I’m one sleep away from flying down to Orlando, FL for the RWA National Conference. Many people have written and blogged about how to prepare to for this conference. I’ve read elaborate packing lists, workshop planning spreadsheets and etiquette pointers. All of these tidbits were very useful.
Packing is, for me, like grilling a steak. I’ve done it so many times, I can do it in my sleep. There is a list, one I modify depending on destination and purpose of the trip, but unless I am going to a country without any known shopping malls, I feel like I can buy whatever I forget. My greatest fear is loss of luggage, particularly when the destination is work related. I’ve got 4 new dresses packed, so I’ll be nervous about the luggage till it is back in my hands. But even if the unforeseen should happen, I can always take a cab to a mall and shop for clothes in a pinch.
I’m organized about the events I want to attend. I’ve been to two conferences for writing and know what I want to get out of this one. My pitch is ready, as ready as it can be, and I am pumped to go. I’ve got etiquette under control, though I might have an occasional Attention Deficit moment or a serious fan girl moment. At least I know what side of the main dinner my bread plate and my drink glasses are located. Whew.
But what I’m not prepared for is the two items I will have to wear starting tomorrow. Item number one is a watch. Those who know me will laugh because I am a Time Queen who is ultra aware of time of the day, ticking watches and more. It’s like I am a human sundial. I don’t need to wear a watch. I KNOW what time it is internally. It is a curse that goes along with the early rising syndrome.
One thing I have learned as I’ve grown older is that I don’t like is to be reminded of the time curse. The watch is a piece of jewelry I happily hide unless I am working out. Not only do I hate seeing the little second hand ticking away or the digital readout blinking at me, I just don’t like wearing a watch. It impedes my ability to type quickly into the keyboard and I don’t like anything touching my skin around my wrist.
But for this conference, and every other conference, I will wear my bangle watch because I have to be at certain places by certain times. And one thing I hate is being late for an event I am looking forward to attending. Ask my family. One reason why I no longer wear a watch on a daily basis is to spare them the ordeal of my time domino meltdown should we be running late.
Not kidding here.
Item number two on the list is SPANKS. Ugh. My voluptuous curves might need a bit of “control.” So I finally broke down and went to the local store to spend almost seventy dollars on UNDERWEAR! Bad enough I feel a tad bit chubby, but now I am spending an inordinate amount of money on foundation garments that are designed to constrict one’s body in an uncomfortable manner. Not only that, but they aren’t exactly sexy. One can be assured that my darling hubby will NOT want to see me in these oversized, scary looking girdle like contraptions.
And the name. Think about it: SPANKS. Really. It is like a slap up this writer’s head in more ways than one. First slap: I’m getting older. I used to buy sexy underwear for the same amount of moola. Now I’m bowing to the downward slide of the 40s. It’s not as easy to stay slim and have a flat tummy when you are approaching the dreaded middle years. Second slap? I’m not taking as good of care of myself as I should. When I return, it’ll be time to diet and exercise again regardless of the fact that I workout harder now to achieve less results.
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
Well, I have the dreaded foundation garments packed. But I have a confession: I may just let my tummy bulge and wear Crackbusting thongs instead. Who cares if I am slim? I’m going to a Romance Writer’s Conference, not a Hollywood premiere.