Sunday, July 13, 2008
BlogHer, Oh My Darling BlogHer: Please Don't Notice My FatToday, I made some BlogHer business cards. All of the savvy, knowledgeable BlogHer women bring business cards to exchange. I'm one, right? I tried to think of some way to make mine cool, but after a while I gave up. My business cards are just like me: boring and nerdy. I suppose anything else would have been false advertising.
On Wednesday, I had my hair trimmed - it was the second time in over five years that I've been to a stylist. I did it for BlogHer; I didn't want all those stylish women to see me with the distinctive touch of a manicure scissors trim. It's so humid here, I've been twisting my hair up and sticking a clip through it anyway. I'm so "with it" when it comes to trendy hair, you know.
I've been going through my closet, wondering how even someone like me could possibly be wearing some of those ancient, hideous clothes. There has to be something in there that would help hide the real "me" in San Francisco.
Yesterday, I tunneled my way through the bathroom cabinet and weeded out all the hair gels and other products that did not live up to the miracles the marketers had promised. I feel somehow betrayed by my own persistence in believing the printed word. I do know better; I just haven't stopped hoping yet. . . .
As far as BlogHer shoes go, mine have never been so far away from home before. Unfortunately, they look it. I own moccasins and flip-flops. I am a walking definition of whatever the opposite of "elegant" is. I'd look it up in a thesaurus but I'm already feeling insecure enough.
If I were a movie, I'd be an alternate ending of "The Wizard of Oz." The credits might be rolling, and the reel might have switched back to black and white, but I still haven't found any courage or brains. The Wicked Witch of the West just grew larger and more wicked when I threw water on her, and she flipped that huge scary hourglass - the very one that traumatized me when I was a little kid - upside-down again. The winged monkeys are throwing dung at me, Glinda just looks like Topper's wife, and Toto not only bit me: his fleas did, too. I begin to wish Miss Crump had fastened her bicycle basket more securely.
Oh, and the Wizard betrayed me. He flew away and never came back for me. He never had any intention of coming back. The Wizard is a player. Eventually, everybody figures that out. It just took me longer than most people. I'm that way.
The only thing that really works is the heart. I had that all the time. I'm just afraid to use it. What if, when I get to San Francisco, nobody talks to me? What if nobody sees me? I'm mostly invisible, wherever I go, except when I make Ugly Betty seem subtle. But she turned out to be smart and creative: a problem-solver who specialized in saving the day.
What if it grows silent when I enter the room, and then little clusters of friends titter and begin to whisper? What if I'm the only person in the room wearing capris with a two-digit number on the label?
It's ironic, you know. I have no trouble whatsoever walking into a classroom full of strangers and taking charge. The difference there, however, is that when I'm on the job, those people NEED me. About my job, I am very knowledgeable and I know exactly what I'm doing and how to do it. I know that I'm good at it, and I know that my department head knows that and trusts me to do my job and do it well. I take that trust very seriously indeed, and I do my utmost to live up to it. And I'm talking exactly like Charlie Gordon in the novella version.
I very nearly worship the women in charge of BlogHer. They are trusting me to be on a panel, and I intend to do my very best for them. I have never done anything like this before. I've spoken before hundreds of people on my own terms, but I've never spoken about anything personal, or close to my heart. In just a few days, that's exactly what I shall be doing. What if I open up and nobody cares?
What if people nudge each other and snicker? What if they whisper to each other that they've NEVER felt like that and there must be something wrong with me? What if they leave the session wondering why I was even there?
In just a few days, I shall be in San Francisco at BlogHer. I went last year and it was wonderful. When the opportunity opened up that allowed me to go again this year, I was so ecstatic I stammered for weeks. I know that it will be even better this year. Events like this almost always get better and better with each passing year. Practice makes perfect, you know.
I hope I will be able to somehow add to the perfection, and not detract from it. I can't WAIT to meet everyone there. I just hope nobody is disillusioned when they actually see. . . me.
I'll be the large nerdy woman peeking wistfully out from behind the curtains. Would you, um, want to exchange business cards with me? It's okay if you'd rather save yours for the interesting people. Here, take one of mine anyway.
It's five o'clock in the morning, and I'm obviously still up. I'd go to bed but there are things on my mind.
You know, like whether or not Alex(is) Meade really keeps "it" in a glass of water. I think it would be kind of cool if she did.
Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly
Posted by Mamacita (The REAL one) @ 4:09 AM | |