How to Keep Fear From Killing Your Success and Fun

Will Smith is laying down some really good career advice for all of us. 

"Keep loving people. The important this is to make sure with your [work], your [work] is a gift to people to helptheir lives be better and to be brighter. And what happens a lot of times when you see people fail in this business [or any work] is that they're in it for their ego. They start doing it for themselves. And it's like, your trying to help people just get through a day."

He is talking about being an actor but I think this applies to all professions and all work. It's so hard when your work is all about you, your personal success and what you get in return. It's so much easier to be good when you are really trying to help make peoples lives easier. Their days better.

Because, seriously, don't we all need some of that. I'm all about positivity and keeping it fun. That's why I started Becoming a Badass. But the flip side to that is that life can be really hard. If you aren't focused on being happy, strong, generous, successful, positive and, most importantly, loving, it's easy to slip into a dark place. I know it is for me. It happened to me very recently.

Am I alone in this feeling? Is life always easy for some? I don't think so. We all experience great loss, disappointments and pain. Every single one of us. Some of the losses are real. Losses of health. Losses of loved ones. Losses of dreams. Losses of jobs. Some of the losses are fear taking over our minds and stealing our happiness. Losses of confidence. Losses of love. Losses of faith.

Losses hurt. I believe in positivity, love, faith and God but sometimes shit is painful. Ok? I'm not alone in this, right?

The good news, as far as work and success is concerned, is that means there is always tremendous need for people who are making the world a better, happier, positive, more love filled place. If you can keep focused on helping people's lives be better, there will always be work for you.

How can you use who you are and what you love to do to make the world a better, easier place? How can you help people just get through the day? Because that will make you successful in all senses of the word.

Viceless Day 30: Saying No

I've always found it hard to say no. I just find yes to be so much more fun. Brownie? Yes! Nachos? Yes! Cocktail? Yes! The truth is though, I say yes too much. I overbook and over consume. This tendency to always says yes leaves my schedule and body bloated and weighed down.

This challenge is just an exercise in saying no. Everyday, another person, usually one I really adore, offers me something that I must turn down. People don't just offer me sweets or wine, they hold it up to my face and say, "Please, just have some. Please." It's really hard to say no to that!

But I'm finding that once I get past the awkward no moment that still requires adjustment, I have just as much fun as I would if I were consuming alcohol or decadent food. I still find myself tearing up with laughter. I'm still having meaningful conversations. Actually, my fiancé keeps asking me what I'm so giggly about. I don't know. I just feel good, happy and giggly. Turns out that wasn't the sugar high or alcohol buzz. I'm just like that. Amazing.

People have said that I'm experiencing the placebo effect. I feel better because I expect to feel better. That could very well be true, but I would like to propose that my vices also include a placebo effect. How often do we think, I need a drink? I need a treat? I need to chill out and watch some TV? These have become the most common method of relaxation. What about meditation and deep breathing? What about a walk outdoors? Do we really NEED our vices?

I'm a free spirit and an Aquarius. I'm not hear to tell you what is right or wrong. I don't believe in that sort of thing. If cocktails and a piece of cake make you purely, delightfully happy then get to it. But I am here to challenge you to question your limitations. Limitations are the one thing I don't believe in.

Where are you limiting your potential? Where could you be saying no that would open up more space in your life for greatness? As my friend, Leaha, says, "How is the universe supposed to fill your basket if it's already full?"

Viceless Day 29: Help! How do I celebrate without food or alcohol?

Beautiful moment a few days ago between my fiancé and myself. I had just wrapped up my first Becoming a Badass Workshop. I've got new coaching clients appearing all the time. My body is feeling and looking good. I just talked to some of my major role models at the Sun Valley Wellness Festival and now they know I'm alive. I'm about to head to NYC to get more life coach training through NYU. I've made all of these accomplishments happen on my own as an independent adult. LIFE IS GOOD!! I was hopping around my kitchen with excitement and my fiancé had a huge grin on his face.

He said, "I'm so happy you're so happy. Let's celebrate!"

We both stood starting at each other with wide goofy smiles that gradually softened into open-mouth bewilderment. We have a bottle of champagne but I'm not drinking... There's no special chocolates or ice cream to decadently pair with a nice glass of wine... We traditionally celebrate by consuming something. Whoa! I'm so stuck in this habitual that I don't even know what else I could do.

This is a false representation of my ice cream.
My ice cream was not pretty enough to
photograph.

The next day I ended up making my self some vegan, sugar-free ice-cream from bananas, nut butters and maple syrup. It was a treat but felt like a substitute for the real thing. I'm not here to substitute my vices until I can get back to the "real thing." I'm looking for new ways to exist that will expand my options of having fun and enjoying life.

This is where I need your help. I've been looking for ways to celebrate and reward myself that don't involve food, alcohol or lots of money. In the future, as a big celebration, I will get a massage, take a trip or buy a highly coveted product. I can think of nice things I would love to buy but as I set up a business, my money is being reinvested in my business. What can I do that is small, affordable, celebratory and decadent for those small accomplishments that deserve attention?

I really need your help on this one. What tips and tricks can you share with me badasses? Help me celebrate!

Viceless Day 22-28: Time Flies While Dreams Are Coming True

I've been sober, sugar free and without TV for 28 days now. I've gone through my own self imposed rehab. This is only the beginning of the process since I've committed to three months, but I understand why rehab facilities use 28 days. The past four weeks have been a struggle. I've gazed longingly at food, the blank TV screen and countless glasses of wine. So much time has been spent quietly yearning for what I've given up that I started to wonder if I shouldn't just partake in my damn vices. My time was being eaten by my desire for them anyway. I didn't feel great, glowy, pure and light. I just felt like I missed eating candy while watching TV.

My online mentor and inspiration
Gabrielle Bernstein.

Somewhere in the past week though, that all changed. Today, I feel better than I've felt in years. Recently, I've connected with three power player in the world of coaching and inspirational speaking. I've conducted my first Becoming a Badass Workshop to great success and I've taken on new coaching clients. My schedule is starting to  overflow with soul inspiring, cash producing work. People are telling me that I've inspired them to improve their lives and happiness! By getting out of my own way, I'm getting everything I ever wanted. My vices have been replaced with fulfilled dreams.

Last night, after finishing my Becoming a Badass Workshop I was giddy with excitement. I've been planning this workshop for months. Before that, before even starting this blog four-years-ago I had been following my intuition hesitantly toward this career.  I didn't know what a life coach was four years ago. I just knew that I loved inspiring, motivating, writing, performing, working with people, improving the world, and how-to's in women's magazines. How that was going to make a career, I had no idea. 

Three important actions have gotten me to this amazing point in my life where I have specific dreams, goals and a plan for accomplishing.

