I am getting a slew of messages asking if I am going to “Hoopla”–Keep’s national convention. Short answer is NO.

Long answer is this…I have been to 14 national conventions for direct sales companies. I think in all but two of them, I have been recognized for being one of the top in the company (so I felt like I had an obligation to attend). In fact, TWICE (at two different companies) when I finished #1 in certain categories–I wasn’t planning on going. One required a call from the president of the company, explaining to me why I “had” to go, and the other was when I was asked to be a trainer too, and felt an obligation to go.

The truth is, these conventions cause me a lot of stress, and I do not enjoy them. Simply put, to me, it’s like prom for middle-aged women, with everyone posting their trial manicures a month ahead of time (I kid you not–makes my head explode), their dress options, what stiletto shoes they are thinking of wearing, etc. Well, when you don’t do your nails (because you do art that trashes them), you are lucky if you can find ONE dress that you don’t look like a blimp in, and shoes with heels higher than an inch makes your bunions throb…well, you feel like the toothless hillbilly at the Miss America pageant.

When I was with a previous company (NOT THE ONE I AM WITH NOW)…thousands of women would be in attendance, and during the awards portion, when women would be on the jumbotron in the arena, women in the audience would be making snotty, catty comments about their weight, clothing choices, etc. That made an impression on me, and instead of thinking about how cool it is to have worked my ass off and be on stage being rewarded for it, I was fixating on what would everyone be saying about me…if I didn’t have the perfect outfit, if I gained a lot of weight since they last saw me, etc.

In fact, in 2011, I had gained considerable weight since the previous convention, so two weeks before, I got my hair cut into what ended up being the haircut from hell. I thought if I hacked all my hair off, the catty women would gossip about that, and not how fat I got in the past year. In 2012, I knew I was going to be featured a LOT at the national convention, and I lost 65 pounds before so I wouldn’t be so self-conscious. It wasn’t healthy, and I didn’t keep it off, but it was one less thing to worry about being gossipped about.

I was talking to my sister this morning about the fact that I was actually HAPPY and proud of myself for sticking to my guns, and not being pressured into attending Hoopla. I said, “Remember all the times shopping for those damned dresses, and what an ordeal it was?” And she replied, “YES!!! We’d have to be looking for dresses with sleeves in the middle of summer, because you would never show your arms!” I laughed–I had forgotten that.

Another thing that always gave me panic attacks is feeling responsible for everyone on my team enjoying themselves and getting something out of the convention. On the average, I would say I spent at least $1500 to attend each year–I am assuming it costs everyone else that too (the attendance charge, airfare, hotel, outfits, etc.). When you are a leader, it costs even more with team gifts, team dinners, etc. I would feel like I had to make sure everyone was fired up, everyone was excited, and everyone was enjoying it. And frankly, I suck at being a cheerleader and a mom to dozens of women over the course of three to four days. I am too transparent to be able to be all cheery to the team back-stabber and the team drama queen and the team moper for several days. I take everything personally, and it’s just not a good mix when you have all that going on.

I realize that national conventions are GREAT for most attendees. I understand that it boosts business, after thousands are fired up. I think if you are in direct sales, you really DO need to attend them at some point.

All I am saying is *THIS* 50-year-old didn’t want to have to feel pressured to buy a bunch of outfits that I will never wear again, get a manicure on my stubby, broken nails, and put a perma-smile on my face for four days. I am wired a certain way that I always do my best, so attending a conference isn’t going to fire me up. I had no desire to squeeze into Spanx two sizes too small in the hopes that I didn’t look like an Oompah-Loompah, hobble around on stylish, uncomfortable heels, and pretend to enjoy doing a “conference dance.” I will miss seeing the new jewelry, learning some new things, and seeing friends from around the country who I only see at the incentive trips and convention. Frankly, I won’t miss the panic attacks I have every year over it.

I have to say, I debated putting this out there–and instead answer my messages with some phoney-baloney reason why I wasn’t going, but that’s not me. And honestly, I know there are other women who feel stressed about it, feel inadequate and upset that they aren’t part of the cliques, and feel like a beluga whale among flashy, colorful fish. I just want them all to know they are not alone. I finished #1 in FOUR different companies…and I felt that way every damned national convention. You are not alone. Next year, if I go, all the “beluga whales” are welcome to hang with me. In the meantime, this beluga whale will be hanging out in my pottery studio in my sweats, with a messy bun, surrounded by cats who don’t care how fat I am or what I am wearing, or asking for any words of wisdom. They don’t care…and this year, neither do I.