Morning Show Survived!

So I'm blogging right away this time. First, because I have time to kill while I let coat #3 of Jan Tana dry. Second, because I don't want to forget the little details. Considering that I was one of the oldest ladies on the stage, my memory may be the foggiest!

Okay. So I got there right on time. Found a seat in the auditorium and waited and waited for the meeting to start. Got to scope out the competition. Immediately, I felt out of place. What I saw were girls in their twenties, who appeared adept and comfortable with the application of hair extensions, false eyelashes, and stage make-up. Gulp. I also saw, of course, extremely buff guys, who were, for the most part, inept at applying self-tanners. But that only reinforces their manliness, right?

I felt better when Trainer Jill arrived, who luckily is NOT my competition. She's in the lightweight bodybuilder category. From the posted list, she alone ruled her category. Nice. I wish my only competition was with myself. But no. I scanned the list and counted Bikini Short. There were about 20. And when I saw them backstage, I saw that none of them had nasty-loose-mommy skin around their taut tummies. I became so self-conscious that I nixed any front poses that required me to take my hands away from my pull-the-skin-taut-to the-hips. These girls were also quite comfortable with their bodies, proceeding to immediately strip to the buff in front of complete strangers. Why should they care? They were, like a hot, young Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way. Apparently, they also never grew pubic hair. (Okay, okay-- in truth they were pretty tough chicas, because I can only imagine the pain of waxing or lasering 100% of the nether regions.) Looking around, I decided for the one millionth time that my boobs were the best purchase I ever made-- it was one less thing to be self-conscious or embarrassed about.

Once in line for my turn, I overheard a coach pep-talking her clients. She was explaing the walk, and since the pre-meeting did not explain anything about where or how we were to walk on stage, I innocently inquired to this woman about that protocol. Her look let me know I needed to pay her to receive an answer, but she gave me a brash, "Do whatever you've practiced," before returning to her golden children. Two other girls in the line complimented each other and relished in their reunion. At the last show they had been in together, the one had placed 1st, the other 2nd. They were now officially Bikini BFFs. I wondered how sincere any competition friendship can be when, let's face it, every girl is your competition. I scanned the line for someone who looked as nervous as I felt. Found that girl and traded small talk about this being our first competition. Still, I felt like a fish out of water. I wondered briefly, "Is it too late to turn and run?" These girls, it seemed like pageantry was in their blood. They were so excited; they were so confident. They gave each other little pep talks, "You are the hottest! Look at those judges in the eye-- they think you're the best!" The other girl would nod, take a deep breath, then sweep onto the stage with a hip-popping strut. I tried to dig deep into my theatre arts background. "Pretend, Christy. Pretend you ARE one of these girls. Pretend you are confident. Pretend you are comfortable up here. Pretend that you love this; that this is the most fun you've ever had in your life."

And then it was my turn. All I remember is wishing my hands weren't so oily from the body glaze so that it was easier to pull my tummy taut. I remember wondering why the hell my lip was twitching while I was smiling. I remember arching my back so much on those back poses that I thought I might spasm and have to be carried off the stage in a stretcher. I remember a couple shout-outs, "Go, Christy!" One was my trainer's husband in the front row. I saw my good friend Emily & felt so grateful for her support. I saw my kids climbing the wall in the back of the auditorium, which meant my hubby was somewhere out there, even if I couldn't see him. I remember the two female judges, because they were the only ones who smiled at me and made me feel at ease. One was obviously a bodybuilder, but she seemed to have a heart of soft stuff, because her smile was motherly and encouraging. I wondered what exactly they were analyzing when they studied my body up and down. What were they jotting down with their #2 pencils?

First, I went on for Bikini Open, then Bikini Natural. In Bikin Open, I was one of 7. Decent odds, but I'm still not banking on placing. In Bikini Natural, I was one of 20. Terrible odds. And I KNOW I didn't place. I could tell when they asked 5 of us to go the side of the stage that I was in the bottom 5. I whispered to the girl next to me, "Well, that was fun." It was torture to stand there while they tried to determine placings for the other 15 girls. One girl said, "That's not what that means. They'll bring us back on; there's just too many of us." I'm thinkin', "Hello-- then they'd split us into two groups of 10, not one group of 15 and one of 5." But they did bring us back on, probably to get a final ranking on the losers.

Well, it's time for me to get ready for the evening show. As soon as I left the morning show, I drove to Robert's crafts and bought a blinger thinger. Got home, ate my salad, then stripped off my bikini and got to work bedazzling. I hated that I had been the plainest girl on stage. I also applied another coat of tanner, because even though I am the darkest girl naturally, I was way lighter than everyone else. Not gonna worry about the hair this time, but next week, I'm hoping my adorable little sis (who has done a pageant) can put her extensions in my hair and make it nice and fluffy for me.

Night show, here I come. Even though they say, "Everyone's a winner," it's hard to believe it when you don't go home with a trophy. But at least I've had this experience, the support of the most amazing people in my life, & the best body I've ever had, even if it's not the best body on the stage.