Voluptuous Goddess Pageant: Practice Makes Insecurity


For some INSANE reason I believe subconsciously to the core of my being I should be on stage. Acting, singing, whatever, it’s just this core self thought that won’t go away. I can’t tell you how many times I have bombed an audition.

I cannot tell you how many times some one has loudly said, “Uh THANK YOU. NEXT!”

I cannot express to you the hurt I felt when someone professional, who I was close with, told me I was “too big and too tall” to get a lead role, no matter what I learned vocally. I would ALWAYS be cast as the old woman, or the domineering strong female background character.

Oh the giggles and taunts. People waiting outside my practice room telling me to hurry up, real singers want the room.

Oh yes, yes, it all resides in the brain. The memories.

I have horrible, jarring stage fright. Once again, it goes back to not being good enough.

Did you know some one put into my child mind, that I do not deserve to go to Heaven when I die? I have possibly the worst fights with myself over my self-worth.

That little girl my parents largely ignored, that my mother smacked around, that my father was too tired to notice, that little girl who was preyed upon by that child predator, that girl, she still resides in my mind.

I have this dream where there is a little me in a filthy room alone, torn up and crying. I clean, and clean, and mend her clothes, I feed her and hold her as she just stares ahead and weeps. She never changes.

Poor thing. I can’t go back and fix all that for myself. I can’t put another complexion on it. There isn’t a way. She isn’t me anymore though, and though I now know what to do, as I said I can’t go back. It doesn’t do to dwell on dreams Harry.

There is though a life time of me working towards better. Better for me (and better for CDubs.). One way is to realize while I am not moving my behind to California, in hopes of my big break 20 years too late; I can take steps to shake up my world a little.

I have to keep trying. Even if my voice completely gives out in fear. Even if I shake to pieces and forget to breathe while I sing (that happens to people, don’t scoff).

Even if I dress to the nines and everyone expects the music teacher to be amazing and…. She’s not.

Even if I end up on YouTube as Watch the Worst Pageant Singer In The World! Click Here!

I’m going to try.

I forgot that today, when after school, I went through the song quickly and bombed. I beat my self up too. Went home and practiced more. Screwed up more.

Gave up and ate dinner and my husband said “I told you that song is too hard to learn right now. You need something easier.”

Which he didn’t, and he says this to me, the day after I emailed my song selection to the coordinator, so it’s too late.

I got so mad. He does stuff like that. Then he tells me I need to go practice more, which is true. So I break up the song. Sing with the recorded singer, switch to the instrument only track, switch back to the singer, and so forth.

I realized tonight being pissed makes you sing better. Meowing cats don’t. I guess Evie wanted to help. I also remembered my voice teacher saying vocalists have to enunciate and move their face a lot to be heard correctly and to sometimes mimic style. So I was very expressively singing to the cupboards in the kitchen. (Furthest point from CDubs’s bed room)

My throat hurts a little but, husband made me two glasses of mint tea (mint leaves steeped in water). I am feeling better now, and my confidence is up a bit.

A bit. Practice reveals the truth, I’ve got a ways to go by Saturday, and I’d really like to imagine myself singing in front of everyone and do a YouTube so you can tell me what you think.

Not to mention, I have 2 formal gowns (I hope) that I want to run by you all. (For the formal wear walk)

So much to do but as Mrs. Z said:

“A lot of people are too afraid to do this.”

I am doing my best to not be one of them!

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Voluptuous Goddess Pageant: What Was I Thinking?!

It was the end of October, possibly the beginning of November when I was approached by the beautiful Mrs. Z. This woman is beautiful. 5’4″ curvy, bronzed clear skin, perfect make up and hair, on point outfits with those amazing little touches only she could make, this woman made a cheerleading tutu out of multi colored mesh squares. Instead of looking utterly ridiculous she made it come together some how; and all the kids wanted one (faculty basketball game for students), she is just flawless.

So, as I said Mrs. Z sashayed up to me and confidently, almost trivially, laid out this plan for a Plus Sized Woman’s Beauty pageant. I gave her the sideways squint of, “a Pageant, here? Like glitter and ball gowns, and sponsors and…”

She assured me oh no, no, not like that! She gave me this image of togetherness and friendly competition and of course the eventual crowning of a winner.

“Sounds fun.” I remark, thinking perhaps she wants me to spread the word, get Ry to run sound, ask the band to perform (which I sincerely hoped was not the case!).

“It is! All you need to do is sign up with a basic contract, and pay a $25 holding fee and you’re set!”




After that largely pregnant pause, she explained it would consist of 3 parts, a parade, a talent portion, and a favorite outfit portion.

The dusty gears in my brain worked themselves furiously trying to get my brain started. Me? Compete? Talents? What?

Maybe it was the look in her eyes, a sort of please say yes, it will be fun look; maybe it was a momentary lapse of sanity, either way, I agreed.

“I’ll get you the contract/ waver as soon as I can!” She squealed, “I finally have a Caucasian girl in the pageant!”

Mildly amused, we part ways for duties and such.

Weeks pass, no mention of a contract, nothing. Then one day she comes up, bedazzled in holiday perfection,”Did you get my email over Thanksgiving?”

Maybe? I was so sick, I honestly didn’t remember.

Students were sent as little pages back and forth from our kingdoms during study hall (let’s be honest, if a student refuses to study and all actions are taken and they are still drawing in their notebooks… Sending them on an errand isn’t a horrific thing.). Contracts, envelopes with checks and waivers and statements are sent.

All done, it’s done, back to worrying about the concert, parade, testing, etc.

Except! Surprise!

Text received yesterday, the Pageant is the NEXT week! I forgot. I totally lost my voice after the parade and didn’t care cause it was break. Except, tomorrow is the run through, and next Saturday is the event.


What to do? Well, I think my voice is healed enough to sing. Playing trombone…. I don’t think that’s what the audience wants, especially Trombone music from 100 or more years ago (it’s what I got). I just realized I could totally do a color guard flag routine to some song… But getting all the tricks ready by Saturday… Probably not.

So I am to sing. I sing very low, songs from musicals and the Renaissance period (It’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog! Or perhaps Oft have I sighed, Oft have I sighed, Oft have I sighed for he who hears me not!).

I do a tolerable Fantine, a reasonable  Mame, but it’s been a long freaking time. I can sing Yuē Lang Lang in mock child soprano with more confidence than those college songs. (Music from China, music education class standard) But I could try.

The last song I was working in was Adam’s part from Children of Eden The Hardest Part of Love. That was difficult because I was trying to stay in my man voice the whole time.

At this point I could back out. Get sick and run for my life and dignity. I know I don’t make babies cry anymore when I sing. I also know if I was spectacular, I’d be on Broadway, and I’m not.

So maybe, I’ll just dash it all and try to do something…. Maybe a jazz standard.

I’m afraid no one will be hearing me sing something new, my voice just isn’t poppy. It’s belting-out-in-a-bar-and-I-hope-everyone-is-feeling-sentimental- and- a little-tone- deaf- here-we-go!

Yes, I’ve been as classically trained,  as much as a vocal minor who is teaching band can be (4 years worth of 1 hour a week lessons plus small performances in front of peers). So I have a leg up…. Maybe?

Sigh. But I need this. Performance experience. It’s important. If I ever want to get better…. Practice, exposure, and possibly vomiting.

Well I signed up for this, let’s quit the *^%#*+%# and let’s go!

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