came with 14 pounds of weight.

Yeah. FOURTEEN. POUNDS.

If nothing else in this world, I've been blessed with Eric, great friends, and the luxury of a fast metabolism shared between me and my brother.

Once in high school I gained a bunch of weight, but it went right back off and I've been lucky to remain approximately the same size for the past eight years or so.

Until I guess, I decided to get married and the universe thought, "HEY! THIS WOULD BE A GREAT TIME FOR YOU TO GAIN A BUNCH OF WEIGHT AND LOSE ALL YOUR SELF CONFIDENCE!"
 

So after realizing I now couldn't fit into my wedding dresses or any of my clothes, my confidence had never been lower.

 

All of this was a great starting point for the worst month of bad news.

I started a new job, Eric lost his job and then got hired on in Nashville (he's moving away), a close family member found out they had cancer, and my mom had a relapse.


It's a whole lot of crappy news in a short amount of time.



Every day is a constant effort to convince myself that it's worth moving forward. To get up, and face whatever ridiculous things the world has in store that day.

And sometimes it feels overwhelming to try and explain how I'm feeling because everyone is going through something difficult, and at times it seems completely selfish to bring your problems up when in the grand scheme of things they really aren't that bad.

The past month has been an exercise in perspective. And a reminder of what I have always said...I've seen worse days, I've seen better.

There will always be bad days. There will be bad months, and bad years, and sometimes it will seem like your whole life is one big joke being played on you.

But there will be so, so many good days. Days where your friends ride around Nashville with you and you feel like a queen and days when your fiance makes you laugh so hard you cry and you're just sitting at home binge watching Netflix.

Those good days are so worth these bad ones. And so I guess this whole thing is to point out that the good days weigh so much more than the bad ones, in the end.

 





Thanks for everyone who has supported me over the past few months during this craziness. Much love, always.

Why wasn't I invited?! (And how to deal with not making the cut)

It's wedding season again, and right on cue you can hear the hushed whispers of dismay.

Break rooms and coffee dates and angsty texts across the country are full of angry people who are upset that they didn't make the guest list.



So I thought I'd take a moment to explain just why you didn't make the cut, and how to deal with it.


The first round of cuts comes down to: budget and obligation.

The first thing you need to remember is that the guest list is not a one person decision. It's more of like a twenty person decision.

The guest list gets input from the bride, the groom, the parents, and any other relatives who are determined that Great Aunt Betsy HAS to be there.

In most cases the bride and groom aren't paying, so they almost never have final authority on the number of guests, or even who makes the cut. And when push comes to shove, the person signing the check can cross your name out so Great Aunt Betsy makes it.

So if whoever is paying for the wedding says the couple can only invite 100 people, you can best believe that all relatives come in ahead of you.

Keep in mind most weddings come out to $30 or more PER GUEST. These decisions aren't made lightly!


The second round of cuts comes down to relationships. Now, this part of the decision doesn't apply to you if you're the bride's best friend and somehow didn't make the cut...that's some personal stuff that you'll have to take up with her.

This applies to all you high school friends and work buddies.

Just because you talk to the bride or groom every day, doesn't mean that you're going to be automatically included on the guest list. It's just a hard truth you're going to have to face. Same goes to people who haven't actually spoken to them in five years, but you were super close in college.

Let's say the bride and groom just got engaged. If you're not one of the people they actually called on the phone to tell or texted immediately, and you found out on Facebook...you're probably not going to make the first round of cuts.

The important thing to remember here is that friendship does not equal guest list. It doesn't mean you're more or less important to them, it just means that there are people who have been involved in their lives and relationship in a different way.


Now, there are tons of other factors that may have impacted why you didn't make the guest list, but here's the part you ought to be focusing on: how to deal with it.



1) Don't invite yourself
If you didn't get a save the date, trust me, they didn't "forget" you. Don't make comments about how your invite must have been lost in the mail...it's rude, and it will probably make them feel awful that they weren't able to invite you due to listed reasons above.

2) Skip the guilt trip
Whether it was family or budget, if you're friends then there is a huge chance they wanted to invite you, but couldn't. Don't be that person that rains on the parade by talking about how you really wish you were going to be there, and how you bet it's going to be incredible. Spread joy, don't kill it!

