As I turned the key one more time and prayed to the Jetta gods for some kind of automotive miracle, my dog licked my arm and barked. It sputtered for 10 seconds before dying and I looked over at Jax with dismay.
I had sweat trickling down my boobs, a bag of dog treats tucked under my arm, and a water bottle on the dashboard. I had frizzy hair tied up in a bird's nest, a wedgie from the old underwear I had quickly slipped on, and a speck of ketchup on the side of my mouth. I also had with me, a mental list of the 114 things I had to do today that all, of course, required a working automobile.
Jax panted and I realized I was not the only one with sweat down my boobs. I opened the windows, letting the 90 degree heat pour in and looked her in the eye.
Do we cry...should we laugh...well, we should most definitely text the boyfriend that was 2 hours away at a Bachelor party. He couldn't do anything for us at the moment but we did want to make sure he knew we were suffering.
As we unfolded our bodies from the disgruntled array of metal, I glanced down the street and saw simmering heat on the pavement. I knew back inside the house was cool but the pup had been promised the dog park and I was going to give her...something. Dropping the treats, water bottle, and purse in the backyard we started running. Wedgie ensued, hair flopped down, and my shorts (thinking they were going to the dog park) quickly crept up past my belly button. Jax had her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, her leg tangled around the leash, and a smear of spit across her nose.
We were a vision.
We trotted, and I thought. What do I do now. I had the whole day planned- with my competition next weekend, I knew I needed to get stuff done before the crazy week began. There's a whole lotta shite a girl needs to do to look "naturally" beautiful on show day (see above, i.e. bird's nest hair) and I was planning on doing it all today.
I was going to wear out Jaxster at the dog park, drop her off at the house, and go get a trial run of my show makeup. Next was a trip to the salon where eyebrows were going to be waxed then nails glammed up. Then off to the gym for a HIIT sesh in the air conditioning. Later, I would stop for some fresh vegetables and prepare salads for the week. Then, probably, a trip to the pond for another walk around with the pup.
A car honked its horn and interrupted my thoughts. I realized, in an instant, literally zero of the activities above were happening today.
As we walked and thought and panted, I realized this was perfect.
I had planned all week for a ferocious weekend of productivity- I had made the appropriate calls and arranged the perfect schedule. I had done everything I could and yet, life had other plans.
It was perfect, I concluded, as Jax picked up a questionable rubber item off the sidewalk, because this may happen next weekend too.
"Prep", or the amount of time before a show that a competitor uses to get ready, is exactly what it states- it prepares you for competition day. It's a plan, it's a schedule, it's a strategy. Days are detailed, meals are precise, and workouts are particular. You are planning, during this time, to have the best possible show day.
But sometimes, as I swatted a fly against my arm, the best doesn't quite happen. Sometimes you can plan perfectly and the imperfect happens. Sometimes old cars die and sometimes eyebrows are not waxed. Sometimes, shows do not go to plan. Even after preparation, funky things can happen.
Jax and I got home and into the cool air.
Later, we played tug of war, I emailed my grandma, I Instagrammed up some meals, I went for a run. I watched some tv, I layed on a yoga mat, I lit candles and enjoyed the sound of rain. I did laundry and drank tea and looked at old pictures.
I did all things I wasn't planning on doing today and none of the things I was.
It was a wonderful day.
I've been planning for over 3 months to have a sublime show day. I have stuck to a schedule and maintained a strategy to have a perfect day.
But, I could break my arm on Wednesday. I could have an allergic reaction and look like a cream puff. I could break my bikini bottoms 2 minutes before getting on stage. I could forget my lip gloss. I could get a call from a family member desperately needing to talk and miss the show altogether. I could break a heel and land on my tanned arse.
Despite everything I've done to prepare, these things could happen. Because life, interestingly enough, doesn't plan around us. It doesn't avoid a Jetta breaking down or dodge a clear heel snapping off. What we do have control over, in this entertaining game called Life, is our reaction to it.
As I reflect on this interesting day, I am thankful. Because despite a lot going wrong, the day was very right. It was filled with relaxation and smiles and peace. And it was exactly what I needed before next weekend.
I know that whether a bikini bottom breaks or my bum looks like a marshmallow, it will be okay. Plans can be broken but something greater can result.
Today, thank you Life, you've prepped me for some more of you.
