Gig Recap

Today’s Attire: Today I’m wearing a black jersey knit cap sleeve tee (White House Black Market $31.50) with a cotton white skirt with thin black stripes (White House Black Market $45.99) with my black and white mesh and leather loafers (Rockport Outlet $19). I accessorized with a wide black belt with silver and gold buckle (White House Black Market Outlet $6), and sequin applique headband (Random accessory store in Santa Barbara $4), and my typical star pendant with matching necklace (Tiffany & Co).

Outfit Justification:  I purchased this outfit over the weekend. The outfit was very flattering on me and my shape. I looked cute in the store and even customers were coming up to me in the store and saying how adorable I looked. Sometimes you can’t ignore unsolicited compliments. So I decided to wear it today.

Gig Recap:

I’ve been dreading writing this particular blog today. I have some very heavy emotions about Friday night’s gig. It didn’t go as well as I hoped.  I spent most of Sunday beating myself up about it. So writing about it gives me a little bit of anxiety. But I made a silent vow with myself that I was going to be very brutally honest about my life in this blog, and I’ve got to continue with it. I owe it to myself (and I guess to my readers).

Let’s start with the good part about it: the wardrobe.  I’ve spent a week working on the outfit. Everything thing revolved around a pair of very special jeans. About 2 weeks ago I walked through Nordstrom and saw these very darling black coated jeans that looked like leather pants. They stopped me dead in my tracks. I examined them up close and personal. They were gorgeous. They had a size I thought I could possibly get into. The salesperson told me to try 2 sizes smaller than I normally wear. I was very quick to explain to her “I’m bigger than I look. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to fit into a size 12 pair of jeans”. She asked me to humor her because they run and big and they stretch. I decided to humor her by trying them on. Low and behold these jeans were some divine invention. Not only did the size 12 fit, they made me look about 2 sizes smaller than I normally look. And they looked hot. My husband confirmed that last tidbit.  Normally when I find a pair of pants/jeans that make me look that good it’s a no brainer purchase.  This wasn’t a no brainer purchase because they were $130. I’m no stranger to expensive designer jeans, but I couldn’t justify that expense. I had to walk away. After almost a full week these jeans were haunting me in my sleep. I tried to find a less expensive similar pair of jeans, but I had to have them. After discussing with my husband and my friend Starr, I had to go back and get them. I spent another hour trying them on and contemplating it. I decided they had to be mine and purchased them. I’m so glad I did. I bought and returned 4 different tops trying to make these magic jeans work for the gig.  Ultimately I found a beautiful black brocade halter corset from Fredericks of Hollywood. This corset did its job by making my midsection smaller and pushed “the girls” on a pedestal to make them scream “Look at me”. The outfit took form with both of these incredibly hot pieces. I then then added a beautiful nylon peplum waist zip up jacket. It was clear I was trying to go for the dark sexy look. I almost looked gothic with more polish to it than a typical goth look. In many ways that’s who I think I am as an artist. I completed the outfit with new black boots that had silver studs and the ankle.  My hair was swooped up into an up do. I completed the look with extra dramatic false eyelashes, black sparkly eye shadow and dark blue eyeliner and bronze shimmer on my lips. After it was all put together, I looked great. I got so many compliments. I was nervous. 

I spent a week staying away from karaoke, practicing my two songs. But even throughout the week I noticed I was having issues. Some were voice related issues and the other was a huge attack of the nerves.  Included with this was a huge case of self-doubt. All week I was worried. And when Friday night rolled around inside I was freaking out. I was trying to psych myself up. Trying to get into my zone, I did my warm ups, drank my throat coat tea and water.  Listened to the songs over and over on repeat to make sure I had the lyrics down.

Reality Bites:

I’m going to write this part fast because it hurts my heart to even think about it. I wasn’t as good as I expected to be. I messed up and forgot lyrics. I sang a song I hadn’t planned on singing because of a miscommunication.  In my head this was an absolute disaster. I started with Old Time Rock And Roll. I started well and then flubbed a line because the self-doubt was getting to me. And when we went into Open Arms, I was freaking out because I couldn’t remember the words because this wasn’t a song I had practiced. I was mortified. I wasn’t good at hiding the fact that I didn’t remember the words. I started fidgeting as I screwed up the words. I was freaked. I was mortified. I was hating myself for screwing this up.  I was grateful that not many of my friends had shown up because I didn’t want them see how badly I was screwing this up.

After the songs I sang lead on were over, I was asked to stay up on stage and sing back up. I was happy to do that because that was fun. But at the same time I wanted to get the hell of that stage and go cry in the bathroom and hide. But I was up there and did the best that I could. It helped that my friend Starr was up there too. Singing back up for her was a big honor. 

Somehow I think that helped me get through the end of the night. I tried not to wallow on my disaster of a performance. People were complimenting me during the break. I appreciated that. When people said I was great, I had to fight the urge to say “No I sucked big time, but thanks for being nice”.  I smiled and thanked them.  My husband was really excited and said I did great. But he could see that I wasn’t very happy with my performance. The end of night came, I had the opportunity to mess up another lead song that I can normally do in my sleep. The damage was done. I felt like a huge failure. I felt like I had let down my friends Starr and Patrick, who were kind enough to give me the shot.

I think I did my best to suppress my feelings and thoughts on Saturday. I managed to shop my cares away for a bit. I had a pleasant evening with my inlaws and my husband. Because I believe in self sabotage I drank too much to the point where I got sick. Sunday I was hungover most of the day.  My husband wanted to do something to cheer me up and let me see the video he took of my performance. Watching it all over again sent me off somewhere terrible. I was horribly upset seeing how imperfect I was. He tried to convince me it wasn’t that bad. I’m a perfectionist. Seeing such a flawed performance hurt me to the core. Jeff explained to me that it’s only been 2 months since I had surgery and the recovery of that has been hard on me. He said I needed to cut myself a break. It will get better from here. He said he had faith in me. He said he believed in me.  He told me that he doesn’t like to see me beat myself up over this. Between his consoling and encouraging texts from Starr, I finally conceded to not wallow anymore and move on.

So that’s where I am.  I’m still wounded from my less than perfect performance, but at least I got out there. Hopefully I will get the chance again to prove that I’m better than that.