Pageant Aftermath

There are some things in life that I know I’ll look back on, shake my head, and wonder what the Hell I’d been thinking. Actually, I can think of a handful right now and I’m not even half way through my life expectancy.

I look back now and wonder why I thought it was a good idea to date a man ten years older than me when I was seventeen. That was just not okay.

I look back and wonder why I thought it was a good idea to go to Mexico with three guys I met while waiting tables at Denny’s. Even though I did end up marrying one of them.

I look back and I wonder why I didn’t try harder in school. Or finish college. Now the best job I can hope for is answering someone’s phone.

I look back and I wonder why I didn’t enjoy my graduation trip to Europe. I could have had so much more fun if I hadn’t been so damn angsty.

I look back and I wonder what made me think that hurting myself would ever make me feel better. I have a ton of scars now, and because of some weird genetic code, those scars will stay forever. (I still have a scar from scraping my knee at the ripe old age of five.)

I wouldn’t classify any of these things as regrets; they are all things that have contributed to making me the woman that I am today. I grow and learn from everything that happens to me. The things I’ve experienced have given me wisdom to pass along and share with others, and I’m willing to do that for anyone that asks.

The newest event to make this list in my brain is the 2012 Mrs. Alaska America pageant. Not in a bad way though. Up until now all of the things that make me shake my head in wonder have been negative in some way. I finally have a good one in there. Not to say that nothing good has ever happened in my life. But, most of those things were either planned that way or happened by accident. I know that sounds weird and doesn’t really make a lot of sense, but I can’t think of a better way to put it.

During the pageant preparation process I looked back and I shook my head. What was I thinking entering this? What on earth made me think that I was pretty enough to be in a pageant? I was surrounded by beautiful women. Why did I think that it’d be a good idea to put myself on a stage to be judged? I grew up with some major self-esteem issues. Some were handed to me by a step-father that didn’t know how the words he spoke to me would affect me. Some were caused by being overweight.  And some just appeared out of the hormonal wreckage that is the teenage brain.

I went into this with this as my outlook on life: I’m just a stay-at-home mom. I’m a nerd. I’m average looking. I’m nothing special. I’m shy. I’m not the kind of person that was meant to have a lot of friends. I love my son beyond all reasoning and nothing will ever come before him, even if that means I don’t get a social life. After twelve years, I still think my husband is hotter than any hunk on a romance novel cover. I write trashy novels, miss racing cars, feel most myself when I’m playing a character on stage, and am only a little ashamed of my RPG past.

Now that the pageant is over I look back and shake my head. Why didn’t I do this sooner? Why was I so scared? What in the world made me think I wasn’t good enough? How did I not see that sometimes the best way to not feel judged is to be judged?

I didn’t win a single prize or award during the pageant. And ten years ago this fact would have sent me running for a knife. Or maybe to the piercing studio. Thankfully I’ve grown out of that phase in my life and I just go running for a quiet corner to give my mind time to process the situation. Does it hurt that I didn’t win ANYTHING? Absolutely.  I wanted that crown and sash, or at the very least one of those big bouquets that said I was really, really close to that crown. I wanted one of those medals that said everyone thought I was the nicest person there, or that I had the prettiest wedding photo, or that my head shot was the most amazing piece of photographic brilliance. None of the official judges, the optional judges, the pageant staff, or the other contestants voted me as the best of anything. But, after a week of contemplating this, I’ve decided that I don’t mind that much. And here’s why.

I’ve been told that this year’s pageant was THE year. That our class was an exceptionally good one and that it’s not always as wonderful an experience as it was this year. I’m proud to be able to say that I was a part of this record-breaking class and I’m proud of myself for growing the balls to do it in time to meet these exceptional women.

I didn’t walk out of that auditorium with a crown, or a medal, or anything else that I didn’t walk in with. If you count that apple I brought with me and ate, I actually walked out with less. What I did walk away with wasn’t anything physical; it wasn’t anything you can hold in your hands. What I walked away with is in my heart and in my head.

I have twenty-one new friends; seventeen fellow contestants, two directors, and two former sash wearers. I have a support system that will always have my back. I have the confidence to look in the mirror and like what I see. I know that I’m courageous enough to do anything, whether or not it’s in my comfort zone. I’ve never been in a better place than I am right now, and that’s a direct result of entering the pageant.

I’m still a stay-at-home mom. I’m still a nerd. I still miss racing cars. I still put my son first. I still can’t get enough of my husband. But now I also categorize myself as a beautiful and confident woman; and that’s something I’ve waited for almost thirty-two years to be able to say.

I can’t count how many times in the past week that I’ve been asked how I feel about the results of the pageant. I’ve been told that I should have at least been in the top three. I’ve been told the pageant results were unexpected. All I can do is listen patiently while these people rant; I believe in letting people express themselves. Then I tell them that every contestant this year and I, am proud of this year’s winner’s court and couldn’t be happier with the choice of Vicki Sarber as Mrs. Alaska America 2012.

They never believe me at first. Maybe it’s because they think all women are catty and backstabbing. Maybe it’s because they love me so much that they can’t believe I wasn’t the best choice. Maybe it’s because, in their years of pageant experience, they’ve never seen such a supportive group. Whatever their reasons are, all I can do is smile and tell them that I respectfully disagree. After spending two days with these women, I grew to love every one of them. Every single one of us would have done that crown justice and made our state proud. Whatever made the judges choose Vicki as the winner, it was justified because she’s the perfect woman for the job. She’s a charismatic, beautiful, intelligent, kind, fun, and loving woman. She’s a wife, mother, friend, and true Alaskan. She is Mrs. Alaska America 2012 and she has my full support.

And if anyone has a problem with that, they’ll have twenty-one beautiful Alaskan women to contend with. All these women have been hitting the gym for the last few months to prepare for the pageant, and more than a few of them are gun enthusiasts.