1) I've consistently listened to my intuition and feelings. Often there is a dichotomy between what makes sense and what you know you want. When I was deciding between colleges I was choosing between Boston University where I thought I should major in business and going to California Institute of the Arts to major in acting. I really should have gone to Boston University. I was a great student and could have probably amassed a lot of monetary wealth by now. When I thought about that future though, my throat tightened up and I got a small inkling that I should go ahead and kill myself now. I'm actually down playing that feeling. At the time, my mind said, "this is what you really need to do for your future." My heart always answered, "no, it's not. That will kill me." 

Listening to my heart, I went to California Institute of the Arts even though I knew I probably wasn't going to end up with the typical actress career. I was acutely aware that I didn't know why I was going to school for acting. I was conscious of my own inadequacies and lack of direction. I knew I was making a crazy choice. Still, it was undeniable that I would regret not following my heart. 

Ten years later, I'm not an actress. I'm a life coach and workshop leader. I use the skills I learned as an actress in my present career. At school I learned to be fully present, listen, trust my instincts, be bold, stand in front of people and effectively communicate. I even learned how to put together the workshops I now conduct. A workshop is a show. It must have a beginning, middle and end. It must be engaging. It must emotionally effect the participants. I chose the most amazing, practical undergraduate training I could have for my chosen career. Well, actually, my heart chose my training. My heart picked the training before I even knew of the career of life coach. That is the brilliance that comes from listening to your intuition. 

2) I embraced embarrassment and started before I was ready. I've taken this practice to the next level by following the advice of two of my favorite online mentors.  My spiritual coach Gabrielle Bernstein says you must embrace an attitude of "F-it. Let's go!" Marie Forleo, my business guru, is the queen of the empowering phrase, "start before you are ready." Both of these women are successful powerhouses. They encourage me to be more aggressive with an attitude that I've always relied on. You will never be ready, you just need to get into action. I wasn't ready to go to an acting program that's ranked 15th in the world. I had only done a few plays at my high school. I showed up and found myself surrounded by children of celebrities and people who had been child actors. I was in way over my head and thank God. I was pushed to my absolute limit to keep up with the brilliance around me. I wasn't the best, but I was playing with the big dogs. Think of the opportunity I would have wasted if I had said, "I'll go to acting school when I'm ready." I could have done more plays around Atlanta. I could have taken smaller steps but would I have? Big actions and big decisions give you big momentum. If I had stalled on acting school, I doubt I would have even graduated from any college. I would have stayed paralyzed by fear and my own depression. It's through action, risk and starting before you are ready that you will find your passion and momentum. 

3) I set measurable, timed goals with accountability. Unfortunately, with college my only real measurable goal was to graduate. I accomplished that goal but found myself lost after graduation. Moving to Jackson, I started to set measurable, timed goals. The most obvious is when I decided to ski 100 days in one season. Before setting this goal, I had probably skied a total of 80 days in the three years since I had learned to ski. Kinda crazy to jump into 100 days, right? Well, I wanted to be a badass and I wanted to learn what it was to truly be a skier. The 100 days kicked my ass and challenged me more than I could have imagined. I didn't know how to deal with different weather conditions. My ski boots weren't perfect and I'll always have what I must lovingly call my sixth toe (calcium deposite on the side of my foot). I frequently cried into my goggles and a struggled through exhaustion. Yet, I had told people I was going to ski 100 days. People rallied to support me because I had told people my goal, therefor setting up accountability. I learned more about skiing in that one season that I had in the past 3 seasons combined. I became a skier and have a life accomplishment that I can always think of when facing a new challenge. Hell, I skied a 100 days. I can do this. 

Notice, I didn't say to myself, I'm going to become a better skier and ski more. I announced to my nearest and dearest that I was going to ski 100 days that season. Measurable, timed goals with accountability are key for accomplishments. How will you know when you've accomplished something if it isn't measured, with a time limit and with others knowing your goal? Set yourself up to succeed. I ended up skiing 109 days that season. 

Once again, my challenges are pulling me toward my success. I haven't eaten crap, consumed alcohol or watched TV while alone. After 28 days, I've talked to some of my biggest mentors, held a workshop, grown my coaching business, inspired people to improve their lives and gotten written up in my local paper. Yeah, Viceless is working.

What are you ready to succeed at? Tell me in the comments below. Let's shape some ass-kicking goals for you!

The Staycation Solution

Your to do list is reading like a novel.  Instead of being in the best shape of your life you have Budweiser bloat.  People are being dicks.  You need to get away!  Unfortunately, your next vacation isn’t for months.  How do you keep from randomly crying in the supermarket or abruptly quitting your job?  It is time for a STAYCATION.  Don’t go anywhere.  Just sit your cute fanny down in your own home and get your pamper on.  Since this doesn’t require a spa, let alone a plane ticket, this is a great way to save money while saving your sanity.

Today, I needed a staycation. I’ve been experiencing a rare feeling in my life, stress.  My life is designed for my enjoyment.  This means I minimize tasks like work and house keeping, and emphasize outdoor adventures and playtime.  Work has been stressful lately because this is the busiest time of year.  Customers and coworkers all seem to have caught a case of the Angry Augusts.  I could use two weeks in a Thai spa, but that isn’t in the budget or schedule right now so I settled for a at home SPACATION. 

Badass women need to have a supply of beauty products.  I will not be told otherwise and turn my life over to a make-up free existence. If you are a badass in the office, you need to combat stress lines and stale air.  If your badassing has you skiing down mountains you need to undo the stress of natural elements such as snow, sun, and near death adventures.

What I believe every woman should own for an emergency spacation. 

            -Deep hair conditioner

            -Body scrub

            -Face exfoliate

            -Moisturizing face mask

            -Bath salts

           

Here is a look into my SPACATION.  Let the two-hour bath begin.             

First, I dry brushed.  This is supposed to help stimulate the lymph nods and reduce cellulite.  This is one of those things I always want to do but never seem to remember.  It feels amazing to accomplish something I so often regret not doing.   

2^nd I showered and did a hair mask as my conditioner.  While letting the mask soak, I shaved.   

3^rd I exfoliated my body with a salt scrub from my trip to Israel.  Usually, I make my own with almond oil and Sugar in the Raw.  Cheap and easy.

4^th Bath time.  I fill the tub, dry my face on a towel I keep nearby and exfoliate my face with a scrub.  Rinse.  Dry face.  Apply mud mask.  Allow to dry, about two minutes.  Rinse.  Dry.  Apply moisturizing face mask and keep on for the duration of the bath.

5^th Time for some straight chilling.  I like to keep the fan on in the bathroom to create white noise.  Relax.  Stretch your neck.  Lift a leg and stretch.   A neck and scalp massage will help to unwind. This is a nice time to read, but an even better time to meditate and clear your mind. 

When the time feels right I leave the bath.  I moisturize my face first because it usually feels dry.  Next, every day I do a full body moisturizing.  This is a great day to pluck.  A perfect eyebrow makes for a groomed face. 

Bust out the hair dryer and product.  Usually I air-dry my hair, but on spacation, it’s time to full on beauty routine. 

