I Woke Up Like This: Flawed

“I woke up like this….”

Tasha-113“I woke up like this….”

Apr11untitled727If there was a DJ playing this song, here’s where you’d hear the scratch because, honestly, I woke up like this….

Photo Oct 19, 8 13 11 AMGlasses on, braids up, in my Justin Timberlake t-shirt, no earrings, no lip gloss, roaming through the kitchen, looking for breakfast.

Accepting that I would never be perfect has been one of the most difficult challenges I have faced.  I think I was born a perfectionist.  I was a straight A student, won just about everything I entered and lived to please my parents.  And my after school teachers.  And the girls in the “A” crowd whom I wanted to please.  And my sister.  And my aunts and uncles.  And my grandmothers.  Maybe I wasn’t a perfectionist at all.  So let me start again.

Accepting the fact that I could never please everyone in my life has been one of the most difficult challenges I have faced.  When you’re the trainer, the blogger, the choreographer, the teacher, the coach, the mom, the wife, the personality behind Instagram, when you’re the one people tell you they search for daily for inspiration, the pressure to be flawless is for real.  And social media made me feel like I needed to get fully dressed in my best Under Armour gear (down to the shoes), with the bomb protein shake in my hand with no hair out of place before I even sat down at the keyboard.  People wanted me to document my workouts, my food, (I have been asked to document everything that I eat every day so that it  could be copied down to the grains of rice on more than one occasion), my playlists, my choreography, how many clients I trained in a day (complete with pictures), how long I held downward facing dog when I was teaching a class and could I help them look, think, and be like me. When you do this for a living, you are in a position where part of you is public and these are not really unusual requests.


I started to feel the pressure when I being criticized for my answers by the very people who asked them.

It’s true (o.k. here comes a confession) I love God with everything but he is still working on me over my personal workout playlist.  I love Lecrae.  I promise I do.  But I work out to Jay Z, T.I. and Tupac. I love downward facing dog.  But there are some classes where I don’t even do that pose.  There are days that I don’t train.  There are days that I don’t exercise.  There are days that I don’t feel beast mode.  I feel bed mode.  I feel beat up mode.  There are days that I’ve eaten popcorn for dinner.  Or tablespoons of peanut butter.  I don’t drink a protein shake every day. I only take pictures of my clients for special reasons.  Sometimes my choreography isn’t set. I make it up on the spot.



And when the people pleasing part of me came head to head with the raw, unadulterated flawed Tasha, it got ugly. Real ugly. I didn’t want to blog.  My social media posts became random. I literally became exhausted when I thought about writing anything.  I’d end up reading other people’s tweets for two hours, hoping their words would sound better than mine (really banking on it) and I’d be inspired to say something “witty” because that’s what people expected of me.

Flawed Tasha said, “Tell the truth.  Tell YOUR truth.  This is YOUR voice.  And with that, I surrendered the mask, for good.  I surrendered trying to find a recipe for the best cookies to blog about because I don’t bake.  I surrendered trying to post about increasing your weight on your squat because even though I’m a trainer that’s not my specialty nor my interest.  I surrendered taking thirty five selfies to lie and say how flawless I am because from any angle you take my picture, I still need to work on my obliques, I still have stretch marks and my skin is going through this dry spell.  (But my glutes are amazing, my shoulders are looking good and I still have my Guys-N-Dolls dance team smile! Just saying.)


I feel like I can breathe.  I feel like I can write.  I feel like I can just be my flawed self and all of who I am come through without a filter.  I know that my words will reach who they are supposed to reach, how they are supposed to reach them.

Being authentic is what’s up.

This entry was posted in 2014, body image, motivational, self-inquiry. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to I Woke Up Like This: Flawed

  1. Anntronett says:

    Amazing! This is probably my favorite post thus far. Perfectly- imperfect. I love your transparency. No one is perfect. Our role models aren’t great because they’re never off their game, never get disappointed, never feel bad emotions, or never have trials. They’re great because they push on despite all of these things. It’s great when leaders such as yourself are transparent. It’s a reminder that its okay to be human- flawed- imperfect…because at the end of the day we all are.

    • HipHealthyChick says:

      Thank you, Sister. We are ALL flawed. Every last one of us. If life were perfect we could be too but there is no such thing do we do the best that we can, live and share and rock our truth. 🙂 (((((HUGS)))))

  2. Claudia Silva says:

    I work at a gym where I have been subbing for 8 months, and even though the members LOVE my style, I was denied the opportunity to teach a class when 2 openings came up because, as the GF director put it “you teach a very traditional Zumba class” wth?!! How else is Zumba supposed to be taught?! Keep it traditional people! 70% Latin rhythms. Feel the music when you make your choreos, love the song you’re creating a routine to and 1- you’ll never forget your steps, and 2- you’ll rock every song!