Anticlimatic

My experience in the pageantry world was very short-lived. I took five hours out of my Saturday to drive to LA for my audition. I was sized up and offered to participate. I thought "cool, this is going smoother than I thought." Plus, my measurements were better than I anticipated. I thought they would be 34-27-37 but instead I was 34-26-38. I was only asked to lose one inch in my waist and two in my hips, this is a very doable. However, things took a surprising turn when I called my pageant coordinator for follow up. She offered me the oppertunity to partcipate in the Queen of the Jewel Pageant in Belize. The kicker was that I would be representing San Pedro. I had to decline for three reasons:
#1. As much as I love San Pedro, I am not a San Pedrana.
#2. It would be inconvient, since I'd have to be in Belize for 2 full weeks.
#3. There are other girls that deserve this opportunity and want it much more than I do.
In regards to the Pan American pageant, it was suddenly between Destinee Arnold and myself. Arnold had earlier declined the offer to participate in the PanAmerican Pageant because the pageant coordinator was unable to provide her with a new gown and costume. Upon hearing that I would be the deligate, Ms arnold had a renewed interest in participating in the PanAmerican Pageant. It would just come down to who would be able to come up with the $1500 sponsor first. I said that the Destinee Arnold should do it. After Ms. Arnold was given full reign to represent Belize at the PanAmerican Pageant, she opted to participate in the Queen of the Jewel Pageant instead. The pageant coordinator pleaded with me to participate in the PanAmerican pageant because this debacle would leave Belize without a representative and create ill will among the pageant organizers. After sacrificing my saturday and several desserts I was over the whole ordeal. At the very least, what I've obtained from this minor experience is: I'm kicking butt on my running and I got my little blog material, just as predicted.

Fame Game

I think I've figured out whats wrong with Orange County. In Los Angeles people are trying to be famous, in Orange County people think they are famous. Last night I went to my friends birthday day party at a club in Orange County. For starters, I do not enjoy going to night clubs. I will only go to a club if its someone's birthday or a friend is visiting from out of town. This occasion fit one of my criteria so I enlisted a male friend to dd and we headed up to Orange County. We arrived at the club half an hour late, but no one in the party had arrived yet, with the exception of my cousin Tessa. My girlfriend Sheila and I went to the bathroom to touch up our make up and kill a little time. When Sheila and I returned to the vip table it was over crowded with girls. I hugged the birthday girl and took the last remaining open spot at the table, the head of the table closest to the dance floor. The view was obstructed with balloons so I gently relocated the balloons so I could stand next to Sheila and watch the dj. A girl with platinum blond hair, black roots, scuffed up Louboutins and a bargain boob job leaned into me and said "excuuuse me" I leaned back so she could make her way around me and she promptly planted herself in my prime location, between Sheila and I. Sheila and I exchanged confused looks, then headed for a less crowded spot where we could continue our conversation. Rather than taking a spot in the impact zone like a gentlemen, my dd parked himself next to the booze. So sheila and I stood behind him. It seemed like every 30 seconds a bus boy or cocktail waitress would come rushing through, either rubbing against us or bumping into us. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't have been that much of an inconvenience but in 7 inch heels every bump feels like a death threat. Miraculously, my cousin Tessa had managed to find Sheila and I great seats at the table. The girl that was sitting next to me seemed kinda friendly but a little insane. I just assumed that she was on drugs. She kept trying to push a cupcake onto the guys at the next table for about half an hour. I  think she explained the dilemma of the cupcake about 15 times. I noticed that the pushy social climber from earlier had been banished to the next table. My dd decided it was time to go so I hugged my cousin and the birthday girl good bye. Since I was in the motion of goodbye hugs I decided to hug my new druggy friend, afterall, we had shared such an intimate conversation about cupcakes over the past half hour. When I went in for a hug she leaned back and gave me the most disgusted look, she even through in a finger wave. So I waved bye to her, they she invited me in for a hug, where I expressed a confused look coupled with an eye brow lift and sheepish wave good bye. Turns out she was a "Myspace" celebrity back in the day. Funny, I had no idea that internet celebrities could become washed up.

Trannyfection

I recently resumed my cardio regiment for three reasons:
1. Pool season has officially began.
2. My boyfriend has been losing three pounds a week and I'll get self conscious if he gets too much hotter than me.
3. I'm auditioning for the Miss Pan American Pageant on Saturday.

I always thought there was something off and odd about pageantry, then one of my favorite authors, Sherry Argov,  illustrated it so simply. Argov points out the similarities between a beauty pageant and an agriculture show. "The farmer walks his cow across stage, the cow does a twirl or two to impress the judges. The winning cow is adorned with roses, a sash and sometimes a trophy." So far I've lost three pounds and I have until Saturday to lose another three, before I'm sized up by Doña Whats Her Name. If Doña deems me fit to compete then I will only have to lose another nine more pounds to be at my target beauty queen weight. With a little luck and campaigning, I will have a sash, roses, and trophy of my own so everyone can know how special I am. I figure that since I'm getting older I might as well take advantage of the experience, as it could become quite comical and blogworthy.  And at the very least, it will keep me on track with my cardio regiment.

Pageants have often been scrutinized for making women look like Post Op Trannys. Now an actual Post Op will compete in the most prestigious pageant in the world, Miss Universe. Oh the irony.