3) Be supportive
If you aren't invited but still want to be involved, start by talking to the bride or groom. Let them know you understand they couldn't invite the whole world, but that you're still super happy for them and want to offer any support or help. There is SO much to do and they will definitely appreciate you offering, and it lets you celebrate with them outside of the wedding. Also let the maid of honor or family members know you're free to help with no invite obligation.



So there is a mini guest-list survival guide for the impending wedding season of all your Facebook friends.

Just like in White Christmas!

We've been struggling to find an affordable place to hold our rehearsal dinner, and thanks to the brilliant staff at the Southern Railway Station, we have THE BEST PLACE EVER.

We'll be holding our rehearsal dinner in the newly renovated second box car of the train outside Southern Station!

It's not fully complete yet, but by January it will be full of adorable tables and I just can't even stand how insanely excited we are!!

We'll be dining right in the middle of history, and it will be so romantic!

We will be updating everyone as the renovations continue, hopefully with some pictures soon!

If you want to see some pinspirtation for the party you can check out the blog board: Follow Marvyl's board To Be Triscritti on Pinterest.

Garth. Freaking. Brooks.

There are moments in life that you look forward to so much, that you've built up in your mind for so many years, that once it actually arrives there is no possible way for it to live up to your expectations. Last night was not one of those moments.


The day began with me having an allergic reaction to some fruit salad at a cookout. My tongue swelled up, blisters formed, and I thought to myself, "I'm not dying before I see Garth Brooks."

After a benedryl I wasn't dead, thankfully. I had the remnants of that feeling you get when you drink something that is too hot, too fast but after a few hours the swelling went down.

Then I of course burned my hand on a curling iron (which was really awesome when it was too hot and I immediately put all my long, wedding locks up in a pony tail almost instantly upon arrival.)

A bunch of tiny little mishaps had me in a terrible mood, because THIS was the day I'd been waiting for my entire life. Seriously. From the moment I was born, I was a Garth Brooks fan. I lived and breathed his music every day of my life and today was suppose to be perfect.


To give you a little backstory, Garth was my dad and I's thing. We'd drive around in his truck listening to him, we'd tape his concerts off TV onto old VHS tapes and watch them over and over again. It was one of the strongest aspects of our relationship, and I guess I'd always assumed I'd see Garth with him.

As Fate would have it, that's not how it worked out when Garth arrived in Knoxville. So I got tickets for my best Garth-sing-a-long friend, and we decided to go with the people I consider my second parents. I also got my mom a ticket for Mother's Day, and was really excited we'd get to share this concert.


My mom was an hour late to meeting us for the concert. I hate when people are late. She showed up, and was completely incapacitated. (Most of you can read the subtext here.)

So she couldn't go, and I was completely heartbroken. Such a huge day, and it obviously wasn't important enough.


I called Eric and even though he hates country music, he went with me since I was pretty much devastated that none of my family was going to share this with me.


We parked in the fort and walked our boots across campus and into the arena to find the "TBD" level of the arena was actually the 100 level, and it was behind the stage.

Now, that arena is a dry campus, and it's a good thing everyone in that area wasn't under the influence because they probably would have had a riot on their hands. We were all pretty pissed to be on the back side of a concert that we'd all fought for tickets for and waited you know OUR WHOLE LIVES.

It didn't help that the concert started almost an hour late, but the opening act, Karyn something something (I actually really liked her and knew most of her songs, but I can't for the life of me remember and it's too early to be looking that up) only played three songs.

We all expected Trisha to come out, since that's what we'd all heard happened next, but she didn't. It was just three songs and then BAM. Garth came roaring out with an epic introduction that involved an insane light show and a silhouette build up that gave me goosebumps and almost made me fan-girl cry.



From that point on, I couldn't remember any of the crappy things that had happened up to that point. He was EVERYTHING I imagined him to be, everything I had watched on shitty old VHS from-tv recordings, every documentary and award show...he was all of it.

Funny, wildly energetic, interactive, and humble. He was definitely older, and it showed, but other than his face you'd never had guessed this wasn't his millionth concert.

