On Wednesday I’m going to California. I wish I could say that it is a vacation, a nice get-away from life and the everyday norm, but it’s not. It’s a business trip. And that, too, is just fine with me.

I’ve always wanted to do exactly that – go on a business trip. It just seems so professional, so up-and-coming, so smart. And, I feel honored that the company I work for is confident enough in me to send me cross-country to represent them.

They like me!

They really like me!

While I’m sure the sheer responsibility of that confidence is likely going to send me into a spiraling panic attack sooner or later, right now, I’m more or less hyperventilating about the airplane.

I’ve told this story before, but in case you don’t remember I had a rather traumatic experience the last time I took a trip via airplane.

While on my way to New Mexico to meet up with one of my girlfriends, I missed a few flights and a ride to my destination, had a nervous break down about taking a cab and possibly getting raped or murdered in the desert, and ended up sobbing in an airport terminal restroom with a random stranger’s affection being thrust upon me.

And yet, that stranger gave me just about the best momma hug I’ve ever received. All ended up well, but still, it was a traumatic trip and I don’t know if I can go through something like that again.

However, I won’t be traveling alone this time; I will be traveling with a colleague.

I will have a companion who, in the off chance that flights are missed or directions to a terminal or hotel are misunderstood, is with me and, hopefully, has a clear head to think things through and can get us safely to where we need to be.

This colleague has been on plenty of business trips so I am utterly confident that we will get from point A to point B without any hiccups or crying stints in restrooms. Or so I hope.

Now, if only I could also bring a skinnier version of myself, I would be all set.

I’m going to California, people, the land of the plastic and anorexic. How am I possibly going to fit in when I still have my original nose and a layer of cellulite that stretches across my tush and thighs?!

So, here lies my other cause of stress.

From what I’ve seen in pictures, watched on television, and heard of other people’s accounts, California is populated with the tanned, toned, and surgically perfect. I don’t know how excited I am to go only to come home feeling like a beached whale. It’s going to be cruel. It’s going to be harsh.

And it’s going to be effective. It’s going to be business as usual in the sunshine state.

I don’t consider myself fat, though I’m not totally satisfied with my body either.

But, overall, I’m pretty content and have just recently gotten around to accepting and embracing my Italian and utterly curvy body type. So of course my self-esteem needs a swift kick in the gut and a first class trip back to reality!

WHY WOULDN’T IT?!

There is no such thing as self-acceptance and a trip to Cali is sure going to prove that theory!

What better way is there to knock yourself down a few pegs than to see women walking around on perfectly shaped tooth picks with perky floatation devices in their shirts?

Or men who could use their rock hard six-pack abs to effectively wash a shirt? Or people wearing outfits that are worth more than my yearly salary?

There just is none, my friends.

Someone at work told me that I should bring my bathing suit “just in case you are able to get to the beach during some of the off hours.”

Off hours? Bathing suit? PLEASE!

There will be no such thing as off hours for me – I’m bringing my A-game and am going to constantly be ON.

I’ve got an impression to make and a job to do while out there so there will be no fooling around.

And, even if there were such a thing as off hours, someone like me who can eat an entire loaf of bread in one sitting has no business wearing a bathing suit in California.

Baby has a booty, and I barely let my mirror get a glimpse of that let alone beach-body-perfect gym-dwellers from the west coast.

Then again, maybe I’ll be a total rebel and attempt to impress said Californians by eating my body weight in pasta and dessert.

Or, maybe I’ll just try to blend in by taking a shot of wheat grass at a vegan restaurant and lose 15 pounds in two days.

But, I digress. Perhaps these stereotypes that I’ve seen and heard may end up being false. Perhaps there will be no missed flights or self-esteem abuse. Perhaps I’ll get to soak up some of the sights and end up feeling compelled to go back for a vacation. Perhaps.

Here’s to hoping.

Either way though, it will be an interesting, productive, and lucrative trip that I can benefit from.

I really am excited to go and am looking forward to doing a job well done and representing my company to the best of my ability.

I’m sure I’ll come home with some stories, sunburn, and a few extra pounds caused by a fun little activity I like to call stress-eating.

Just keep your fingers crossed for me that I don’t miss any more flights or drop-kick a would-be model/actress for gawking at me, the healthy-sized girl… that would be totally unprofessional.

About the Author

Haley Taffera covers for the Times Leader. Reach her at or .

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