"This Didn't Play Like It Did In My Mind...."

This is how I picture it.
It feels like a short skirt/long jacket, 4 inch heel kind of day.  I do not wobble as I walk into the conference room. I am confident, holding my head high.  I command attention and respect from the start.  My presentation is perfect.  I am articulate.  I am the picture of professionalism.  I answer every question without missing a beat.  I convey my ideas and thoughts accurately. I react calmly to every differing opinion, collaborating effectively and productively.  I deserve a glass of champagne. 

This is how it happens.
It feels like a short skirt/long jacket, 4 inch heel kind of day.  Except it's raining and muddy so jeans and a hoodie are really more practical.  I trip over my rain boots as I walk into conference room, throwing off my confidence as well as my glasses.  My awkwardness commands attention.  My presentation is serviceable.  My face, of course, turns bright red as I begin speaking.  I stumble a bit.  I am the picture of nerves.  I answer every question in a long-winded way, confusing those who asked them further. I attempt to react calmly to differing opinions, but the redness of my face, neck and chest tell a different story.  I need a glass of water. 

This is how I picture it.
I walk into the event like I own it, wearing a little black dress and ass-lifting high heels.  Obviously, my legs look incredible.  I have a glass of wine in my hand, and I'm laughing along with others to the most hilarious story I just told.  He sees me before I see him.  I knew he'd be here, of course, and I'm ready to pick up our light banter, just slightly inappropriate flirting from our last meeting.  He sees me before I see him, and I turn & notice him.  A slow, super sexy smile moves over my red lips, and we begin a conversation that seems to last for days.  Captivating and charming, I am completely in control. 

This is how it happens.
I walk into the event cautiously because my dress is too short and my heels are too high.  Obviously, my legs look a little bit pasty.  I see him before he sees me, and I haven't even had time to have a sip of wine yet.  My face immediately turns red.  Totally & completely red.  He greets me, and I say hello, but I can't quite make eye contact.  I turn to talk to others instead, but the story I begin completely misses.  I laugh nervously and avoid looking at him because there's nothing else to do.  He asks me a question, and I slowly turn my red face toward him.  We begin a conversation that seems to last for 3 minutes.  Nervous and awkward, I am blowing my cover.

This is how I picture it.
I am running and running and running, light on my feet, barely breaking a sweat.  I've got the eye of the tiger and I'm running the world and I'm your teenage dream.  5, 6, 7, 8 miles, this is easy for me. Na na na na na, you can't catch me, fear!

This is how it happens.
I am running and walking and jogging and walking, red-faced and sweaty.  I'm bootylicious and I'm all about that bass and I'm making the rockin' world go round.  1, 2, 3, 4 miles, this isn't easy, nothing will ever be easy again.  Fear and self-doubt, catch me if you can!  Oh, shit.

And yet, and yet, and yet, I'm surprised every time.