Who You Calling Talented?

I knew winning my tiara was going to be tough. But I didn’t realize how tough—until we got our instructions for our third mission. The challenge? Show the world, and the pageant judges, how talented you are.

I was stumped.

I briefly considered lots of options. For instance, I can’t sing well, but I’m quite good at singing badly, so I thought about taping myself singing the worst rendition of  “Do-Re-Mi” you’ve ever heard. But even I have some limits (and stuff you put on the internet? Never goes away. Ever).

Next, I thought about dancing with my dog. On tape. Yes, this is something I do. No, he doesn’t like it. And since we can’t compete with this guy:

I decided to let it go.

I even thought about stunt falling down the stairs, since that’s what I do best. But, because that really is my biggest talent, there’s far too much chance of that going horribly wrong. So I didn’t.

But while I might be lacking in the “super huge talent” category, I do have lots of little things I do really well. So that’s what I’m going to share with you today. My Top Ten Tiny Talents.

I bake a damned good boxed cake—Despite the fact that I have never actually made a cake from scratch, I have a reputation for being a great baker (my brownies are kind of famous). My secret? Voodoo, of course.  What, you thought I’d actually give it away?

I have a knack for getting lost—I love to drive. But I can’t follow directions to save my soul. In my mind, the sun sets in the east, Florida lies to the north, and one-way streets are always headed in the wrong direction. Once, I directed my husband to drive two hours down the wrong highway before I realized what I had done.

I plan excellent imaginary vacations—Traveling, especially to warm, sunny destinations, is just about my favorite thing in the whole world to do. See how happy I look?

So, when I’m feeling sad, mad, fed-up or just plain bored, I get online and ferret out the best vacation deals around. Cruises, flights, car rentals—I find it all, take it all the way to the point where they’re asking me for money…and then click out. It’s masochistic, really.

I give good rant—As I may have mentioned a time or two, I have quite the temper. The only way I’ve found to simmer down? Let loose a good solid rant. These diatribes generally include lots of colorful language, magnificent insults…the works. My husband said they actually are film-worthy, but he didn’t want to make me mad enough to capture one for your viewing pleasure.

I make fabulous messes—Remember the character Pig Pen from Peanuts? I am the real life version of him. As soon as I enter a room, it becomes a disaster. Clothes fall to the floor, papers get disorganized and inch-thick dust appears from nowhere. It’s one talent I’d gladly give up.

I look good in hats—Skinny jeans? I don't think so. Sweater coats? Only if I want to look like I'm wearing my giant mother's clothes. But hats? Hats I can do (and really? not many people can).

 

But since I generally don't allow pictures of me to be taken, whether I'm wearing a hat or not, this is the best proof I can muster up. You'll just have to take my word for it.

I’m a fair weather speed-reader—Hand me a 500 page novel, leave the room for a few hours, and when you come back, I’ll be done. I tear through books like nobody’s business. Unfortunately, this talent only applies to things I want to read. Give me a textbook and tell me to read 100 pages, and when you come back, I’ll be sound asleep.

I can spell almost anything—Seriously. Give me a word, any word, and I’ll spell it for you. I even won a spelling bee once. But the advent of spell check has rendered this fabulous talent virtually useless. Damn you, dictionary.com!

I can predict the weather—I’m not a meteorologist or anything, but I can tell you when the weather’s about to change. When the barometric pressure starts doing its thing, my knee begins to pulse with pain. It hits a fever pitch about six hours before any big storm is due. Want to know if you should take an umbrella? Ask my knee.

I make damn cute babies—I may be biased, but I’m pretty sure Tori’s the most adorable baby on the face of the planet.

 

And I take all the credit.

That’s it! Those are my Ten Tiny Talents. Now head on over to MomDot and see what the other Bloggers and Tiaras contestants have to say for themselves.

Owning My Beauty.

This morning when I looked in the mirror, I said, "hello, beautiful." And then I snorted.

So I tried again. “I said, hello, gorgeous.” My reflection eyed me warily, but didn’t respond.

“You really are beautiful. A beautiful woman.”  This time, I couldn’t help the roll of my eyes.

You see, I’ve never been comfortable with my appearance. Never been able to love the skin I live in.

Even as a little girl, I knew I didn’t look quite right. I just wasn’t sure why. The twirly skirts, the pigtails tied with bows…I loved them. But the playground teasing I endured assured me I had it wrong.

Then, as a teenager, I wore glasses, had acne and a mouthful of braces. I was short, had an odd sense of style and struggled with my weight. That, of course, was a recipe for disaster. Especially when coupled with an innate shyness and a tendency to hide my nose in a book.

Eventually, though, I came out the other side. The braces came off, the glasses gave way to contacts, and the acne…subsided. And I? Became a not-too-terrible-looking human being.

