I have been training for a bikini competition for what seems to be years, but I’ve really only been training since August. My first show was in November, but I got creamed by the competition and went home with my tail between my legs and vowed to never do it again. That was until Monday came around and I went to the gym. At the gym, I realized I loved lifting weights, so it was that day I decided I would compete again in March. My competition training is not important, it’s the fact I had to step out of the box drastically to do these shows. I was a runner, fitness instructor and a mom, but I had no clue what to expect when the day actually came to compete.
For those of you who don’t know about competitions, everyone, or most everyone, gets a spray tan. I had no clue what that entailed, I just made my appointment and showed up where they told me to go. Ok, so you get in a booth naked. Yes, you read that right, naked. No clothes on, and you are in front of someone. In my case, it was a lady who knew my mom and friends of my mom’s. It was extremely embarrassing. Next comes the actual spray tan, it is cold, awful, smells and you have to stand in front of a blower until it dries. When you leave, you are not allowed to put on undergarments, also a big lesson for me. So, there I was walking back to my hotel with a little more freedom than I had anticipated.
Next, let me explain the shoes. They are clear, they are plastic and they are in some (many) circles considered stripper shoes. Mine came by UPS to my house where my boys raced to meet our friend, the UPS driver. He usually brings things that I haven’t told my husband about! I got the shoes out of the box and because they are plastic, they were shaped kind of funky. So, because I am a genius, I heated them up with a hair dryer to try to reshape them, it worked and they fit. Now please realize all the time I am doing this, my sons are watching.
I believe it was a Tuesday when my son came out of school and informed me that he had told his teacher that I wore clear plastic shoes and a bikini that had rhinestones on it. I probably turned ten shades of red and called my husband with a frantic, “Mrs. Kindergarten Teacher thinks I am a stripper!” He didn’t see why I was upset, and I’m sure he and all of his office mates got a huge chuckle out of my embarrassment. I had to go into the school the next day and explain that I wasn’t a stripper. When kindergarten started, I thought I would have to explain why he picked his nose, occasionally said, “Damn,” or why he didn’t like certain sports teams, but not that I was not a stripper. The teacher was kind, but I’m sure she thinks I’m covering my rear. Let’s be honest folks, I would be the most poorly paid stripper in the world if that were my profession. No one would pay to see me do that job.
My take home message of the day is be warned… kindergartners tell all of our secrets, so sometimes it’s ok to not let your kids be involved in all of your projects. When in doubt, I know explain that the clear heels were delivered to the wrong house and they actually belong to my mother-in-law. As always, be healthy, be fit and don’t let anyone but you define who you are.