After hair comes make-up.  This is also the day to go above and beyond.  I like to switch up my eye make-up.  Try a new look.  This is the day to test the cat-eye or use a new lip-gloss I got as a gift. 

Anything I’ve been saving for a special day is busted out.  This is a holiday.  This is staycation, baby!

Here what I look like post spacation as opposed to my everyday adventure life.

Adventure isn't alway pretty.  

Post Spacation

            When life is making you crazy what is your go to sanity solution?  How do you counter the stresses of being a badass in your own life?  I want to hear from you all and then steal your secrets. 

If you like this, come like me on facebook!  https://www.facebook.com/becomingabadass

Breaking to Build: I tore my ACL

I've always wanted this to be an inspirational blog. My favorite thing, moment, theme, whatever, is when something previously thought impossible is done. Maybe it's a homely girl discovering under that ugly over-sized sweater and glasses she is actually a hot girl, with killer confidence. Maybe it's Amelia Earhart. Maybe it's a baby's first steps. Maybe it's just laughing after a long time of not remembering how. Maybe it's becoming a badass. I love hearing about it, seeing it, being it, so that's why I started this blog. To encourage those moments in myself and others.

Whatever that elusive feeling is you get watching Forest Gump. That inspiration that puts a swing in your step and courage in your hear, that is what I've always wanted to be able to give people. I think you are all so so beautiful. Even those of you who kind of bug me. Especially those of you I can barely stand. I'm impressed with all of you. All of the blogs, the accomplishments, the relationships, the travel, the families, the big choices that you've made. I want you to be able to feel good about the steps you are taking.

I've torn my ACL skiing. I find out tomorrow if I need surgery. Even if I don't, healing is going to be a time and labor intensive process. I feel bad. I feel scared. I feel confused. Usually this triumvirate of feelings can only be cured by putting on heals and trying to dance like Beyonce. I haven't asked my doctor yet, but I'm guessing heels are off limits. My ability to shake it is also impaired. What the hell am I going to do now? How am I supposed to be happy?

My new year resolution is to be an unsinkably happy person. If I was struggling to maintain steady happiness while skiing every day, I think I might be in big trouble with this wobbly leg. The way I see it, I have two choices.

1. Under the guise of trying to shoot my lame leg off, I could shoot my head off.
or
2. Put on a black, fringed, spaghetti strap shirt and shake what I've got left.

I'm wearing a fringed shirt as we speak folks. This badass is taking it to the next level. I'm gonna have to master my mind. I don't just want to heal, I want to have fun doing it. My mind just wants to cry, pout, talk about how much this sucks, and be mean to people who are having a good time. NO WAY MIND. I'm gonna die happy, and if that happens to be tomorrow, I better make sure I'm happy now. This ACL process can't be just about getting through it. This healing has to be about keeping my good time going. I'd be honored if you all let me bounce these efforts off of you.

Thanks for being with me on this. I need all the support I can get now that I don't have a functioning right knee. And thanks for showing me how awesome you all are every day. It inspires me.

Shopping

On a walk/write around town today, I decided to see if I could get inspiration from an old favorite: window shopping. In my layers, topped with a fleece, and trotting along on my tennis shoes, I cruised the couple of boutiques this town meagerly possesses. My first stop, Katherine's. A beautiful store full of designer clothes that I can't afford. Staring at the over sized Marc Jacobs leather bags and over the knee suede boots in the window, I didn't get my usual tingle. A few years ago, I loved clothes so much that a great pair of shoes could give me a literal body buzz. Hope that isn't a feeling I've lost forever. Looking at the beautiful things, my only thought was, "But what could I DO in those?" The clothing is made for being in the clothing and standing still so people can admire the clothing. C'mon. I want to climb something, or at least, dance.

The change has been slow coming. For a while, I wasn't as concerned that the clothing was truly beautiful and inspiring, just as long as I felt it made me and my body look beautiful. Now, I want functional, flexible clothing that is comfortable and will keep me a desirable temperature. If it happens to match and keeps my body from looking like a 14-year-old boys, that is bonus points that go to me having a really good day.

It's possible that I'm on the precipice of losing all of my city girl cred. Oh, help me. I think a trip outta this town maybe in order. I need a city and one in Utah or Idaho will not suffice.



If I'm not able to make it out of this town, please, just keep an eye on me. If anyone sees me in some sort of athletic Patagonia sundress at a wedding or similar social event, smack me in the face until I come to my senses or bleed on the damn dress. I'm not hating. It works for some people, but that's not me. I don't have the toned arms to pull those dresses off.

Engaged: Rock Climbing and Marriage

When I was in Thailand, I decided to give rock climbing a go. There was an instructor, an assistant, a cute capable boy, and his overweight sister who kept quoting the TV show Biggest Loser and saying, "We're gonna die. We are so going to die." Without much instruction we were harnessed in and sent up a wall. Two things made the experience horrible. 1) The girl repeating the word die as I tried to shimmy up. 2) The assistant was in charge of my rope and spent more time looking at his hot instructor fiance than me. I lost my grip and fell about 10 feet before he caught me. Ever since then when people bring up rock climbing I've said, why would I want to desperately cling to a wall of rock?

I thought I knew myself, but boredom will make me do crazy things, so when my friend Shane invited me to the rock gym, Enclosure, here in Jackson, I said sure. Had I tried it before? Ummm.... Just once in Thailand. Never a rock gym. I didn't want to share too much of my true hatred for the activity because I was bored and lonely and desperate for action. Previous experience has taught that people aren't going to want to hang out with me if I'm whiny and full of hate, so I tucked the fear and dislike away for the present.

Turns out, rock climbing isn't so bad when the path is marked out for you on a rubber wall and you are surrounded by padding. I recommend trying out rock climbing in this fashion. Leave Thailand for the people who know what they are doing. My favorite part of the experience was Shane explaining to me why he loves climbing.

You go from standing on the floor, full of life's nerousis and distractions to be being fully engaged in one step. By just getting your hands and feet on the wall, you have put yourself in a position where your entire body is active and your mind needs to be focused on keeping you there. Clinging to a wall does have a way of snapping you into the present. I will give the activity that. While climbing, even fully surrounded by padding still scares the poo out of me, and the experience caused my body to tremble, I can say that I felt fully engaged. I wasn't bored or worried about the future for a second while I was on the wall.

Can't pass up this opportunity to give a shout out to my friends Max and Brittany who just got engaged. They are an amazing couple who seem to make each others lives better. They have a smoothie and yoga routine going that anyone should envy. I'm happy to see love advancing in this independent valley, where the persuit of freedom seems to override the fostering of love.

