I went into this contest not expecting anything. In fact, at the time I decided to compete not because I was looking to win, but because I have been kicking my own ass for my NPC fitness contest – which is Saturday by the way – and I look damn good. I also spent a lot of money on a most adorable bikini that I then spent more money on by painstakingly gluing Swarovski crystals to. I figured why not show off my hard work and my most adorable bikini? So I signed up and expected nothing.
On the day of the contest I came in feeling like a million dollars. The night before a friend had given me a gorgeous set of extensions (meant to give me in edge afore mentioned NPC contest this weekend) that took me from a short A-line to long curls. I also had my amazing gold bikini all ready to go. Plus I did a really good job on my eye makeup. Basically you can wrap all that up in a neat little bow called “I was feeling hot.”
So I went up on stage and strutted my stuff. Uniform, dress, bikini – I rocked them all. I waved. I blew kisses. I popped my hip. I disgusted myself with how bubbly I became with so little effort. Essentially, I was a nearly perfect example of a Hooters Girl.
|First runner up, second runner up, winner|
When it finally came town to announce the winner, I still expected nothing. Sure, it would be nice to win and spend nine glorious days in Miami, but I certainly wasn’t going to be upset if that didn’t happen. So when the crowning began and I suddenly found myself with a pink runner-up sash around my neck I was totally content. I got second and that, my friends, was awesome.
Then they announced the winner. And that surprised everyone. A wonderful girl who has been with Hooters Missoula since we opened, was also surprised to win. It wasn’t that she shouldn’t have, it was that this girl was pregnant. Not very pregnant, but pregnant none the less.
In that moment, she looked at me and I looked at her and had the sudden realization that I very well could be going to Miami to represent our store. And the next day that is exactly what I was told. Well sort of anyway.
My owner called me the next day to say that though I had placed second, the odds were very good that I would be the one going. In fact my odds were so good that he said, “ok, you’re going.” While there was obviously still I chance that things would change, I was left to believe that through a crazy set of circumstances I had found myself as Miss Hooters Missoula.
For a week I wrapped my head around the idea that I would be going to Miami. I thought about all the things I would need to prepare. I thought about what my costume would be for the vendor show. I thought about how small my “fit girl” boobs would look.
And exactly a week later my owner called me again. He told me that circumstances had changed and that the winner would indeed be our representative. Now before you jump to horrid conclusions, I’ll be the first to say that I think this girl is not the type that would ever do anything drastic for a bikini contest. Of course rumors have flown, but I don’t believe a one of them.
Initially I was disappointed. In fact, I was surprised by my disappointment. While I’d prepared myself for not going, I’d also become excited for the idea that I very well might; I had been looking forward to it without even really realizing it. I couldn’t help but be a little bummed.
So all this is why I didn’t go into detail about the contest. To be honest, I was waiting until I could tell you that I was going to Miami. The story wouldn’t have been complete without that bit of information. Instead, I come to you finishing second and not being upset about it.
I love my Hooters family and couldn’t be happier for the dear friend who will be representing us in Miami; I know she’ll do a good job. Would I have liked to go? Sure, but it certainly wasn’t my desire or my expectation. My desire was only to be confident and proud of the hard work I’ve put in changing my body composition. My desire was to represent myself as the strong, fit, happy woman that I am. And that I certainly accomplished.