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.

Time to Let Go

I recently gave up the company that I created. I put a lot of passion into creating swimwear that the world had never seen before. My goal was to not just create unique designs, but designs that would flatter a woman's figure like none other. However, my passion became my burden when my business partner began to meddle in my personal life. Yes, he was a great and supportive friend, and in all friendships there are up and downs, but the downs just began to mount up into an emotional hoard that the producers at tlc wouldn't dare tackle. So it is with great relief that I walk away from the dysfunction. Since the few days that have passed since announcing my resignation I'm sleeping through the nights again and I lost three pounds without altering my diet or eating habits. As C.S. Lewis said "There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

It Has Begun...

Faithful readers, the time may be approaching when you can say "I knew her way back when." A very famous name in the swimwear industry recently released a design that looks strikingly similar to one of my own. At first I just dismissed it as coincidence until my business partner pointed out that their IP address was searching my site two months ago. Under normal circumstances I would be very upset but for some reason I am flattered that the big dogs are noticing. I like to think that its only a matter of time before the world takes note.

American Woman

I recently read a blog discussing where the best places are to meet good guys. Some said the grocery store, some said church, some even suggested an expensive gym. Then some guy said all this:

[I just thought it was too funny to not share]

"This is a pretty funny post. All the guys are wondering this too!!!! Survey says 98% of guys want a “good and virtuous girl”. The other 2% are tatted up with gauges and bisexual. I am fed up with American women in general, and the world is too. When I studied outside the states American women were always the brunt of the jokes for being slutty, insane (crying, yelling, acting out, etc.), and acting unintelligent. How many girls do you know not on some prescription drug? Aderall, Zoloft, Xanax, ambien?? None of my buddies take pills to cope, but every girl i know does. I live in a house with two other girls, and their purses are like pharmacies and they would even probably tell you they are nuts. Demanding how much their engagement ring should cost and materialist shi*t like this. I would never even think about trying to date them. American Society (reality TV, retarded magazines, fatherless homes and feminist colleges) has bred materialistic women who are incredibly superficial. Guys like class and you can’t buy it at nordstroms or with some +2′s. We have some of the most beautiful girls in America, but the most morally bankrupt and obnoxious as well. The overall American cultural recession is much worse than the economic recession. If I were to do the internet dating thing, I wouldn’t even check my surrounding area. I would look in France, Germany, Spain, Ireland and Utah."

Everyone Loves You

I recently went to a Chargers game with my girlfriends, amidst all the cheering and beer runs something stood out to me. There was a family in front of us. A young attractive mother and her adorable eight-year-old daughter were sitting in the seats in front of me. As the game went on the little girl stood on the seat of her chair yelling "Gooo Chaaaargers!" It was kinda cute and I didn't mind because I could still see over the top of her head. A couple times she would turn around and proudly announce "I'm a cheerleader." My friends and I just smiled to acknowledge her. Periodically her mother would lean over and say "you are sooo special" or "everyone loves you." When the Chargers Girls came out to preform during half time they did this sexy routine where they would bend over, flip their hair back, fall on the ground and throw their legs in the air, then the dad would say to the little girl "thats gonna be you someday." I chuckled to myself. The dad even asked us if "we've ever seen a prettier little girl in the whole world?" Meanwhile her two brothers seemed nearly nonexistent. This whole observation of family dynamics seemed so foreign to me. I was never groomed to be loud, sexy and ultra confident during my upbringing, but neither was I ignored for three hours at a time.  Oh well, to each their own.