Before we get into today’s post, some housekeeping details: My productivity book is now live on Amazon! For a limited time (March 17 - 21), you can get the e-book version FREE! I’d love your support in the form of ordering the book - and since it costs zero dollars for the next few days, it’s a win-win :). I’m curious to see what you think. Let me know.
All that being said: today I wanted to talk to you about confidence.
There was this one time…EXACTLY once….that I went to an “open call” audition for teen models.
I’ve never been a person who’d be considered conventionally attractive, but I got this flyer from a model agency in the mail that made me think maybe I was secretly hot and was just disguised in an “ugly duckling” body. All I needed were contact lenses and a makeover, right?
…I blame literally every 90s rom-com ever invented for this.
So, I begged my mom to take me to the mall for this open call.
There were a BUNCH of girls there. Most of them were better dressed than me. They were jutting their hips around and sticking their chests out and glowering. They looked GOOD - like, really convincing.
My heart sank…I just couldn’t move my body like that. I wasn’t skinny. I wasn’t graceful. I couldn’t do a fancy walk or a pose. I sat and waited for my turn, sweating.
The first phase of the audition was to walk the runway (not a real one, just the aisle between the chairs). You had to go back and forth until they said to stop. Then they would grade you. An A or B grade got you through to the next phase. A C grade was a “no thanks.”
Finally, my name was called out.
I got up, wearing the silver stretch-satin shirt and stirrup pants combo I’d decided was fashionable. (Did I mention it was the 90s?)
I got to the aisleway and I tried to strut, tried to walk in a hot way…jutting my hips out awkwardly, almost losing my balance. And I could FEEL everyone’s eyes on me. I could see them thinking, “WTF…this girl is SO EMBARRASSING”. I started to think about how at school I was just this weird girl that people passed fashion police* notes to.
And something in me…just snapped.
I yanked my head up. I was like, ENOUGH with the ridiculous hip jutting.
ENOUGH with the strutting.
If I was going to “walk the plank” to my social ruin, I was going to have a f*cking shred of dignity. I wasn’t going to stick my boobs out. I wasn’t going to be slinky. I was going to walk like the way I normally walked. Like a goddamned regular person.
Oddly enough, this had the effect of me straightening my posture and walking down that carpeted aisleway, scowling like I was on a mission…because I honestly wanted to punch someone at that point.
The model agency people - they let me walk forever. I kept praying for them to stop me…but had me go once, twice, three times. Then they had me sit down.
By the time I sat down, I knew it was time to leave.
I had just proved to myself that I actually didn’t need to go through with this. Because this wasn’t going to prove to anyone at school that I was cool…and I no longer needed it to.
We packed up and exited without even finding out what my grade was or if I’d made it through to the next phase.
So why did I tell you this story?
I think we think confidence is this thing that you have or you don’t have. Or that you practice or don’t practice.
But I think it’s innately in all of us…and it’s our natural state. I think confidence is the art of reminding yourself that you are not giving up your principles to further an objective that feels like a “record scratch” to you.
The point at which you say ENOUGH with the [whatever way you were posturing yourself that feels inauthentic to you.] And then you just let it all hang out.
That is both confidence AND power.
Because suddenly, a situation that was disempowering to you has flipped on its head. Suddenly you are the one in control.
This is the kind of vibe that makes people believe that you’ll be able to solve whatever weird twisted tussle of a project is happening this week. The kind of presence that makes people want to follow you into battle. The kind of aura that makes you magnetic.
So tell me…what do you innately know is true, and what have you had enough with?
Hope this served you today.
XOXO,
Cathy
*Fashion polices notes are a form of teenage-girl bullying from the ‘90s in which a note from the “fashion police” was passed to a girl that others deemed to be wearing some kind of terribly ugly outfit. It usually had your name, your fashion crime and something like “Violation!” or “$100 fine” scrawled on it.