"Pracetice Makes Perfect" The "Is It True?" Series Epsiode Th...

Welcome to Honor Your Truth

The ‘Is It True?” Series Episode Thirty-Six

“Practice makes Perfect”

I was a cheerleader at St. Michael’s grade school. I loved the bubbling excitement and the sheer theatrics of it. On game days, we were allowed to wear our cheerleading uniforms instead of the required navy blue plaid thing. The night before we would pull out our K-Mart “white pointies”, a kind of tennis shoe well known to squads across the country. We would coat them with this runny white shoe polish, covering all the smudges and grass stains from the week before. They were supposed to be super duper perfect white. We also had to wear the one of the strangest articles of clothing ever designed, the “dicky”. For those who are unfamiliar with this thing, it is a white turtleneck without the turtle. It is just the neck, no body or arms. It goes over your head and then you stuff it into your sweater. You also wore these black stretchy danskins in case your skirt flew up. These and more were the pieces of a costume called the “cheerleading uniform”.

Running onto the field was the closest thing to being on a stage. It was like performing plays in the basement for mom and dad, only it was pom-poms and robotty dance moves, rather than the “Butt Sisters”. The “Butt Sisters” was a weird kind of dance done with pillows in the seat of your pajamas. You’d pack it in and waddle in from stage left (the laundry room side). If you made it through the whole song without the pillows coming out, it was a good performance. I and my sisters would orchestrate these elaborate shows that lasted hours. We’d pack the house, all three seats, usually filled by my parents and Mrs. Mulholland from next door. Mr. Mulholland would never attend. He was, as my mom always said, an “odd duck”. I was a natural at this kind of stuff, a ham so to speak. Cheerleading fell into that category.

I went on to be a cheerleader in high school. Freshman were not allowed to try-out. I was afraid that I wouldn’t make the squad. I wasn’t popular at all. I had transferred from the catholic school. There were a lot of cliques and I didn’t have one, preferably you should have one of those. Also, I had made a complete fool of myself on several occasions in front of the senior cheerleaders. I threw up over someone’s white picket fence, no lie, at a party. I drank too much strawberry hill. White picket fence, strawberry hill, and me. It’s all true. What I lacked in skill, I made up for in creativity. One of the requirements was to perform a cheer that we made up. I couldn’t do the splits, I could barely do a cartwheel and the only jump I could do was the “X” jump. If you can clap your hands and jump at the same time, you can do the “X” jump. However, I could make up a cheer. I became the main cheer maker upper throughout my cheerleading career.

Cheerleading competitions were a big thing and I believe they still are today. We went to camp for a week and then there was a competition at the end. They judged the squads and the individuals. You didn’t cheer by yourself but they picked you out of the group. I got second place which meant I would go on to the regionals. I was shocked, shocked. I had no intention on placing, nor did I even try. I felt much the same about the regionals and I went on to the state competition. We practiced as a squad, but I never practiced by myself much. I’d write the cheers, go over them a few times, but practicing wasn’t something that I did on a daily basis AT ALL. I believe I was just in the moment, having fun….letting go. The heart shines through when we do this and it's always better. I wasn’t “trying”. I wasn’t in my head.

When I got to that level, I started practicing. I practiced in the yard during the day and in the living room in the night. I was extremely concerned about my lack of tricks. I couldn’t do any tricks, no bells and whistles. I made lame attempts at adding them, when clearly, it was not my forte. I added them because I thought I “should”. It was ...