My Life In A Not-So-Nutshell

I get that it confuses people... we parade around in bikinis and six inch heels and people often wonder if that is actually  the best way to judge our lifestyles. If you don't do or watch pageants regularly, I can see how that would be confusing or even troubling. In June, I had the pleasure of spending six days with 15 other beautiful contestants as we all continued our journey to Miss Iowa 2015. I've said it before and I'll say it again: these women are the most intelligent, selfless, hilarious, kind women I have ever known, and just being associated with them is an honor. For those not familiar with the Miss America Organization, we participate in five areas of competition. Talent, evening gown, onstage question, a ten minute private interview with the judging panel, and lifestyle and fitness in swimsuit. Most people think this last phase of competition is irrelevant or even "old-fashioned." (Disclaimer: the Miss America Organization began as a swimsuit co

I think we all get those thoughts. You know the ones I'm talking about. The doubts, the fears, the "holycrapI'mreallypyschingmyselfoutandIknowitbutcan'treallystopit" thoughts. I like to believe they happen to the best of us. I figure, a little self-doubt every once in a while never killed anyone. Hell, it probably made people a little bit smarter, more self-aware, all that good stuff. There comes a limit, though. I do know this. I know this because I am a *professional* in the area of self-doubt. I know this because *AT LEAST* twice a day I find myself questioning a thought, an action, something throughout the course of those 17 hours I'm awake. I'm sorry to inform you if you came here to learn anything spectacular from this post, you probably won't. This is merely my take on self-doubt, self-conflict, and hopefully, one day, complete  self-acceptance. I just read a really awesome graduation speech the other day. Matthew McConaughey spoke at The Un

My sophomore year began like any ol' college semester. It was normal. I really was having a bit of an identity crisis throughout the course of first semester... You're laughing, I know. I wasn't entirely sure where I was going with my major, my relationship, myself. I really wasn't sure of much of anything, actually. So I tried a disgusting amount to make sure I never felt like that again... To make sure I never felt unsure, unaware, or insecure. I changed my major, I worked hard at my relationship, I worked hard to make myself happy. And I did. But in true natural fashion, things in life happen. Second semester of sophomore year began on kind of a rocky surface anyway. If you've kept up with my writing, you'll know this entire blog began because of a few really unfortunate experiences I had. They were painful, they sat in my brain and consumed my thoughts, they made me into a different person. One of them was my story to tell, so I did. The other is not my

I originally wrote this post in the midst of a time when I was feeling guilty. Guilty for things I shouldn't have felt guilty for, but by the laws of genetics and basic human nature, if I do something I want  to do for me,  it undoubtedly eats at me. So now, this post is dedicated to all the people of the world (mainly my loved ones) who have felt like they needed to apologize... apologize for something you should've never in any way, shape, or form felt guilty about. I think we all feel the need to apologize everyday. Maybe you didn't hold that door for someone behind you, maybe you had yourself one too many the night before, maybe you said something you really didn't wholeheartedly mean to someone who wholeheartedly didn't deserve it. I think it happens to the best of us. I think someone, some thing makes us feel unknowingly liable everyday; and that is what I am here to talk about. I usually have some big revelation in which I write about (and, if you've

I should begin with a disclaimer: I didn't win anything tangible. You cannot touch what I won this past weekend. You cannot feel it unless you've experienced it. It's not something you can pick up and set down. And that's more than okay with me. I competed in a pageant this last weekend. Like I said in my previous post, I competed alongside 16 other beautiful, talented, incredibly intelligent young women. They are some of the most distinguished human beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I can safely say I have 16 new friends. Ladies, you were all wonderful. You are all unique in your own way, and spending time together this past week was exactly what I needed. Thank you all for being you. I don't think I'm a complete cynic. I really do believe in fate. I believe I've met the people I've met for a reason, and they all have had or have a reason for being present in my life at one point or another. Some have taught me a lot about love. So

I've done pageants since I was 12. I know, you're like, "oh, she's one of those  girls." I'm actually probably the least-pageanty pageant girl to ever walk the planet. I don't enjoy getting ready, my humor is dry, and I'd pick sweatpants over a dress any day of the week. Oh, and March Madness is life.  But when you're 12, can twirl a baton, throw on a dress and smile pretty, pageants are just what you do. I think a big misconception is that the girls who compete in said pageants are illiterate, inept, and uncoordinated. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. I've twirled baton and danced since I was 5. It's what I love, it's challenging, and you can never perfect it, which I guess for some would be terrifying. And for me is addicting. When you participate in pageants within the Miss America Organization (MAO), a required element is a community service project, better known as a platform. My platform when I began

I think we all lose a little. Or maybe you feel like you've lost a lot, but no one has been there to remind you people all over the world are without food, water, homes. My family is not your typical family. And if you've met any or all of us, you'll know this. Our family dynamic is incredibly far from the norm; I mean, I'll disclose information that my mom will probably murder me for, but my parents had me at age 43. My oldest sister was 15. It's not our ages that make us unique. Sure, for some people, that's part of it. But it's each individual member who makes our family so... (I don't mean to brag) boss. Leah's the oldest. Like I said, she was 15 when I was born. I've always really had a generous amount of respect for Leah. Not only because she tolerated the fact that I came into her life in the middle of her teenage years, but she quite simply has a giant heart. I'm not really sure how she does it. The woman studied abroad, lived

There's something in the water, I think. People I know are breaking up left and right. People in serious, long-term, committed relationships. I guess I should begin by stating that I just got out of a 14 month relationship. Point blank, it's not fun. It hasn't been fun. In fact, I am still able to actually count the hours since the break-up itself. And I guess that's also my reasoning for this post. I'm much better at putting down words than saying them, so commence therapy. In the past few days, I think I've really learned a lot about people (I know some of you are laughing thinking that what I know now will double in the next few years-- and I know that, too). People I've known, people I knew, people I wish would make an appearance again in my life (but won't), people I love, people I cherish, people I really, really dislike. I've thought about it all. I guess I would like to think of this post as a very friendly reminder to anyone who has or i