He played with a fanatic frenzy and joy, as if he'd never seen a crowd go THIS crazy over his songs.

You could tell with every smile, every interaction that he loves his fans, and he's doing this because he loves to perform.

The most impressive part, for me, was when he said, "I'm just like you. I've paid my money to see the people I love, and when I am in those seats I want to hear the old stuff."

Which, may be a silly thing to be impressed by, but DAMN! YES! Thank you Garth!

I fucking want to hear the songs I grew up listening to! I want to hear the songs that made me cry after break ups and the songs my parents would sing me as a baby! I want to sing along with you and this arena, and I can't do that if you're only playing your new stuff.

I freaking appreciated that SO much.

And boy, did he play them. He played every. single. one.

Yeah, he played some of his new album. But for a career spanning 25 years, I honestly have no idea how he managed to play ALL of my favorite songs, including Standing Outside the Fire which I never in a million years guessed he would have played.


He played all the songs I could have asked for, and hearing the entire TBA singing to the River in the darkness was hauntingly beautiful. I'll never forget that moment and the chills it sent down my spine.

He knew what we wanted, and he gave it to us. And he did it in a way that made us feel like we were fueling him, asking him to go on and play them...which fired us up beyond reason. The guy next to us actually ripped off his shirt during Shameless. Not kidding. It was that intense.


There were moments when I was completely speechless. He is a true performer, and his talent is so evident. He still has a voice, and so does Trisha, who joined him on stage for a brief time.

I have a feeling she wasn't feeling well or had lost her voice, as her set was really, really short. But we still got to hear three of my Trish favorites!



Sometimes you build someone up on a pedestal because they've been a huge part of your life. It seems weird to say that a country music star changed my life, but he did. This was number one on my bucket list, and my hopes could not have been any higher.

I don't know how, but he blew my expectations out of the water. There is nothing at all he could have done to make that show any better, any more memorable, or any more of an incredible experience.


He is a true performer, and a true artist.


After the concert we hopped in a cab with two guys from California and showed them the Joe and Waffle House, and they met Jackson. It was really just a perfect night, and I'll never forget it.


Thanks, Garth. You did damn good.

The Maestro of the Big Day and What Middle School Taught Me About Love

I'm going to start this blog off by saying if you're considering not getting a DJ, I need you to reconsider.


Music is one of the most important parts of your big day, and trust me, you do not want to be stressing out over an ipod!

Our DJ is a close friend of ours and a freaking DJ rock star, Jim Ogle of Ogle Entertainment. All of their DJs are the bomb...but he's the best EVAH.

Here is him and his gorgeous family.

And you need to know that the DJ is not just playing your music...he's the Maestro of your symphony. He's going to be directing the flow of the evening and getting the party started. It's important to have a professional who can handle your drunk relatives requesting Free Bird for the millionth time, and someone who can deal with anything that might come up.

Ogle Entertainment definitely knows how to make a wedding a huge success, and I honestly couldn't see anyone else being there for us on our wedding day.

That being said, Jim has already been awesome handling my over-obsessive, super picky music issues and also has helped calm me down with things that are not even wedding related. He told Eric he's the back up when I get too out of control, and he's already been called to the front line. PS....we're still SEVEN MONTHS AWAY.

Anyway, if you're thinking about opting out of the DJ part of your day, reconsider and check out Special Notes by clicking here. 

That being said, here is how I came to pick our music.




I grew up with a bizarre musical environment.

My mother played oldies and country, as well as barbershop. My dad played rock and roll, Ozzy, and Hank Williams Jr. while we drove around his red El Camino.

I didn't really hear any pop music until I was in my teens, which eventually transformed into angsty pop punk in my high school days.

Music has always been a huge part of my life, and unfortunately I was cursed with the inability to sing a note so I turned to band.

I played saxophone for 16 years and attempted lessons in guitar, lap harp, and violin (without much success).

I'm the type of person who has to pull over on the side of the road when I hear certain songs because they make me bawl my eyes out, and if a movie has a good score you can bet I'm going to be a wreck by the end of it.

So picking the music for our wedding has been...challenging. How do you choose your defining songs??


