The Badass Body Diet: The Breakthrough Diet and Workout for a Tight Booty, Sexy Abs, and Lean Legs
Authors: Christmas Abbott
Tags: #Health & Fitness, #Diet & Nutrition, #Diets, #Exercise, #Weight Loss
For my mother, Barbara
From you I inherited my great tenacity for loving life, embracing what I believed in, and never accepting anything less than what I wanted no matter what hand I was dealt. Your strength and passion are unmatched in this world. You will always be my hero and purest inspiration.
CONTENTS
3. My PREP Strategy for Success
5. Step-by-Step Meal Planning: Your Nutritional Blueprint
6. The Badass Meal Plans for Minimalists
7. The Badass Meal Plans for Modifiers
8. The Badass Meal Plans for Maintainers
9. The Badass Meal Plans for Gainers
10. The Badass Body Diet Recipes
PART 3: THE 12 MINUTES OF CHRISTMAS: WORK YOUR BUTT OFF
11. Better Your Booty with Ass-tounding Exercises
PART 4: LIVING THE BADASS LIFESTYLE
ALL DAY LONG, I
hear from women who crave a round, neat booty that looks fabulous in and out of clothes, but don’t know how to get it. A lot of them even go for crazy quick fixes, like padded pants or silicone undies designed to push up the butt like a padded bra pushes up boobs, and some even have cosmetic surgery to get a butt lift.
Are you one of these women? You don’t have to step forward or raise your hand, but are you obsessing over your lower body? Would you rip the bottoms out of some old jeans if you tried to wriggle into them? Are you hiding your lower body under long black skirts? Has another trip to the clothing store ended in frustration and fury at being unable to find anything that fits?
Can you relate? I can! I get your frustration. We women tend to carry more fat in our booty than men do. Sure, this extra wad of fat is great for baby making, but it’s horrible for bikini wearing—or for catching an eye for baby making. We want so badly to change our hips and buttocks, and overall body. In fact, we’re obsessed with the idea.
We can do it easily, naturally while having FUN, I say.
For too long, experts have told us that having a large booty and soft lower body
protects
a woman’s health. Totally not true! For the first time in book form, I’m going to rip through that myth and reveal why firming up your butt will not only give you a sexy body, it will also give you a stronger heart, more functional mobility, and a lot of other benefits that no one has talked about until now. I’ve decoded the female anatomy and figured out how we can conquer that defiant fat on our butts, and in doing so, achieve strength, power, and sexy curves from head to toe. Oh, and did I mention confidence?
No fitness book has adequately addressed what to do about a saggy, flat, flabby butt—which is why I wanted to write my first book on this often-neglected topic. For many years now, I feel that the fitness world has been overly focused on tummies. There’s a flood of books out there about how to eat and exercise for flat abs. I’m so sick of all the “flat belly” programs out there. They just create skinny-fat girls instead of strong toned bodies, and not much else. When you focus on your booty, the rest of your body—including your belly—gets thin and fit too.
Oh, and besides the fixation on bellies, there’s the boob thing. Talk about sensory overload. Guys have been so overexposed to boobs, in girlie magazines, music videos, and busty tight tops, that breasts have lost their special fascination. But the butt . . . ah, it’s much sexier. And guess what? It was a sexual turn-on in ancient times, long before breasts ever were. Anthropologists—scientists who study old bones—will tell you that in cave people days, humans mated the way all other mammals still do—from the rear. That’s right. The sexiest chicks back then were those with the nicest butts.
Today, we’ve come full circle: Men’s eyes are back on the original “breast,” the butt. In fact, researchers from the University of Texas did some brain scans of men, only to observe that the pleasure-reward sites in their brains lit up when they viewed pictures of women’s booties.
Butts are the new boobs! Butts are the sexy of all time.
Several years ago, I started doing magazine shoots. It was around that time that my own butt began to attract a lot of attention. I humbly admit that my bottom is tight and perky. If I walked backward into a room, people would check it out perhaps with a smirk. My booty is the one part of my body that is a staple of looking pretty good. Not a bad thing, really. Hair has its good days and bad days. And depending on what I eat, my tummy is either presentable or not. But my butt is always in good shape no matter how the rest of me looks or feels, and the rest of my body is my booty’s accessory. Women want to know my secrets for achieving this level of definition, tone and sculpted booty. I’m unveiling my secrets here for that tight booty!
What you may not realize is that the butt is one of the easiest body parts to transform. It is a simple equation to master: the right diet + some kick-ass (excuse the pun) workouts = a sexy rear view that stands out loud and proud in every outfit. No padded jeans or underwear needed for a booty-licious body!
In case you’re wondering how this book came about, let me give you a quick rundown. For the past ten years, I’ve built a career in the fitness industry that has involved owning a gym, training moms, young and old athletes, grandmothers, celebrities, Olympians, and others. I give nutrition seminars all over the world, and I compete in fitness and Olympic weightlifting competitions. Along the way, I was the first woman to be a full-time member of a NASCAR pit crew in the highest level Cup series, changing superheavy tires on race cars as fast as I could.