Personally, I've always been a little weird about marriage. As a little girl, I fantisized about having 4 or 5 marriages. I'm pretty sure this is just a negative side effect of watching Elizabeth Tayor's E! True Hollywood Story way too many times. Once I hit 18, I started dreaming of a quicky marriage in Vegas followed by an annulment. It just seemed like a fun story for my retirment years. Really, I've just always been more into rings and dresses than the thought of a life long commitment. But I've been haunted by Shane's word, engaged, since he gave me the motivational tutorial. I do love being engaged in a physical activity. Does that equate in an abstract way? Would I like to be engaged to a person?

On a solo, low-key bike ride the other day, I got to thinking about staying engaged. When I had the bike in a high gear and was challenged, all I could think about was my movement. My mind was clear and happy. Then, I'd get tired and let myself coast. Beyonce as a really talented and engaged performer came to mind. I thought about how she must have amazing focus. Then, I thought about how much I admire her butt. Then, my own butt came to mind and a peddled harder for a few seconds. The distraction had crept in, though, and soon I was back to barely moving and thinking about how my butt seemed a little flatter that morning and maybe my butt is getting flatter from biking. Not good! I'm going for rounder and plumper! In this time, I could have been hit by a car or thrown by a pot hole because I was not in this world. I was completely in my own head and nothing was happening to my butt because I was barely cycling.

Maybe this is why people get engaged. It is easy to date around, and hook-up with someone who is ok when you really want physical affection. It's even becoming hugely, culturally acceptable, but it isn't challenging or very rewarding. It's the cycling equivalant of coasting. Really getting to know someone. Investing in another person. Accepting all of someone and allowing someone to see and accept all of you, even the really embarrassing parts. That must be what being engaged with another person is all about. It sounds really hard and scary to me. Even more frightening than rock climbing in Thailand. But the challenge is what makes it rewarding. It's what causes growth. It's what keeps you in the moment instead of thinking about stupid crap on TV. Rock climbing builds crazy little muscles in hands and arms and places I haven't even considered. Maybe getting engaged to another person, making that commitment, builds crazy little emotional muscles in the heart. Or wherever the love center really it. Maybe it makes us able to love stronger, longer, better. Sounds good to me.

The theory I was left with is, being challenged makes it much easier to stay engaged. We can live our lives like drones, coasting, or we can push harder, challenge ourselves, and stay engaged. Being engaged, we can enjoy this moment and grow in it. Otherwise we have to feel insecure about our butts compared to Beyonce's. That is no way to live.

Momentum

I thought I knew how to ride a bike. There hasn't been much biking in my adult life, but hey, it's like riding a bike. Right? My discovery is that phrase only applies to quick jaunts around town or one of those care-free beach rental rides. If you wanna ride a bike up a really steep butte, there is stuff you need how to know. Learning about shifting gears, different ways to engage your muscles, how to change a flat tire is important. Most crucial, however, on bikes or on whatever mode of transportation you have picked for this great road called Life, is how to keep your momentum up. And what's even more important is keeping your momentum up while flailing wildly, almost falling, and, let's hope, learning something. The butte I went up the other day was such a challenge I almost puked. I could feel the corners of my lungs. A new muscle has popped up on my forearm. That was some fricken doing. And after it was done I felt really great about myself. It would be nice to be in such great shape that I didn't dry heave. I guess that will come in time. Probably come when I'm better at keeping my momentum up.

What you all just missed in the writing process of this very line, was several failed attempts at getting personal with you. Words strung together to try and tie in the anxiety I feel living in a ski town and working as a waitress. I keep deleting and looking for a way to continue in metaphor. There are all sorts of things my fingers tap out that are then deemed either not worthy of the public or too private for the public. Here is what I don't want to tell you: how I wonder sometimes if I'm being sucked into a life that while being quite easy and in many ways fun, will never amount to a career, a family, or financial stability. What if I never fulfill my potential and i miss out on some of life's greatest joys? I would like to delete that last sentence. Pretend it never existed. Say I'm having enough fun to not care. In many ways, I don't. I don't need much money, I don't mind my work, and who knows if I even want a family. Children are scary and seem very time consuming. There. I said it and I'm not deleting it.

The anxiety is pinned to specifics, but really, I'm scared of losing momentum. Some people can relax, live in the moment, find every second's beauty, just enjoy. I'm not one of those lucky people. I need a goal to keep my eyes open and fixated on going forward, otherwise I just sit on the couch and think about the chances of actually dying of boredom and how ashamed I'll be to have died in such a whiney, losery way. The biggest shame in having these feelings is that the emotions are born from and suckle on the situation. Sitting on the couch makes me have the thoughts and the only reason that the thoughts are legitimized is because I'm there sitting on the couch. This is called a vicious cycle and it's what I am doomed for if I don't keep up momentum and push forward. If I'm not accomplishing, the feeling comes. There is no avoiding it, so, please, don't just tell me to relax.

I've accepted the feeling. That doesn't mean I've found a solution. I do know some handy tricks for keeping momentum up while going up a really steep butte on a bike, though.

1) Slow down.
2) Get into a lower gear.
3) Circle in one spot if you have to until you can push forward.
4) Vary the muscles you are depending on for strength.
5) Practice, train, build muscle and it will get easier.
6) If you absolutely have to stop, stop. Rest, get back on, and head down the hill for a few seconds to get some
momentum and then head back up the hill.
7) Visualize how hot your body is going to be if you keep it up.
8) Imagine all those assholes who have ever tried to make you feel fat, like you couldn't, or like you weren't good
enough to even try something. Now imagine you crushing them with every pump of the pedal. You can even puke
there heads if it comes to that.
9) Look around and be thankful for the beauty around you.

I don't know if these tips can help in every situation in life. If only everything had the automatic gratification that biking possesses. Then again, it is nice that most situations don't make me dry heave. Pros and cons on that one. These tips got my doubtful butt to the top of a butte. I don't know what to do with my time not on a bike, but maybe it's time to slow down, get in a lower gear, vomit on the heads of my doubters, and push forward.

I Can Make My Own Sushi, Thank You Very Much

Badass shout out to my friend A. A is one of those amazingly tough girls, who's about 5'2" and 88 lbs, could out run, lift, pretty much out anything me. She can catch a fish, skin it herself, and then make a beautiful meal with it, looking so cute that you would never know she was covered in fish guts earlier that day. If she wasn't so nice, funny, and willing to teach, I'd have to hate her. Instead, I choose to see her as an inspiration. I'll never be able to be picked up and carried as easily as she is, sadly, but she can pass on to me her talent for rolling sushi and for that, I love her.

Like with everything, it seems, I could learn how to do this myself online, but it is so much easier and way more fun to have a badass to lead me. Here is an online step by step: http://sushiday.com/archives/2006/10/26/how-to-roll-maki-sushi/ If you can't find a badass guru, I think that you should fake it, till you make it and throw a sushi dinner party. Everyone will love you for it even if you aren't an expert. The world could use a little more love.

As a new hobby, I've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen. This is part of my badass for life plan. Along with brushing, flossing, moisturizing, a regular sleep pattern, and being active, I think that cooking my own delicious food is one of the secrets to impenetrable health and happiness. Just a theory I'm testing out. If this doesn't work, I'm returning to candy and cocktails instead of meals. The jury is still out.