But the damage was done. I couldn’t see the reality of what was staring back at me in the mirror. I could only see what I lacked. 

Instead of the pretty blue eyes, I saw only the crooked nose.

Instead of the fantastic smile, I saw only the stained teeth.

My boobs were too big. My thighs were too large. Even my feet were too wide.

I was a melting pot of flaws.

Now, of course, I look back and think, “you idiot. Why didn’t you appreciate what you had?”

And then I go back to beating my self-confidence into the ground.

But that has to end. And it has to end now. As I’ve already mentioned a time or five (million), I have a daughter now. And, as I’ve also said, she needs a strong, self-confident role model.

So, I’m trying to see myself for the wonderful human being I am, flabby belly, chubby thighs and all.

That belly is poochy because it performed a miracle.

Those thighs are supported by some damn fine calves.

I have a fantastic smile.

I have pretty blue eyes.

I am strong.

I am smart.

I am sexy.

I am beautiful.

This post was written for the first Bloggers and Tiaras challenge at MomDot. The task? Define what beauty means to you. If you think I've done a good job, you might want to head on over there and vote for me. There's some serious bling at stake. And I? Would really like some pretty pearls to go with my tiara.

I'm Gonna Get Me a Tiara.

I am not particularly pretty. Or talented. But thanks to Trisha over at MomDot.com, I've got a chance to win my very first pageant—and, I guess, so do all of you. She's holding a blogging contest, which will involve competing in blogging activities from November 9-20.

Oh, and there will be judges. Secret judges. Judging our entries. But, you, my dear readers, are encouraged to cheer for me (loudly) and help me get my tiara. Or, if you decide to play too, you can talk smack about me (but I'd rather you didn't. I'm fragile, you know).

But don't you worry. I will win a tiara. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little competitive. Now, to enter, you have to answer some questions...but they didn't say you had to follow the questionnaire to the letter.

So here it is. My official entry into Bloggers and Tiaras.

Who the heck are you?

I'm Amber. You all know me as the writer of Amber Page Writes, because, well, that's what I do. Write. If you want to find me on twitter, you'll find me at, well, amberpagewrites. I'm in advertising, after all. I have to live the brand.

This is me at the only professional photo shoot I've ever been a part of (alas, alack, alaska, it was pre-baby and twenty odd pounds ago. But I'll get back there, damn it).

Have you made any attempts at earning a tiara before?

That would be a resounding no. I'm pretty sure if I tried, I would be laughed off the stage.

Got any talent?

That would depend on who you ask.  I'm an expert at tripping, falling, walking into immovable objects and otherwise injuring myself. I also turn 500 lovely shades of red when embarrassed, surprised, angry or experiencing strong emotion of any kind. Oh, and I grow some excellent dust bunnies.

We know you're an internet junkie. Now drop and give us five...sites that is.

Only five? But I visit so many! Well, there's twitter, of course. And facebook. Those are not just daily destinations, but semi-hourly checkpoints. I also check in at blogher and Jezebel, and...wait for it...Google Reader.

Show us you're a well-rounded person. What's your favorite thing to do when not blogging?

Sleep? No, I'm pretty sure that doesn't count. Truthfully, I read. Books, blogs, billboards...if it's got words, I read it. Yeah, I'm pretty exciting.
 

You've got unlimited vacation time and all the money in the world. Where do you go?

I would rent a luxurious villa on a tropical island. It would, of course, be oceanfront, with a coral reef within snorkeling distance. There would be an infinity pool, gourmet food, calorie-free pina coladas, and (this may be sacrilege) no internet access.

Who's your blogging hero?

Well, like so many others, I started blogging because of dooce.  I mean, come on, she's actually managed to make a career out of it—complete with a book and TV appearances. Say what you will, that woman's a force to be reckoned with. But Jen Lancaster is a close second. She's a riot—and she's on her fifth book.

You're a magazine cover girl for a day. Which one do you choose and why?

Hmmm. This one's tough. But to be completely vain, I'd want it to be a fashion magazine. Glamour comes to mind. Why? Because I want to be fussed over by makeup artists and hair stylists. I want to wear the pretty clothes. And I want to see what I would look like after being subjected to all that photoshopping work. And at least Glamour uses real(ish)-looking women. Don't tell my daughter that I'm not a real feminist 'kay?

Tell the truth…you want a tiara, don’t you?

Damn straight. I always did like to play dress up.

What does blogger success mean to you?

Well, in my wildest dreams, I get a gigantic audience and a multi-volume book deal so profitable that instead of vacationing on that tropical island, I can live there. But more realistically? I just hope to be entertaining enough to develop a semi-respectable readership, become a slightly less small fish in the bloggin' pond, and make even more friends.

Because the comments I get and the friends I'm finding? Are what make it all worthwhile.