When I was in high school I tried out for the Cheerleading/Pom squad three times. If you are one of my children you know how this ends. I did not make the team. Not the first time. Not the second time. And certainly not the third time where I was laughing so hard at the absurdity of it all I could barely get through the “original routine” part of the tryout.

I guess no one wants to see a short Greek girl hopping around to Huey Lewis’ “Back in Time,” complete with hand motions that included pointing to my wrist where a watch would be in order to illustrate the “time” component.  It was horrible. And awesome. And funny. And I tell this story all the time.  So often, in fact, that when I felt stuck last week and asked my brother what I should write about he said: “Make it about the Pom squad.”  You would think after two years of writing this blog I would have exhausted my embarrassing stories, but I guess not. In my defense, I had to be talked into that third try-out.

Here’s the thing: I am not graceful.  I am not delicate.  I am not even athletic.  Once, several years ago, I tried to hit a baseball during Teddy’s batting practice. I just wanted to see if I could do it.  Someone videoed me, and honestly, it was painful to watch.  And not just the batting. If you are in the least bit clunky, I do not recommend watching yourself run to first base. You can never unsee that image.

Of course, none of these challenges stopped me from entering the Jr. Miss contest senior year of high school. I am laughing just writing this. What business did I have participating in a beauty pageant? (I would imagine in this day and age this contest does not exist anymore or is called something else).  I am not sure if I simply had unwarranted confidence or if I was just “too dumb to doubt,” but there I was, in my formal gown, sashaying to Aquarius by The Fifth Dimension.  We actually had a detachable cape that we used as a prop for our choreographed poise and appearance routine.

Next came the physical fitness routine.  I’m sure you can guess how well I did, so I won’t bother to elaborate. I seem to remember jumping around in a sparkly leotard and tuxedo jacket with tails.  The third category was talent. While the other girls played the piano, sang, or did gymnastics, I chose to dance.  Nope.  Not what you’re thinking. It was GREEK FOLK DANCING. And there is nothing elegant about it. I mean, how much worse can it get than me stomping around in a costume from the 1800s while everyone else is prancing around in sequins and sparkles?  Once again I will ask myself the question I have asked myself almost every time I write a blog.  What were my parents thinking?  Why didn’t someone put me in piano lessons when I was 7 or 8 like the other parents’ did? Why not a tap class here or there?  I wasn’t even in Little League. I did try church basketball once but my contact fell out during my very first game and that was the end of that.

Back to the pageant. So even though I struggled through the dancing and the tumbling and sashaying, the joke ended up being on all the other girls.  And you want to know why? Because the SCHOLARSHIP portion of the contest counted for FIFTY PERCENT of the total score!!  YES!! And everyone knows you can’t be pretty AND smart!!  (Just kidding, just kidding).

While all the cool kids were playing sports and taking dance classes and going to the beach and having friends and generally just having fun at parties, I was at home reading and doing homework.  Well, I’m sure you can guess how that paid off.  (HINT: Not socially).  But I ACED that 50% of the Jr. Miss pageant. Bumped me right up to third runner-up.  I don’t think anyone in my family (let alone me) could believe it.

Side Note: The winner of Clarkston’s Jr. Miss 1987 was my then (and still now) BFF Mary Ellen.  This was not a surprise as Mary Ellen singlehandedly disproves the “you can’t be pretty and smart” theory.  She is also kind and funny and totally deserving of winning blah blah blah. Someday I will write an entire blog on how Mary Ellen Wins at Life but then I will have to let her write a rebuttal probably titled,  “You guys I’m not perfect” so that day is not today.

Here is where there is usually a “lesson learned” wrap up. And I won’t let you down. Years later, when I was in sales, I used to read a lot of motivational training books.  One of these offered a somewhat novel point of view for the time.  It recommended that you forget about practicing hard on what you’re NOT good at.  Instead, just work harder on what you ARE good at and get GREAT at that.  Reading this book was liberating. Forget about “I think I can I think I can”…maybe just accept I CAN’T! Why should I try to throw a frisbee or toss a ball?  Everyone knows I’m not going to catch it back. Why keep trying to make intricate cakes? Time and experience have shown me I CANNOT decorate a cake! This philosophy gave me permission to quit.  I was DONE trying to iron shirts! Done trying to swim laps and only make it halfway across the pool!  No more guilt over getting that cleaning lady…I can’t help it if I am no good at scrubbing toilets.  From that point on, I started to focus on the things I WAS good at.

So if you need me, I’ll be at Starbucks focusing on getting GREAT at things like telling jokes, making fun of people, speaking impulsively, playing the Yahtzee app, relaxing, scrolling the internet, and curating an entire Twitter feed of dog videos. Wish me luck.