From the time you're born, music tells you exactly what love is and you use it the rest of your life to express heartbreak and butterflies and all the horrible, wonderful phases of love.


At every phase of my life there was a song that defined every moment of my relationships.


When I was in elementary school, I hadn't been in love but thanks to Garth Brooks I knew exactly how it was suppose to go down and how I felt hearing what it was like to have your heart broken. I felt prepared. Thanks, Country Music.
 


My freshmen year I had about a million feelings about everything, and Bright Eyes seemed to sum them all up perfectly. #angst

 
Yasssss, Conor. Tell me about love!


In high school a boy made me a mix that had a Dashboard Confessional song on it that I listened to on repeat that entire summer and was convinced I was madly in love.

 
Ohh, teeeeenagggeeee loveeeee. 


And then two people pummeled all over my heart, and I couldn't listen to music for about eight months. So I fell in love with NPR and it helped me through life until I could be a real person again.

My first rebound to that relationship was maybe not the best decision, but we did dance in the kitchen to 1940s jazz, and I'll remember that night forever.




In college I found someone I believed to be my soulmate, and I sobbed hysterically as we said goodbye to each other on the stairs of someone's house after a pool party.

He played Summer Skin as we sat together and cried, and I was certain that at that moment in time, my heart just burst into a million pieces and it would never come back together.
 



But you know, it does eventually and then you meet someone and you dance to Grease and the world changes.


 

The weird thing is, when you find it, you realize that all of those songs were background noise. You hear the right song with the right person, and it all seems like you were just changing the station and then BAM.


So I spent the past few months searching for the right songs for us, because all of my all time favorites seemed to fall short of saying everything I felt, everything I wanted to say.

It was a super struggle, until I heard it on the radio one day.


While I can't tell you what our first dance will be, because that's a surprise...I can tell you the sound I've found that we're walking down the aisle to.


You can click here to hear it.


Songs about love are all different at different moments in your life, but they're all important in making you who you are, and what sweet music it is to hear the song of the person you're meant to sing and dance with forever.

I think nine year old me, and sixteen year old me, and 90 year old me would approve of my chosen love song.

He's pretty swell.

#bodyborabora

Prepare yourself for a blog adventure of fitness we've deemed Body Bora Bora.

 

Yeah, I know. BUT I'M DOING IT ANYWAYS.


My brave and supportive fiance has agreed to do this along with me, and although I can't speak for him, I can give you an account of what he said and what he looked like via GIFs.


Day 1
Against my stern warning, Eric insisted we have dinner pre-workout.

He ate entirely too much sushi and drank too much sake, and when we got home he hopelessly attempted a nap to help his situation.

Pro-tip...it didn't.

I actually made it through all 30 minutes of the work out for the first time, and although it was painful, it wasn't nearly as bad as the first time I tried.

Results:

Marvyl Eric

Marvyl "Ok, I'm not dead."
Eric "YOU DID THIS TO ME AND I FEEL HORRIBLE." <--How I felt two days ago



Day 2
Honestly, I didn't expect Eric to continue to day two but I guess my delicious fruit/protein smoothies convinced him it might be worth it.

The second day of the program is a three mile "steady run".

I haven't seriously run in probably six years, and the combination of my knock knees and asthma usually make it a horrifically painful and miserable experience.

Now, I don't know if it was just the fact my body could barely feel anything from the prior day or if my lungs were too tired to panic, but I made it through the thirty-eight minutes of running (yeah guys, that's like a 13 minute mile) only walking for a minute and a half of it, much to my surprise.

Results:

We were both really sweaty.
 



I was pretty ok until the middle of the night last night when I woke up and couldn't bend my arm. Like, legitimately couldn't bend it.

I was just laying there with a heating pad wrapped around my dainty weakling arm. Eric would have helped, but he couldn't roll over because he was too sore to move, so we just laid there and moaned in agony.

 



Today is a rest day, thank GOD.

To see some awesome smoothie recipes we've been trying, or to see some healthy foods we've been attempting, check out the blog board. You can also see the app we've been using, which you can also find here.


  Follow Marvyl's board To Be Triscritti on Pinterest.