...I don't get it. I mean, not really. If I did everything I was afraid to do, I'd jump in a swamp where I know crocodiles are plentiful. I don't think facing a challenge solely because you're afraid of it is quite where the mentor was going. But if we scale it back a bit, could we agree that the advice could instead be, "Don't miss the opportunity just because you're scared"? That's closer to home for me. I try really hard not to make decisions based in fear - which is why I found myself modeling in a recent fashion show.
I think it's pretty well-established how I dislike being the center of attention. In fact, I wrote another entire blog entry on it and now admit freely what an introvert I am. To say that modeling is not in my comfort zone is like saying that North Dakota gets a little chilly in the winter time.So when I was first asked if I would model, I emphatically and without hesitation replied "NO. I mean, no thank you." (because I always try to be polite) But then I was asked again and, here's the kicker, was told that this would really help because someone had backed out.
Now, if you met the lady asking, you'd see why I had to reverse my stance. She's possibly the nicest person I've ever met and she was shouldering the burden of organizing this event of her own free will. Who am I to make life harder for her? Then too, I thought, you can't say no just because you're scared, you chicken. So, I said yes with, I'm sure, a look of utter horror on my face.
Unfortunately, saying you're going to do something and then actually going through with it are two different things. Leading up to the day of the show, I had nightmares about all of the bad things that could happen. I could kick off one of my shoes and be unable to find it again. I don't wear flip flops for this reason, but I'd be wearing them in the show. Obviously, forgetting to put on an outfit came up. I woke up from that one in a cold sweat, but really, how ridiculous. Someone would surely stop me before I got all the way to the runway and suggest I put on a dress. I obsessively worried about my big toe, which is damaged and can't look good in a sandal. I fretted about my hair as I don't even own a hair dryer anymore. I cursed myself for not keeping makeup as well.
A couple of days before the event, we had to go try things on and that part brought the fear home. Now it was real. I knew exactly what I'd be wearing and how exposed I would be.
It doesn't really help that my body has changed so dramatically over the last year. It's for the better, but it's new and weird. My body image has not kept pace. I still see myself about 30 pounds heavier than the scale says I am. And all of that would be on display? I resolve to stop eating until three days later. (An aside: this did not happen)
Anywho! The day arrives. The waiting is over. I do the best I can with Mother Nature's hair dryer and the mascara and eye liner I refuse to give up. Don't judge me, but I painted my nails and the big toe got some extra to cover up the imperfect pedicure. Poor toe, it's not its fault, after all. A little lipstick and I go for it! Well, not quite. The models get to eat AND DRINK first, so I go for a bottle of the red liquid courage. I'm completely terrified at this point, but there's no going back. People are counting on me now. There's an official list and everything! I figure I could faint, but that's probably the only way out of this now. I take deep breath and remind myself that I know these ladies. They're nice people and won't be mean to me. Once changed, I feel even worse. The fainting is not just an idea anymore. It might actually happen. I realize that I have either had too much or too little wine. I feel a little dizzy but I'm far too aware of it.
As I'm standing in line, waiting to hit the runway, I'm told there's a pattern to walk. NOW they tell me? I go into serious panic mode and frantically repeat the instructions and ogle the other models to see what they are doing. I mean, what if I had been first?! Clearly, in their wisdom, no one was going to let that happen. Unfortunately, there's a lot of waiting at this stage and that allows me time to ramp up the insanity within. I try to remember yoga breathing, but it's no good. I'll be lucky if I don't vomit on these beautiful clothes. And yes, that was in one of the nightmares.
Honestly, the first three outfits are a blur to me. I remember pasting a smile on my face and moving through the room, changing quickly and getting back out there. It's a blessing, really, that I had an out of body experience. I am there, but nothing is registering. I see but don't see the people. I know they are there and smiling kindly at me, even giving me thumbs up, but I really can't engage. I had to be told later that my husband and daughter had come to show their support.
And then, blissfully, the wine started to kick in a bit. The last three outfits were more fun. I was a bit looser, the smile more genuine. Of course, I was also thinking that it was more than halfway over, which definitely helped. And then, just like that, it's over and I'm back in my own clothes. I didn't lose a shoe or fall down or even throw up! Success!I can't say that I have bettered myself through this experience, but at least I did it and I did not die (I mean, it could happen and, in fact, did in one of my nightmares). I'm not eager to get back out there and have all of the eyes in a room on me, but I did not let the fear stop me. Oh! And I got a huge discount at the store of the sponsor, which resulted in a nifty shopping spree. I wouldn't have gotten that any other way.
The moral of this story is to try things not because you will be changed by them, necessarily. But rather, do them because you won't know what you might have gotten if you don't. I got a bit more confidence in my appearance and a great new pair of shoes - instead of the regret of not doing something that really helped someone out just because I was nervous. The payoff at the end of this experience was that I did something I was terrified to do. And now, if I'm asked if I want to model for someone I can emphatically say, "No, thank you."