After I hung up my NASCAR firesuit and put away my tire-changing air wrench, I devoted my life to inspiring people to get in shape and realize the bodies of their dreams.
But let me say this: My butt and my body—and indeed my life—wasn’t always in such great shape. The fundamental problem I had was that I did not believe in myself. I struggled with self-doubt as a kid. I was angry and unhappy, and I didn’t feel worthy of love. I had no self-worth, and all I could see were obstacles in from of me. I abused my body with alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes.
I was not always the Christmas Abbott you see today.
Then, through some amazing experiences, I stopped playing small and insignificant. I grew in confidence and changed not just my body but my whole life in a positive way.
Let me share my story. I hope it will inspire you to create the body and the fulfillment you want in your own life.
WHO AM I?
I was a Christmas baby, born December 20.
Bet you guessed that one. While pregnant with me, my mom had to stay in bed for several months in order to avert a miscarriage. Even in the womb, I guess I was damn determined to be a part of this world, and so I punched right out, much to the delight of my mom. In gratitude, she named me Christmas Joye. I was teased and made fun of a lot because of that name, so I kept to myself a lot and was a quiet but happy little girl.
I was raised mostly in Lynchburg, Virginia, the middle child in a family with three kids. We lived in a range of homes, mostly lower income, but moved around quite often, always roaming with my father’s job. My brother slept in a hallway of our house; my sister and I shared a bed at one point, but at least we had a bedroom. I lived a nomadic lifestyle from the get-go, surrounded by bikers and hippies.
Since childhood, I’ve always been a contradiction. I loved to wear dresses, but I also loved to climb trees. At age nine, I wanted to play baseball rather than girls’ softball—not to make a gender-related statement, but because a baseball fit better in my small hand. The league I tried to join originally told me I couldn’t play. Only after my mother threatened to tell the media about the issue did they let me on the team as the only girl. I was also a cheerleader at the same time. But after that, my athletic career ended, and by the time I was a teenager, I was no longer involved in sports.
Growing up, I was never pushed to do much, although I was raised in a loving household. I didn’t think anyone had any big dreams for me; I certainly had none for myself. I just felt that I wouldn’t be something or do anything important or even impressive. As a result, I couldn’t do anything without making a mess of it. So I didn’t play sports, I didn’t study, I didn’t do much of anything productive. I couldn’t find one thing that I excelled at or that gave me confidence. I turned into a troubled child and felt destined to be complacent at life. I became a wild child.
At age 13, I was in a horrific car accident. I got out alive with only a scar on my hand, while my sister, Kole, landed in a coma and almost died. The doctors said she wouldn’t last through the night. But she did. Then they said she wouldn’t wake up. But she did. Then they claimed she would never walk again. But she did.
Thank God, Kole healed—a testimony to the toughness for which the women in my family are known. Still, I was angry about what happened to my sister, and I felt guilty. I had to undergo therapy. It helped somewhat, but there were residual emotional scars.
As a teenager, I started smoking and drinking. I partied as much as possible at every opportunity—which was often. Some people I was hanging out with were experimenting with some heavy-duty drugs, and I went right along with them. Little by little, I was digging myself deeper into a hole of despair.
I was in a downward spiral, depressed and on a one-way track to addiction.
I tried the college scene for about a year, subsisting on ramen noodles for food, but the tuition was too expensive to pay up front. I didn’t have the funds to go full time without a loan, and I didn’t want any debt.
By then my mother had left for Iraq, working as a civilian, and convinced me to apply for a job there too. I was hired. At age 22, I followed her to Baghdad and took a job in the city’s International Zone, once home to Saddam Hussein’s ministries and palaces. I was still smoking, drinking, and grossly out of shape, living on the fringe of a very dangerous lifestyle.
I was employed as a laundry attendant to support the US military. Soldiers would bring me their laundry. I’d sort it, ticket it, and issue it back to them when clean. That’s what I did 12 hours a day, every day, in a desert war zone.
It was a scary time, with the sound of mortar fire and powerful explosions reverberating all around me constantly, as if heaven and earth had collided. Plumes of smoke would darken the sky, dust swirled into our eyes, and we’d all run for cover. Each time, my heart felt like it had leaped out of my chest.
I realized that if or when something happened, there were two possibilities. The military would carry me out with them, or they would leave me there. The likelihood of someone carrying me into safety in that environment was slim to none. I’d be abandoned there, because I’d be too weak to escape on my own.
The possibility of death was ever-present. It was in the midst of a mortar attack that I realized where I was in my life—not geographically, but rather lifestyle-wise. For too long, I had recklessly taken risks with my health, and I knew if I wasn’t careful they’d be the cause of my demise. In short, I was killing myself with my own bad habits. In one of those “life’s too short” epiphanies, it hit me that I have choices. I thought:
Am I better than this? I don’t have to live this way, and I don’t want to die.