Here are the positive arguments for cooking that I've found so far:

- I can feed four people for what a nice restaurant would cost to feed just me. This is the beginning of my charity work.
- I've lost weight without even trying.
- There is double joy in knowing that it is delicious because I made it that way.
- People seem impressed by me!
- Who ever I cook for, the person starts to feel like family. I like it.


To everyone who has cooked for me, or let me cook for them, thank you. It was a pleasure. And a big ol' super-sized thank you to the people who answer my calls about how long to cook chicken or whatever. You are all very skilled and impressive. Everyone thinks so.

We All Deserve a Nice Polish

My toe nail is about half grown back from when I killed it at the beginning of the ski season. For ski boots, toenails must be kept as short as possible. Between the ski season and the havoc of summer, I haven't painted my toenails in about a year. Today, I've decided to paint that pitiful half toenail a pretty pink. The nail may not be conventionally pretty by magazine standards, but I don't see why it should be treated like it's pretty. First coat is on and it looks like a multi-dimensional, all pink, cubist painting.

Plus, it's snowing today, so I don't think it's going to be trotted about in sandals anytime soon. Not that I'm ashamed of you, toenail. You are beautiful just the way you are.

Back-Country Skiing: The Story of a Wimp

Just to let you know I'm a real live human being writing this, know that I'm telling this story while wearing a pink Snuggie and sitting on the corner of my bed, Indian style. Now, we are intimate. Let me share my embarrassment further.

Feeling all cocky at the end of the ski season, I decide I'm gonna kick things up a notch. The mountain right by my house, Snow King, that I've talked about before, being extremely steep and one of the first things I challenged myself to climb regularly, is taunting me once again. When the mountains have officially closed to skiing, stopping the lifts, people will continue to climb up them on foot and ski down. Yes, this crazy steep mountain, that I have almost thrown up while just trying to walk up the switch backs that aren't covered in snow, is a mountain that some people climb in ski boots, straight up. This town is fricken' cra-cra crazy. It appears some people are doing this on their lunch break! Don't they know that a good latte can take 4 minutes to make and fully savoring a panini takes 9 minutes. There isn't enough time on a lunch break to climb a mountain with skis strapped to your back. Some people don't understand time management. But, after two years of watching these idiots, I finally decided, if you can't beat them, which I def couldn't because there bodies are made of steel, join 'em. Plus, it's the off-season and I'm really, really bored. My other current project is at home laser hair removal. At this point, I'm up for anything.

Super motivation kicks in and I prance my booty down to one of the local badass stores, Skinny Skis, that I've really only bought fleeces and yoga pants in so far. Staring at the back-packs and glancing around the store, I'm hoping someone will say, can I help you, and I'll be able to casually ask questions, flippantly pretending I don't need that much guidance. I know the employees here are amazing cause I've seen them discuss gear with other people. This time of year, though, the town is practically empty and the store is switching over from winter to summer. All the employees are busily shelving. AKA: Ain't nobody gonna throw me a bone on this one.

I approach a woman. She's engrossed in organizing head-lamps. Interrupting her focus, "Excuse me. Could you help me find a back-pack that I can strap some skis to. I have absolutely no idea what I'm looking for. I really know NOTHING about it."

God bless this woman. She wasn't daunted. She laughed gently, sprung up, and said, "Ok. Let's find you a back-pack."

She then took 15 minutes to show me the type that would work for me, how to put skis on, all the advanced features I could grow into, and the best fit for my back. She even took the time to tell me about the skiing conditions on Snow King and the optimum time to go. Normally, I hate when sales people talk to me too much, like some little bump-it wearing boutique girl telling me that belts make all the difference. I KNOW ABOUT BELTS!!!! But this woman seemed like the Messiah to me. Thank you for taking the time to help me, glowing and beautiful Skinny Skis employee.

Next stop, scoping out the mountain. I'm standing at the base of Snow King, noticing there isn't a set path to walk up. I've heard about boot packs, which are like stairs in the snow that other people have formed by climbing up. This snow seems to be too thin to necessitate a boot pack. Not wanting to be the loser who is walking up and ruining the mountain, I decide I better ask somebody. Luckily, a middle-age man is just taking off his skis at the bottom. This guy looks like he will sympathize, since he has a belly big enough for me to curl up in and doesn't really seem to fit in with the super-athletes either. I once again, throw myself into the alter of self-deprecation.

ME: "Excuse me. I was just wondering if there is a spot that most people walk up this thing. I'd like to hike up and ski down but I've never done it, or anything like this, before. Any tips?"

HIM: "Oh, umm. Nope. You just get up there anyway you can. Getting up is the really hard part. You can just head straight up, or squiggle around"

Ahh, yes. I think I will squiggle. This guy is awesome.

ME: "And, where should I ski down? How's the snow?"

HIM: "I've been sticking to that path there. Pretty good."

ME: "Great! Thanks. Just gotta go get my snow pants on. Awesome. Sweet."

HIM: "Good luck." And with a smile and a couple of heaves. He seems to still be catching his breath. I love this man. This man is part of my team, even though he doesn't know it.

That part about just needing my snow pants is a lie. I've been planning all day to do this with my boyfriend, because the one thing I've learned about trying all this active stuff, is that I don't know crap, and it really helps to have someone there with me, even if they don't really know anything either. Another body out there helps. The real truth is though, that when it comes to physical activities and the outdoors pretty much everyone in this town knows more than me. Everything is a learning experience when you're really dumb. I'm blessed with a lot of teachers.

So, I'm waiting for a man to help me. I was raised in Little Rock, Arkansas and I just default to this setting. On my way to pick up said man, I get a call.

BOYFRIEND: "Hey, Babe. Chase wants to do some back-country today."

ME FULL OF DISAPPOINTMENT: "Oh, ok. Well, have fun. I'll catch up with you later."

BOYFRIEND: "No. No. C'mon. You've been saying you want to try this. You in?"

ME FULL OF FEAR: "Um, I don't think so. I don't have any of the avalanche gear. I'm not mentally prepared. I... You go. Have fun. I'm already turning my car around."

BOYFRIEND: "No, c'mon. I'm doing something with you. Just come over and we will either do Snow King or the back-country. Just get your butt over here."

ME FULL OF FEAR AND STALE OXYGEN BECAUSE I HAVE FORGOTTEN TO BREATH: "Ok."

