7:15 am: 1st alarm goes off. I roll over, hit snooze, and pray that the next 8 minutes feel like hours.
7:23 am : 2nd alarm goes off. Drag my zombie like body to the shower and attempt to get clean. Washing my hair makes me weak and winded.
7:50 am: Get out of the shower (finally), feel like hell, lay down on the bed for a minute…
8:10 am: Look at my soaking wet comforter and realize I should have changed out of my towel before laying down “for a minute”.
8:30 am: Overnight, I’ve gone from fat to pregnant, and my top for the day no longer fits. Panic, and start trying on everything I own.
8:50 am: Finally settle on a “well, it’s not that bad” outfit.
9:00 am: 12 kisses and 5 hugs later, LJ lets me out the door.
9:15 am: Note to self, a sausage and egg McGriddle is not a good idea.
With how the morning was going, I knew this day was going to be a rough one. I felt like garbage, looked decent at best, had 2 hours on the road by myself to go, and oh yeah… I was about to speak to a room full of bloggers. No biggie.
I’d been looking forward to this past Saturday for months. I’ve been to a few blog conferences before, but never one where I was asked to speak. The few days prior I’d been feeling pretty awful, so I made sure to rest up, enjoy lots of couch time, and watch endless hours of Pixar movies and HGTV. There was no way I was going to let a little thing like growing a child get in my way.
So when Saturday arrived and I felt like I’d been hit by a bus, it took all my strength to simply get out of the door. This was not the image I wanted to project.
I’m a style blogger, should I arrive in something, oh, stylish? I was set to speak to a room full of bloggers I’ve “known” for awhile, bloggers who’ve “known” me for awhile, and bloggers and I was dying to meet. All I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and pretend this was happening another day.
By the time I got down to Huntington Beach, I felt slightly better, but far from my usual self. I stopped at Target for the mandatory box of Kleenex with lotion, and therefore cover-up to fix my nose. Though I brought two pairs of adorable wedges, I opted for my hot pink TOMS, cause frankly I didn’t have the energy to give a crap if I was having a short day.
The day consisted of pants that wouldn’t stay up, despite a rubber band and belly band, failed crafts, girl talk of boobs that no longer fit into my already giant bra, ding dongs stacked on my forehead, and simply me in all my glory.
I was too worn out to care what impression I was making. Too tired to care if I was living up to the image everyone had of me. Sweating too badly to look graceful while sharing my talk. I was there, I was me, and that was about all I could muster up.
Alissa (I should have listened to you and stayed at your house) from Rags to Stitches
The funny thing is, no one seemed to bat an eye. Everyone was so nice, so caring, and so willing to grab me a snack or a drink. I didn’t have to explain, everyone just accepted me. When so often I feel like I don’t fit in, it was amazing to be in a room full of women who just accepted me for how I was.
I didn’t need my wedges, or the great top I planned to wear. My upset stomach or gratuitous butt shots during speed dating didn’t matter. I was me, and that was good enough.
I have so much more to say on the wonderful day that was the Elevate Conference, but I just had to share this. So often we women race to put each other down, judge, snicker, gossip, look down at each other. That day, a day where by the looks of it a lot could have been said, nothing but hugs and congratulations were given.
I wish everyday could be like this.