Preparing for RT - Hussy style!

As most everyone in the world of romance novels knows, the RT Convention is an annual event. I've discovered that there are three phases involved in preparation for this glamorous and exciting time.

Phase I: Eleven months and two weeks.
Plan, book travel, design promo stuff, order promo stuff, organize schedule. Shop. Shop, shop, shop. Find costumes if necessary and order those. Start a diet. Several times. Give up on diet around Christmas, start again in New Year. Pick a diet involving chocolate.

Phase II: Thirteen days.
Sort out the four wardrobes full of clothing you bought and discard eighty percent of them. Mix and match the rest, finding out which top goes with which bottom (and NOT asking hubby if the result makes YOUR bottom look fat. There is no correct answer to this question. Not asking it in the first place is the only way to go.) Buy various garments to suck in the chocolate squidge which has appeared around your middle. (Hint: if you can't breathe in them they are probably a size too small). Make endless lists. Pack clothing carefully in the largest suitcase you own, stuffing the leftovers into your carryon bags. Panic when you can't find half the lists you made.

Phase III: Twenty-four hours.
This is the time we set aside for personal preparation. The case is packed (but not zipped shut yet, just in case) so it's time to put the final polish on the most important commodity - ourselves.

1. Paint toenails. Why? Not a clue. This is Pittsburgh, not Florida, and the likelihood of anyone seeing my toes is remote, since I'll be wearing hosiery. However, being from New England, my winter white skin benefits from a touch of color on the toes, since otherwise - in the event of my feet sticking out uncovered from my black pants - someone might well put a toe tag on me because I strongly resemble a CSI corpse! Urgh.

2. De Fuzz. Well, yeah. The legs get attention of course. Plus those bits that I might usually miss and involve me contorting myself into a position where I can kiss my ass goodbye. Why hair grows on the backs of female thighs, I don't know - but it's gone even though not a soul will see those places. And no blood shed, either. Always a good thing. The pits - goes without saying. Hairy armpits looked okay on King Kong, but in the event I should high five a reader, I'd prefer not to look like the mighty ape. Anyway, look where HE ended up.

3. Prune the face. Yep...those eyebrows need some serious weed whacking. Here, I truly believe it's a game to those hairs. They lurk beneath the surface, hiding from my tweezers, only to jump out above skin level as soon as I'm done. Dunno why - but they seem to enjoy it. I'm wise to them now, though. I do it twice - an hour apart. That takes care of the little buggers. I make sure to get that ONE hair that has appeared on my eyebrow by mistake - you know the one - it's as thick as HDTV cables, and if left alone would happily descend to my nostril and grow up through my sinuses and out my ear. Nope - not gonna happen. Gone gone gone.

4. Check that top lip. Even if I'm dressing like Johnny Depp for a costume ball, I'd rather not have his moustache, thanks. Again, my white skin isn't a help here, since every little feathery frond shows up. Science offers us girls several ways to deal with this, so pick your weapon here...smelly, painful or... really painful. (Laser hair removal is permanent. Under your nose? It is a distant relative of various tortures designed by the Inquisition in Medieval Spain. Plus some of the little buggers WILL grow back.)

5. Other hair? That's your business. I do NOT want to know. If you're wearing a very skimpy, high cut costume, I'd simply remind you that photos will be taken. A lot of photos. And they may well appear on MySpace the next day. You might want to make sure yours doesn't appear in the National Geographic section under the heading of "great hairy pussy sighted in Pennsylvania".

6. Paint fingernails. Color is the major decision here - I usually go for natural shades if the nails are shorter. I leave the blood-red to the clawed amongst us. Of course it's a given that immediately you've painted one hand, the doorbell/phone/cellphone will ring, requiring you to fudge up that perfect coat and have to start over again.


While this is only a guide, it does sort of cover a lot of things we Hussies do to get ready for RT. And all of it is interspersed with whimperingly spazzing emails, nervous phone calls, dashes to the bathroom and serious ingestion of stomach settling medications. (I keep reminding myself to take out stock in Pepto Bismol!)

Of course, as soon as we get there - the entire year of preparation is forgotten in the joy of seeing friendly faces once again and meeting new folks we've spoken to online over the months beforehand. The body is perfectly groomed, the clothes all match and the nails are a work of art. Or not. We realize it doesn't really matter - what's important is that smile, that hug and those laughs.

And as we unpack the crumpled mess in our cases when it's all over - yep, we go back to Phase I, because sure as hell we're gonna do it all over again NEXT year!!!!

Looking forward to BEING there (the getting there isn't so much fun since all airports suck) -

Sahara