I get there. I discuss this all with the BF and his epic skier of a roomie. They down-grade the back-country plans to something very light. Sugar Ridge or something. Some place with extremely low level danger and a simple hike in. Oh, yeah. I should explain. Back-country skiing is skiing in the national forest or where ever, but not at a ski resort. There are no lifts, you hike in, and there is no ski patrol whose job it is to save you. You need to have a beacon, shovel, and probe in case there is an avalanche and you need to be dug out. This is more probable because ski resorts bomb areas to prevent avalanches and in the back-country the only person looking out for you is your partner. Ain't no one gonna make it safe for you. People do it because the snow is amazing and you can continue to ski when ski season is officially over and the mountains are closed. This has definitely been a part of my fantasy. I want to be a back country skier. I've wanted to try this, but I don't know if I'm ready. The problem is, you can never know if you're ready for anything. You just have to try. Which is what I tell myself when my boyfriend pulls the ace on me as I waiver back and forth on going.

"C'mon. Aren't you a badass?"

This has been coming up a lot since I started this blog. I don't want to take a shot of tequilla and I someone says, "C'mon, badass." I don't want to ski and it's, "I thought you were a badass?" I get my feelings hurt and cry and it's, "You're a badass. Don't cry. There is no crying in badassery." Well, folks. Here's the news. I'm not a badass. I'm a wimp. I cry a couple of times a week. I feel lost a lot. I fall down frequently and randomly. I am a light-weight drinker and most of the time I would prefer to be home eating cake. I'm a wimp! Ok. I am. But, for some reason, I WANT to be a badass. I want it really bad. I want to be strong, physically and mentally. I want to take this life, and make it into something great. I want six-pack abs in my forties and a life I can tell my children about that will fill them with excitement and inspiration. That is the push-pull. What I am now, and what I believe I can be if I keep trying. So, I say yes to the back-country skiing.

I get a crash course in the avalanche gear that is strapped onto me and am shown how to strap my skis onto a back pack. This is all great stuff to learn.

But the skiing kicks my ass so very hard. The hike up kicks my ass cause I haven't been doing much cardio this winter. The skiing kicks my ass cause the snow is different than I'm used to having been baked in the sun. Also, and by far the worst, my fear kicks my ass. I'm out of my element, everything is new and I can't get my head to focus on skiing. Thoughts of my inability to do this new thing won't leave me alone, so, I see a tree and get scared I'm going to crash and fall over. I fall and fall and fall. My knees get fucked from it all and I'm feeling pain. Not can't-keep-going pain, but why-am-I-doing-something-that-would-inflict-this-much-hurt pain. I make it out, thanks to my boyfriend and his amazing friend helping me so, so much. Can't lie, though. I'm pissed. It was too soon for me and the snow conditions were crap. I shouldn't have been out there. More research and strength were needed for the trip to go well. I wouldn't have known that, though, if I didn't do it.

I've taken a few days off from physical activity. Icing my knees, stretching, and strengthening. This is the most pain I've felt in a long time, and the effects are different than I thought they would be. I thought I was pissed and not going to want to challenge myself like that again. I thought, good, an excuse to sit around and eat a lovely bag of cookies. Cookies are necessary but that isn't the final word. Now, all I want it to be better prepared and stronger. Then, I want to do it all again. I still dream about being a back-country skier and I just might be with a little help from my friends, sales people, and total strangers.

PS. It is unbelievably beautiful out there in the back-country.

Honeymoon in Waning

To Eddie, I said, "Some people after we graduated seemed to lose their minds. Have these people lost all perspective?"

"Yeah, and that one crazy girl lost her mind and moved to Wyoming. Three years later she is still there. What the fuck is she doing?"

Ok, Eddie. I hear you loud and clear. It's hard to miss anything my friends from college say since we all went to school for theater and are trained in not only vocal projection and enunciation, but in being as specific as possible with expression, using words, facial expressions, and our bodies. Even over a cell phone, Eddie can pin me down with his words. Really, three years later, what the fuck am I still doing in Wyoming?

I moved to Jackson Hole, Wyoming on accident. This happens to a lot of people, only most of the people come out here because they love to ski or hike and then find that they never want to leave. I came out here, not knowing how to ski, having hiked in the past but had traded in my hiking boots for some retro inspired peep-toe sandals years ago. A juice fast and a little meditation were the only things on my agenda when I came out here spur of the moment for what I thought would be a two to three week trip. My parents split their time between Jackson and Illinois, so there was a empty house just waiting to host my mental clarity retreat. The fast lasted two and a half days, was broken by a beer at a bar, where I was asked out on a date by the bartender and the rest is history.

Actually, it isn't that simple. If I had fallen in love with the bartender, he had ended up being a millionaire who just enjoys bartending, but his real passion was financially supporting me and taking me around the world, the rest would be a clear cut history. I guess the rest is the beginning of the adventure. The rest involves me talking to people about their lives out here and learning about travel, outdoor adventure, and living a life that isn't based around a career goal. The rest is meeting people who intrigue me and were open to sharing their passion for skiing, hiking, travel, and heavy drinking with me. This is the beginning of a story about finding love. Not the love of a bartender, but a greater love of life and the me who is living this life.

Three years later though, the honeymoon is over. I'm still in love with my life, but things need a little kindling to keep the fire burning. I'm not learning how to ski, I'm a skier. Sure, I've got a lot to learn, but now it's about the nitty-gritty. About devotion. It's not just amazing that I'm skiing now. Now, I have to get good at it, and that's always been the point in my life when I falter. Trying new things is a specific skill that takes courage and a willingness to fail and be humiliated. That I have. Getting good at something means sticking with things even after your limitations have been fully realized, but still trying and accepting that you are not a natural and you're not going to end up in the Olympics, but you can get good, if you just stick with it. I think. Don't really know, cause I normally don't stick with something long enough to find out. The initial rush of a new challenge is too enticing usually.

The older I get, the more I wonder though, is there a deeper fulfillment that I'm missing by always ditching out when things get tricky and moving on to a new challenge?

Skiing is just an example and not the main focus of this question. What about love relationships? What about work? What about my devotion to eating well and not just meal substituting margaritas and pizza for a full day of nutrition? These questions have to be asked now because something terrible is happening. I'm getting bored. As a person prone to boredom easily, I know the symptoms. Feelings of hopelessness, the desire for cigarettes, extreme quietness, watching hours of Sex and the City on DVD, and just mentally looking for trouble and a good fight. This is not good. This is no way to live!

So, how can I fan my own flame? What changes need to be made to keep myself passionate about life and my love for it? I've got some ideas: finding more fulfilling work, and being open to the possibility that more schooling may be in the future, a nice new dress and some lip gloss, creating some concrete fitness challenges, and trying something new socially like a dance class.

What I really want to know is, what are you people doing out there to keep yourselves motivated, happy, and fulfilled? I'm not about stealing.

