Vienna. And Atlantic City.

This was Cha Cha’s Weekend of Rest and Relaxation. On one hand, it was wonderful. Friday, I got a massage and a full-body wrap. The wrap part was sort of like being a human burrito and I’ll probably pass on that bit of $80 goodness in the future … but the massage was divine. Saturday, I went antiquing with my mentor and found some goodies of the “This surely will transform my life” variety. And today? Today I took a tour of the community center, spent two hours reading the Sunday paper, and wrote a letter to Cingular telling them to eat shit and die.

All in all, a full and good weekend.

But tomorrow is Monday. And like a little kid who doesn’t want to go back to school, I’m not chomping at the bit to get back to Corporate Behemoth.

It’s not like they’re going to beat me, or that the world will have ended because I had the nerve to take one stinkin’ little Friday off. And, believe it or not, I actually really like my job. I like the people and I like what I do, and it makes me feel smart and that I’m contributing something important. It’s just a little insane right now. And there are no massages and no being transformed into a human burrito.

However, tomorrow does come with amazing promise. There she is, Miss America!

I have a love/hate relationship with this pageant – err, I mean scholarship program. My mom was the director of our local Miss America pageant when I was growing up, and I just idolized those girls. I even received a baby gift from my state’s reigning queen. Yeah, I know people.

My mom used to practice judging by watching Miss America. She’d have a legal pad and jot notes. It’s really funny, actually. So many little tricks – wear black if you’re trying to look thinner; if you’re really thin, wear white to show it off. Your legs should create three diamonds of space when you stand with your knees touching. And yes, I know how to tape boobs to create cleavage. It’s truly an art form.

Our local pageant folded after my mom stepped down and before I was old enough to compete. In all honesty, that crown would have been mine easily – I was a size 2 and sang opera in high school in a town where about 50% of girls were married and/or pregnant by the time they were 19. In my mind, competing in a pageant is still an option – never mind the fact that I’m in my 30s. And short and dumpy by glamazon pageant standards.

So, my love of Miss America is in direct conflict with my college minor in Women’s Studies. I know, I know – name one men’s scholarship program that requires the applicants to parade about in swimwear. I know.

Never mind the fact that most of the contestants spend waaaaaaay more on the clothes, the travel, the training just to have a fighting chance in the cutthroat competition. Never mind that detail. Let me live the dream, if just for one night, ok? For my talent, I’ll be singing an Italiain aria, and my platform is breast cancer awareness. You should see me in my evening gown …

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