False eyelashes from Nordstrom Mac counter ... $8. Stila Lip Glaze in Brown Sugar ... $12. Spray-on Tan from The Bronze Bar ... $35.

Hearing my friends and family scream like little girls when I walked on stage ... Priceless!

So many experiences that I have encountered in my life have been priceless, but the last two months have been a conglomeration of moments both good and bad that were nothing short of amazing.

I’d like to tell you it’s not a beauty pageant, or that it didn’t matter if my shoes matched my suit, and in the end that none of us really cared if we didn't win.

While it's true, that isn't what you want to hear, is it?

You want to hear that at 7:15 p.m. on Nov. 5, I stood in a chaotic swirl of sequins, rhinestones and spandex. A thick fog of hair spray, and the somewhat pungent odor of self-tanner, permeated the air.

With my swimsuit hiked up high on to my cheeks my mind slowed for just a moment. Why on earth was I waiting for a woman I had known all of 10 weeks to roll glue down my butt and tuck me into my swimsuit?

Ten weeks ago, I wouldn't have had the answer, but as my posterior fared a fate far worse than I could wish on my enemy, I knew the answer -- burnt brownie.

Growing up in Burien, I was a Girl Scout, a Brownie to be exact. Antagonized by two troop mates for my skin being slightly darker than my uniform, I was teased and called a “burnt brownie.”

Kids can be cruel, and I am sure that all of us growing up in small town Burien endured some form of childhood torture, but for some of us, that torture shaped who we became.

As I stood on stage in front of my friends, family, coworkers, and the community that had raised me, I knew that I had long conquered my childhood insecurities. I had a lot to be proud of; this wasn't some Jenny Jones makeover show.

For 10 weeks, I had an opportunity to show the Miss Burien Program what I was all about.

Through interviews, current affairs debates/discussions, public appearances, I proved I was a globally conscious, talented and caring individual -- all things I knew about myself going in to this.

But at the grand finale, as I paraded my pageant-worthy butt in my swimsuit across the stage in front of just about everyone I know, I was liberated.

There will still be those of you reading who won't get the messages, who will think I gained confidence from dressing up and wearing make-up. You are the same people who think pageants are sexist.

I used to be one of those people. I knew I was intelligent, strong willed and destined to do great things. I just never knew I could do it in sequins!

Women who are aggressive and make a difference in our society often have to forfeit their female sexuality. Conversely, women who don't surrender have a far harder time getting their message across.

You could not pay me enough to roll glue down my butt again; it was sort of a one-time good deal for me. But I will tell you this: I always knew I was going to change the world. Now I feel I have the option to do it in an evening gown if I like!

There is no way I could possibly thank everyone who supported me and my editor really wanted to cut the next few lines but his heart wouldn't let him:

To my father for all his love and support (that's him posing with me on the front page of the print edition), my sister for dealing with me, my mother who was there in heart, my other mothers Debra and Sally who kept me well dressed and spent many late nights with me, to T.M. Sell for convincing me that I can do anything I put my mind to, J.C. at the PAC, Jackie Graybill for keeping me going, Pregnancy Aid, The Southwest Seattle Business and Professional Women, Melissa Goheen (The Blake for getting us there), the Robinson Newspapers staff with a special thanks to Loken, of course to everyone at the Miss Burien Program, and my greatest thanks to my Robert for working a 13-hour shift and flying home from New York to NOT ruin my PowerPoint!