Snot Knock

This winter has knocked the snot out of me. Literally. I was skiing one day, which is a pretty snot filled experience at all times. Skiers have no problem wiping their drippy noses on anything available. These people are so comfortable with the fact that their noses will be eschewing liquids all day long, that the gloves produced for the sport actually have areas that are made for wiping snot on. The product info that comes with purchase says something like "snot strip" or "nose wipe". What I'm telling you is, the gloves say, "It's ok. Put your boogers on this clothing and then wave them around at people. You're skiing. This is acceptable." I'll wipe on gloves, and I like to carry a dainty travel tissue thing with me, but I'm still quietly horrified by the ever popular snot rocket. This is where you use the force of your nose breath to propel the mucus from your body. No hands or material required. I get that it is practical. I get that we are in nature and societal rules just don't apply, but my inner city girl, who still fantasizes about cashmere cardigans won't let me snot rocket. I'm sorry. I just can't.

Like most of the things I thought I would never do, for example spending days without make-up and really ugly practical shoes, this damn nature has some how tricked me into doing. The other day, I was feeling badass, going fast, knees bent, soaking up the bumps, till one got me, and I hit a bump that sent my knees into my chest, literally, knocking the snot out of me. All I can really say is, I was delighted. I finally understood a literary term I've been using since childhood and obviously, I'm on the road to full out badass. I felt like a kid in the movie Stand by Me or like Huck Finn. I felt sparky and adventurous. My mind may not agree with snot rocketing, but my actions just can't be stopped. I'm just too naturally sparky and adventurous. Yes, I was very impressed with myself, ok? Goes to show, you never really know what's gonna get the excitement flowing. Life hold may surprises.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still not going to snot rocket on purpose. I need to hold onto some individualism and the prayer that I can still blend in a city, but it's nice to know I snot rocket if I have too.

Hot Older Women

As a 15-year-old, I remember being hesitant to wear eyeliner because I heard it would give me more wrinkles in my thirties. I still have trouble using heat styling tools on my hair because of the damage I fear they will do long term. Essentially, I'm willing to sacrifice quite a bit of looking good and hip now, in the hopes that I'll be a hot older woman, and here is why: I'm slightly obsessed with being a cougar. Always have been, always will be. When I hear people say phrases like, I'm in better shape at 40 than I was at 20, I get a little buzz of excitement. I think, hell ya, my future. My mind is taken over by visions of my all organic kitchen, green tea addiction, and the six pack I got from trying to keep up with my kids, just like Sarah Jessica Parker. Hey, you can't choose your fantasies. This is mine. All I can do is enjoy it.

I was blessed with a cougar filled day out on the slopes, that started with four moms on the shuttle from the parking lot talking alternately about their kids classes and the runs they were going to do that day. These woman were classic moms, except for one thing. They spend their weekends down-hill skiing at one of the most challenging mountains possible. Well, that, and for post pregnancy bodies, they were all bodacious. To say how bodacious, I must say that they looked bodacious in ski attire, which means they are not only cute, but can find ski pants that accentuates their butts. These are hot woman in ever sense. Not, Los Angeles, I will do anything to look like I am 20 hot, but like, I'm still super active, loving life, and an expert shopper hot. These woman spurred me to pay more attention through out the day to all the woman 40 plus on the slopes. It seemed everywhere I looked some silver fox was swishing around me, and I was happy to have it happen. If you're in your sixties and wanna fly past me, spraying me in the face with your snow, I ain't gonna hate. Celebrate! The death of aging like a wimp. I want to age like these badass'. In honor, at the end of the day, when my badass boyfriend led me over to the half pipe I gave it a go. Not, because I wasn't freaked out, but because there was a woman ahead of me encouraging her six-year-old son to try it. Not just try it, but to "see how big you can go." He did. She was laughing, saying, "God, I hope this doesn't make me a bad mother."

My reply: "No way. This makes you a badass mother. At least, he isn't going to live life filled with fear." With that, the woman said, "Yeah!" Turned to her husband with a huge grin and said, "Hope I'm not to old to try this!" She took off down the half-pipe, shrieking with delight. I followed. No big air was had, but I did laugh like a three-year-old who was just thrown into a foam pit at Chuck-E-Cheese for the first time. That type of joy is elusive and can only be found by trying new things, something that is harder to do as you get older and are doing fewer things for the first time. The harder it is to accomplish, the more badass it is though. I've known that since birth. So, at 15, I could have been a little sexier with eye liner and flat-ironed hair, but I'm saving that sexiness for later. When it will be really impressive. A weekend that could have been devoted to botox will now be devoted to skiing. Maybe I'm alone in my thinking, but to me, that's hot.



warning: skiing is very damaging to the skin and sunscreen must be applied. do not get all crazy "I don't care how I look." you will have missed the point entirely.

The Ski Bunny is Back

My ski boots have been adjusted, and while my deformity is still bringing me pain, I skied today and yesterday. What can I say? Today was a powder day, meaning fresh snow, and what kind of ski bum would I be if I let a calcium deposit that looks like a bone deformity keep me from the hill?

For my bravery and dedication, God game me two gifts today. I got some fresh tracks in powder, which feels like gliding over butter, and a bit like flying. Plus, I got to cockily pass a group of four dudes to go through some rough terrain. They were all, "Oh, sorry. Let us get out of your way." I was all, "Why thank you gentlemen. I would wait, but I have a devotion to the freshies. That's short for fresh snow. Laters, boys."

Really, I just passed them with a smile, but they knew. They could see, I'm a badass skier, even if only in the eyes of some lost out-of-towners.

Before We Go Any Further

I must mention a story I heard at my recent job orientation. Working for an ski resort that has a reputation for extreme terrain, I should expect to be asked, "Would you please share your most adventurous experience with the group?" Didn't. Flabbergasted that I am now such an adventurous person that people would ask me to share adventure stories as part of my job, I started to search my mind.

Oh, yes! The story about taking a 4 person plane packed with 5 people off the island in Honduras. That could be good. Jumping off the 40 foot waterfall? Could work. Yeah. Maybe. Not that great. Poking the lava with a stick. I could touch on the bus ride over the mountain pass with the open door. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhh...

"Ok, Todd. How bout if you start?"

"Sure. Uhhh, well? I guess it would be about 5 years ago. I was mountain biking with a couple of my friends and of course I was way ahead of the two of them, and, I was attacked by a grizzly bear."

The group waits. Eyes begin tentatively shifting ever so slightly. The search for confirmation of that being the entirety of the story is discreetly underway. Todd looks to his right and tries to pass the torch. The cardigan wearing snow bunny to his right is horrified. Luckily, this time, that snow bunny wasn't me. I would have tried to follow this story. The actual snow bunny knew better. She just stared at Todd, until, some dude asked, "What? Dude? Where? How?" Simple questions, but apparently the right ones.

It should be said, Todd is older. A ski patroller of middle age. No visible scarring on the face.

"Yeah, so I was headed up (name of trail omitted cause I forgot) and I was pretty far ahead of my two buddies. This griz comes at me from the side. All I heard was gnarly thumping, something I don't usually hear. So, I see the bear and it's already charging me. Man, it got me really good."

"Dude, how'd you get it off you?"

"My friends finally caught up and unloaded two cans of bear spray."

