Turning fifty was like getting a permission slip from God. “Go forth and do that which ye desires because, time is a wasting my dear!” said the note. Message received, oh heavenly One.
The relief was tremendous. Finally, it was OK to open that box of treasured “what ifs” I had secretly been stashing for more years than I can remember. Unfortunately, the box full of thoughts was tucked away for more practical and suitably acceptable pursuits.
By the time I was thirty-six I was a registered lobbyist convincing elected officials to pass bills addressing transportation funding, anti-stalking legislation, and impaired driving. In my world I interfaced with power brokers and politicians. My wardrobe consisted of suits in shades of navy blue and black. My hair color was carefully maintained at the “smart blonde” tint least a tad lighter take me to a different level of credibility.
Of course this was all well orchestrated around the schedule of two darling daughters whose academic, sports, and social lives were interwoven to the best of my ability. Though never quite perfect in my own eyes, from the vantage point of others, I lead a glamorous life.
Shortly after my 50th birthday, I found myself day-dreaming about one of many ideas I had placed in my secret box of “what ifs.” The truly glamorous life was still tucked away in my hidden treasure trove.
Maybe it was the adrenalin rush from the tenth viewing of my copy of The Secret DVD. Or, maybe it was learning I was going to become a grandmother. Whatever the cause I decided to bring daylight to darkness. There was a box of bucket list worthy “to dos” and it was time to start cracking!
Subordinating the little voice screaming, “have you gone daft?!” I entered the Mrs. Oregon International pageant. I won my state title. It was at that moment the collision of my two worlds took place.
My employer was none to happy to have a beauty queen as executive director for a statewide non-profit. Evidently, even fifty-year old pageant queens are considered dim and shallow.
