I’ve been thinking about something today, because I’ve been somewhat in the lime-light today at work. I ended up making an Easter hat for the contest, and I had to wear it and march in a parade with my fellow contestants around the office, showing everyone in their cubicles and offices our hat-tastic creations.
So, I’m quite a coordinated person. Seriously, for my height, I could be much more frighteningly lurpy. I’ve always been fairly adept with a basketball or volleyball, and I haven’t really tripped over my own feet since I was, you know, trying to learn to walk as a wee one. And even as a model, strutting my stuff on the runway, clumsiness was never an issue. I remember once I was doing a swimwear show in LA, and all of the guys in the show, in an effort to make us notice their rippling muscles even more, rubbed baby oil all over themselves. (Which to me seemed a bit like beating a dead horse. But I digress.) Now, for them, if they’re feet are slippery, no biggie, right? They’re not wearing shoes. But us girls, we were in our swimwear and four inch stilettos, and walking on a catwalk slick with oil was demoralizing. Someone even fell. But the point I’m trying to get at here is that it wasn’t me.
So yeah. I’m coordinated, I can walk in a straight line, maybe even if I was drunk! But today, with that goofy hat on my head (that weighs nearly as much as I do, I’m afraid) I transformed into the nerd in the talent show you all avert your eyes to while they pathetically warble out a Blink 182 song so that you don’t laugh. Or cry. Today was supposed to be my day! I could feel it – the first stirrings of self esteem that resulted from the strained recesses of my brain that made that damn Easter bonnet. But then I blew it by looking like a moron in the parade. Pish.
So what was it that you think made me transform into a mute geek? Was it the hat? It had to be. I’m used to people staring at me, but it’s usually because I look somewhat decent in couture on the runway. I’ve never worn an Easter bonnet. At least in public. Was this my downfall? Can I only have confidence when I feel pretty? That sucks. Because everyday, as my mom always tells me, (even though she's a totally hot older woman) my looks are going to go, and one day I’ll wake up all old and wrinkled and saggy, and that might even be more damaging to my self esteem than wearing an Easter bonnet for the rest of my life.
Well shoot. I either need more (always more, more, more!) self esteem.
Or maybe some botox?
[They’re announcing the winner of the contest very soon. I’ll keep you updated.]