There is more to the story, but I'm already doing Todd an injustice with the shotty telling, so I'll let the gist of it speak for itself. The real gem of the story, though, came later when we were discussing the merits of helmets while skiing. Todd, piped up, "I'm sure psyched that I wear a helmet when I mountain bike. That bear busted one gnawing on my head."

I told the story of poking lava with a stick. Becoming a badass is a constant education in humility.

The Splits

My friend, Anna, can do the splits in the way I could when I was 15. Legs fully apart. Arms up in the air. Big Smile. I am so jealous. So very, very, very, very jealous. Five minutes ago, I was working on my splits. Thank you for the true life inspiration, Anna.

Bitch.

No. I'm kidding. Thank you.

The Best Plan Ever

I've decided that for my 40th birthday I'm going to get certified as a yoga instructor. This is a distant plan.

1) Being a yogi is always badass. A 40-year-old taking on a big physical challenge is super-badass.

2) I'll be healthier, hotter, and more flexible in mind, body, and spirit.

3) If I get left by a man going through a mid-life crisis I'll start an all male yoga class. If I'm still in love and not being left, I'll give private lessons.

What's your best plan ever?

I am Miss Oktoberfest!

I'm having an excessively tough time writing this because of the amount of alcohol that went into my winning Miss Oktoberfest.  Some woman win through beauty and talent.  I won due to a goofy hat and a public spanking.

To begin at the beginning...

It all started with a simple thought:  a  night of good food, richly crafted environment, and maybe a discreet beer sampler at one of Jackson Hole's finest dinning establishments, Stiegler's.  I had been lucky enough to be squeezed into the exclusive Oktoberfest event and was ready to be treated to one of the most perfect and opulent dining experiences of my life.  My vision of grandeur was skewed when I learned 8 hours before the dinner that it was actually a costume party.  The concept of this Oktoberfest being a costume party immediately seemed strange because why would anyone want to dilute the beautiful experience of eating a perfectly prepared veal wellington with the hilarious humiliation of eating it dressed as a pumpkin?  Costume parties are an excuse to get blackout drunk with the excuse of needing the extra alcohol to maintain your Hunter S. Thompson impression, not the time to exercise your taste buds.  I heard that it was a costume party from one of the restaurant's employees, so I thought, well, it must be true.  

My partner in crime, Shaun, loved that it was a costume party and quickly decided to go as a peppermint.  His costume would consist of red tighty whities, red tube socks, a red and white striped shirt, and a red hat.  This really seemed like a bad idea, but since we were going to this since it was his birthday, I felt like my hands were tied.  I agreed to wear my new purple skirt and go as a grape lozenge.  

Later that day, as I shopped for a striped shirt and a purple leotard, Shaun called to say that the peppermint thing was going to be too much.  We should dress as Austrians or Germans or something.  Now, I love costumes.  I love costumes so much that I wore one almost every day in college.  One day I would be studious girl, the next girl who loves movies from the 70's, the next girl who loves '40s glamour.  These days, I am pretty committed to being the girl who wears jeans and a cute top, but when the opportunity for a costume comes up, I like to nail the outfit.  I ended up in fuzzy boots, jeans, a turtleneck, suspenders, a totally legit sweater from the thrift store that was made in Norway, and a very cute Austrian cap that a friend of mine happens to own.  I was the real deal.  Shaun hated all of the goofy options I had gotten him and ended up in a sweater, corduroys, and a hunting cap.  He looked like a normal person who doesn't dress well, and I looked like a freak who loves caps and suspenders.  What I felt like, though, was a badass who could easily blend into any culture.  My costume was perfect. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't a costume party.  When I walked in the door, the place was almost empty, but the 4 other women there were in heels, nice jeans, and a cute spangly top.  Aka:  dressed for modern life, not 1976 Austria.  As more people walked in, it became increasingly clear that the only other costumes I was going to see where the traditional lederhosen and dirndl that the waitstaff wore.  I introduced myself to everyone as "Hi, I'm jessicatheytoldmethiswasacostumeparty."  People were really supportive of the outfit and I started to have fun with the whole thing.  That or I was just drinking more.  

When I introduced myself the the manager, he informed me that there was actually a dance/costume contest.  Oh, it was on.  I found two male guests who had worn their own lederhosen, the only two other people in costume.  One was a man in his thirties with unwashed hair, piercings, and a charming German/ New Jersey accent.  The other was a spitfire in his seventies.  Both men took very well to me telling them that they might as well not even compete because I was going to school them in the competition.  Neither knew that there was a competition, but after enough berating, rose to the challenge, the old man asking, "ok, so when are you going to change into your costume."  and the younger man doing taunting German dances in my general direction.  

The Break-Through

As I was passing by the live band, the 72-year-old saxophone player stopped me and started feeling the arm of my sweater.  He asked me with a heavy accent,  "What type of wool is this?"

"Oh!  I don't know!  I just got it today.  Here, look at the tag."  

As I unhooked my sweater and arched my back forward to get to the tag, the accordion player and guitarist came to look too.  As the saxophonist felt my sweater more and more fully, he said, "I can tell that this is camel hair.  Yes, definitely.  I know for sure."

"Really?  Oh, wow.  It says it's made in Norway."

"Yes, I recognize it by the two humps in it."  He said, looking at my breasts.  

For the rest of the night I was referred to as camel hair.  

The Glory

The rest was right place, right time, right goofy hat.   I happened to be standing near the dance floor, watching couples take there turn, when the saxophone player stepped onto the dance floor and asked for a dance partner.  No one volunteered, and when he turned around and saw me behind him he said, "Camel hair!" and extended arm as an invitation to dance.  We started by hopping, stomping and doing that odd dance where you lift your ankle in and out and slap it.  We then moved onto a dance where you pretend to hit each other in the head and clap.  Germans are so weird.  The whole restaurant was clapping along, beer mugs in the air, laughing with me as I tried to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do.  I thought we were about to take a bow, when my frisky dance partner said one phrase I understood.

"Bend over."

"What?"

"Bend over."

As I made eye contact with a beautiful and classy woman in her 60's, "I don't think so, Mister."

"Put your hands on the ground."

I looked questioningly at the audience.  Every one was nodding for me to do it and sloshing their glasses in time with the music.  I bent over.  The Austrian grabbed my legs wheelbarrow style, and wrapped them around his waist.  He told me to hang on, and proceeded to smack my bottom rhythmically.  My cap fell off, but otherwise, the whole thing was pretty good.  I was let up, the crowd cheered, I was feeling good, when the man said, "Next time, we do the whole dance."

"I want to do it now."

"Ok, then you must hold on again with your legs, but now you must reach through and smack my bottom at the same time I smack yours."

And I did.  I won a apron with a hot cartoon body of an Austrian barmaid who accidentally forgot her shirt but is just covered by her suspenders, a free dinner for two, and the incredible honor of being 2009 Miss Oktoberfest.   

Sometimes, just when you feel like the biggest loser of all, you turn out to be the winner.