Miss Texas

Miss Texas 

When I look back on my life, I’ve spent some of my best years in the middle. And I didn’t even know it.

Most of us celebrate the big moments, usually the beginnings and the endings, while the middle gets overlooked? We send flowers for new jobs, champagne for engagements, and balloons for babies. We mark endings with farewell speeches, retirement parties, and countdowns. But the middle? The middle rarely gets the recognition it deserves. I want to change that.

The middle seasons of life have shaped me in the most profound ways. The space between “just getting started” and “I’ve got this figured out” is where the real work happens.

Six Long (and Glorious) Years

Take my Miss Texas journey. (Yes, I know it was a very long time ago. But stay with me here - the lessons still impact me to this very day.)

When I decided to compete for Miss Texas, I had no idea it would be a multi-year journey, with the highest highs and some pretty deep lows. For me, the appeal was simple: I wanted to sing and dance on live TV. That’s it. I was 18 years old, super naive, and very hopeful.

I showed up that first year full of enthusiasm and completely unprepared for what was ahead. I competed in the four required categories: interview, evening gown, swimsuit (which absolutely deserves its own blog post - stay tuned), and talent. On the final night of the competition, the show was broadcast live across Texas, and I assumed I’d be called into the Top 10. 

Spoiler alert: My name was never called.

Not in the Top 10. Not for one of the consolation awards for placements 11–20. Not for best variety act (I sang and danced so that was my category, along with a ventriloquist), best black evening gown (I wore velvet), best newcomer interview (I mean come on, I’ve got the gift of gab)…nothing! They gave out so many awards that night - and I never heard my name called. I stood there clapping, smiling through the sting of disappointment, surrounded by family and friends, and thinking… wait, what just happened?

It was painful. And eye-opening. And I was ready to do it again.

The Middle of the Journey

That first year was exciting. Everything was new. I loved preparing for interview which required in-depth knowledge about current events and politics. It was fun to wear all the pretty clothes. There’s even a gift room at Miss Texas. (Yes, people give you presents and flowers every day during the week-long pageant.) 

But after that first year, the middle section wasn’t quite as glamorous. No more anticipation. Fewer cheerleaders. It became something else entirely - steady, demanding work with little to show for it. I spent years fine-tuning my interview skills, not because I was struggling, but because I knew “good” wouldn’t cut it if I wanted to make the top 10. I practiced my dancing and singing daily, taking classes and private lessons. And, to varying degrees, I worked on fitness (remember there was a swimsuit competition). During those years, I competed in dozens and dozens of local pageants, trying each year to qualify for the state competition. I got a little better each year (I share the full story when I talk with audiences), but progress felt slow and the payoff was never guaranteed.

During those years, I wrestled with the same questions over and over: Is this worth it? Will I ever be good enough? What if this is just not meant to be? (Sound familiar?)

And yet, something kept me going. The stubborn streak? Maybe. The desire to perform? Definitely. But deep down, it was more than that. I knew I was growing, and an equation started to clarify in my mind: the harder I worked, the more I achieved - in equal proportions. That first year, I just sort of rolled in with the skills I had, and expected to do well. But in the middle, as my focus and intentionality grew, so did my success. And most important, every “no” taught me resilience.

Are you in the middle of something right now? Are you unsure if your efforts will ever pay off or questioning if you're on the right path? If so, congratulations! You’re in the middle! The excitement of the beginning has faded, and the finish line feels out of reach, but trust me when I say, there’s some magic happening right now. If you can just stick with it - there is a reward waiting on the other side. 

The Lessons 

In my speeches today, I often joke that my Miss Texas journey was essentially a masterclass in handling disappointment with grace. But the truth is, the lessons I learned along the way have shaped who I am to this day.

Those middle years taught me:

• Humility: Nothing humbles you like walking across a stage, smiling at an audience while knowing you just lost again.
• Resilience: After six years of almosts and not-quites, I learned how to show up, try again, and believe in myself when no one else seemed to.
• Discipline: Reading the newspaper every day, working out and eating healthy, and engaging in consistent community service was a choice. Some days I really just wanted to watch Friends & ER (it was the 1990s) or go to a bar with my friends (it was college!).

By the time I finally won Miss Texas six years later, the crown was secondary. The true victory came from the years in the middle - the growth, the grit, the decision to keep going even when it felt like no progress was happening.

The Tests

Here’s the truth about the middle: it tests your patience, humbles your pride, and (sometimes) makes you question your sanity. It would have been easier to hang up my rhinestone shoes after that first year. I could’ve walked away, dismissed pageants as silly or superficial, and saved myself from years of disappointment. But something inside me whispered, keep going. And I’m so glad I listened.

The middle stretches you like nothing else can. It doesn’t just test your physical endurance or talent - it tests your character. It forces you to confront your limits, push past them, and realize you’re capable of more than you ever imagined. The middle is where confidence is built, not because everything goes right, but because you learn how to keep showing up when everything doesn’t. (Read that sentence again!)

Now, in my middle age, I don’t have the physical strength I once did (thank you, perimenopause). But my perseverance muscle? It’s rock solid. Because all of my middle experiences have taught me: showing up consistently and working hard matters more than natural talent. Every. Single. Time. Talent might get you noticed, but discipline keeps you in the game.

The middle can be lonely and unremarkable. It’s a Wednesday, or leftovers for dinner, or working through your to-do list. But it’s also where quiet victories stack up until - almost without realizing it - you’re standing at the finish line. The mundane middle paves the way for the payoff: the vacation, the five-star meal, the big promotion.

What’s Your “Miss Texas” Moment?

Maybe you’re not trying to win a crown (if you are, I fully support you - and I recommend investing in double-sided tape). But I bet you’ve got your own version of a “Miss Texas” journey - something that started with excitement and promise but has now settled into the grind of the middle.

Are you tempted to quit? I get it. But here’s some encouragement: Don’t give up just because it feels hard. Growth doesn’t happen on the starting line or at the finish line. It happens in the messy middle.

So what’s your “Miss Texas” moment? What’s something you’ve stuck with (or considered quitting) when the middle got tough? I’d love to hear your stories. Share your thoughts in the comments, and let’s cheer each other on.

Because the middle might not come with prizes or applause. But trust me - it’s where the magic happens.