Lets take another step towards embracing one's self...

Measurements.... ICK!

I have to send in my measurements for Saskatchewan Express.

As we've discussed, I'm trying to love my body, but I'm still not there yet. I have NEVER given my measurements to anyone, and because of this fact, I nearly didn't send in my audition forms.

My initial thoughts?

"They're going to see my measurements before they hear my voice and see my talent, and they're not going to give me a real chance to show what I can do!"

I hyperventilated about this for about two hours before finally talking to some friends.

The first friend I talked to was Johnny. His advice was:

Deep breaths, honey. 38 12 38. There's some measurements for you. Actually...You know what? Just send them in. Remember, the worst they can say is no. And if they don't let you sing? Take 'em to court for blatant discrimination. Get a few thousand dollars out of them. That'll learn 'em good!

Now... I'm not really that kind of person. I'd never take someone to court over something like that. But I could certainly threaten! Either way. It was good advice none the less and it DEFINITELY put a smile on my face! However, I still wasn't convinced. So I went to talk to my friend Brendan, who's done two cast for Sask. Express. His advice was pretty much:

You can do it. You're a great vocalist, and generally in winter, vocalists win. I have faith that you can do it. And I have faith that you'll get in. You know how you always tell me to have faith in myself? Well now it's your turn.

Okay. Starting to feel a LITTLE better about this. Next on the chatting roster was Brendan's Girlfriend, and my long-time best friend Dayne. She's just finishing a cast with Saskatchewan Express. One of the things that I love about Dayne, is that she tells things to me straight, because she knows I want the truth. This was no exception. She told me that while she believes I could do it, she's not going to make any promises that the people auditioning me are going to have the same feelings. She explained that the executive director is a woman who was raised as a performer in a time when skinny was everything, and she's very set in her ways. She also gave me a bit more to think about:

Now... While Carol is the Executive Director, she doesn't get ALL the say. They're not going to be able to deny that you're bigger than the usual performers that they have, I'm not going to lie... But they also won't be able to deny the fact that you have a beautiful voice. I'd say make up some measurements, but then your costumes won't fit. That's the only reason they ask for them, really.

I honestly don't know if you'll get in or not, but I know that you certainly won't if you don't even audition. Are they going to judge you on your weight? Or are they going to judge based on your beautiful voice and your ability to move like a queen? Who knows? Not me. But I DO know that you need to try. And I mean... If the job is getting done, who cares what size you are?

Like I said. I love Dayne. She's a good friend and has always been honest with me.

So now, I'm pretty much determined to do this again. I'm back on track. But I didn't even think I OWNED a measuring tape anymore. I thought I'd thrown them all away the last time I had to measure myself, vowing never to do it again. I had mom check the sewing kit.... Oh joy. There's one RIGHT on top. Wonderful.

So. It has come to this. The time to measure myself and send in the results. (Maybe I'm not so big and tough after all!!) I rolled the tape back and forth in my hands for about 20 minutes before mom comes into the room and asks why the long face. When I told her, she had a lecture lined up, like moms often do:

Khanida Simone. (Oh no! Not the middle name!!)Don't you dare be a hypocrite. You preach all these wonderful things about loving your body and owning your curves, and now you're going to let three numbers get in the way of your dream? Nuh uh. It's not like the world's looking at them! It's just the people who need to know for costumes. You know what? I don't want to see you do any more blogging about fat acceptance until you smarten up and stop being a hypocrite.

Ouch. That hurt. But it was the slap in the face I needed.

The defiant little brat inside me took that lecture as a challenge. So after she walked out of the room in a huff, I grabbed the evil measuring tape and took down the numbers. Sure they sting a little bit, but that's what ripping off a band-aid does. I'm taking that one step further and ripping off a bikini wax strip.

You've all seen my tummy in all of it's puckered, jiggly glory, so why not give you the three numbers that I've been hemming and hawing about for the last 10 paragraphs?

56-53-63

Yeah. That's right. I'm a pear.

Take THAT Mom!

And here I come, Saskatchewan Express. Take me or leave me.