Not Afraid of Life (24 page)

It’s funny how nothing my mom does can escape criticism!

We were the last to perform, topping off a night that contained the infamous Michael-Bolton-in-a-dog-collar performance. I was nervous as we waited our turn; I just never could get part of the steps down. My nerves were calmed just knowing that Mom, Willow, and Piper were out in the audience grinning from ear to ear! When I went out there, I had no fear. And guess what? I nailed it!

Though I still didn’t love dancing, I felt like I was getting the hang of it. The next week, Mark said that I was starting to think like a dancer, instead of like someone learning dance moves. I thought that was a nice compliment . . . which I needed to hear to get me through all of the work!

Every Friday through Monday, we worked at least fourteen-hour days. There was always something else we needed to practice, a costume that needed hemming, a step that needed to be mastered, a photo that needed to be shot. We even filmed our dances so I could watch the moves on my iPhone when I wasn’t in the studio! It was almost as hard as being out there fishing with Dad in Dillingham. (No, actually, it wasn’t even close!) Mark and I began working on my facial expressions because judge Bruno had said I wasn’t dancing with my whole body. So I practiced smiling and “emoting” along with my dance that week.

Talk about getting in character! Mark and I decided to wear gorilla suits for our performance! Everyone was laughing at us, because we were having a great time when they did our “backstage shots”—jumping on couches, beating our chests, and generally “monkeying around.” I think the other dancers thought we were ridiculous, but at least we wouldn’t be forgotten.

Lauden, Willow, Heather, and Juanita’s daughter Jenna all came down for this performance because it was my twentieth birthday. When we did get the lowest scores of the night—just 18 points!—I didn’t care at all. I’d butchered the steps, but so what? I was surrounded by so many good people that the competition didn’t matter. (It was similar to the warmth I felt at the GOP convention, when I was able to withstand the chaos because of my family’s presence.)

A few days prior to that night, Mark had surprised me for a little pre-birthday fun. He knew my family loved hockey, so he secretly decided to try to get me tickets to an L.A. Kings hockey game. After calling around, he scored front-row tickets! I was so surprised. He didn’t tell me where we were going, but we drove into the parking lot of the Staples Center. I couldn’t stop smiling! Both Mark and I were given custom jerseys, with our last names on the back, and they put a birthday greeting on the big screen for me! The enormous players skated so well on the ice. Since we don’t have a professional hockey team in Alaska, it was a treat for me to go to an NHL game. Plus, we met Vince Vaughn, who sat near us, and a couple of the players after the game. It was so cool to meet him!

Also, someone else gave me tickets to an awesome Blake Shelton concert at Club Nokia that was part of his All About Tonight Tour. The crowd sang along to his songs and cheered when he said, “You don’t know how nervous I’ve been about performing here in L.A. I’m just glad that there’s some hillbillies like me out here!”

I loved it! I’d been in Los Angeles for so long that Blake Shelton was a breath of fresh air. I always listen to country music, and I felt that he was totally normal in a city of people made of plastic. The people I met in California were so obsessed with their bodies, their clothes, and their cars. They’d talk about getting silicone injections to make their butts look bigger or liposuction to make them smaller. They had philosophies about how to have the best nails or the poutiest lips. They’d talk about the latest fashions and compare the newest Mercedes and BMW styles with much fervor and disagreement. I could never really weigh in on the controversy, though. I kept my opinions on the Dodge versus Chevy truck debate to myself. There’s nothing necessarily wrong about the way they lived, but being consumed with image is just not something I’m used to. I always related more easily to the receptionists than to the pro athletes and Hollywood starlets.

So the country music concert was so much fun for me. I was in the front row, and Blake Shelton winked at me when he sang. (I laughed when the two guys beside me were thrilled because they thought he’d winked at them!) I also got to go backstage and meet him and was so touched when he called me “America’s sweetheart.”

“Well, your album was the first one I bought on iTunes,” I told him.

Mark had been so nice to me that I didn’t expect even more on my actual birthday! However, after our low-scored performance, Mark, some friends, and I went to a cool place called the Mint. Mark had a cupcake delivered to me, with a candle and flowers, and he sang “Happy Birthday” to me from the stage. It was a sweet moment, a nice ending to a difficult week performance-wise. Plus, it felt kind of good to say good-bye to my teen years! (I was officially no longer a “teen mom”—something to celebrate.) Erika from Juneau came to that show and it was so nice to see her. In fact, the whole experience was a wonderful reunion, something my friends and family were able to gather around, which was pure fun!

Sadly, that week Florence Henderson and Mark’s dad got sent home. Florence was such a wonderful “mom” figure for everyone. She remembered everyone’s name, including production assistants, producers, and cameramen. She was so kind with everyone, and it was no surprise that she delivered a very gracious send-off speech when she was voted off. Mark was disappointed to see his dad go, because they so enjoyed hanging out backstage and going through rehearsals together. However, her departure was less terrible because she was always in the audience afterward, cheering us on.

Week after week, Mark and I made it through, and we lost friends who’d been voted off. Plus, the schedule got even more intense. The longer you last in the competition, the harder you have to work because you have to learn more dances. Since there are fewer dance teams left, we had to start doing even more media interviews. One particular day, I had rehearsal from nine in the morning until five in the evening. Then I shot a public service announcement from six until ten at night. From ten until midnight I did a photo shoot with
In Touch
.

Oh, and speaking of the public service announcement, I filmed that with Michael Sorrentino, publicly known as “The Situation,” from his hit MTV show
Jersey Shore.

Because of his filming schedule, he arrived a couple of weeks later than everyone else. Honestly, I was worried. Would his personality throw everyone’s balance off? Would he be abrasive and rude? Would he constantly be referring to himself in the third person?

However, nothing could’ve been further from the truth. We got along so well, in spite of our different backgrounds. I also found it interesting that he was so business-minded. While it might not shine through on
Jersey Shore,
he is always thinking about and strategizing about business ideas.

When the Candie’s Foundation called and suggested Mike and I do a commercial together, everyone thought it was an odd pairing. I told my mom I was going to do it, and she thought it was hilarious. (I thought it was hilarious that Mom knew who Sitch was!)

You may have seen it on television or online. But it starts with him checking me out before he realizes it’s me.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says. “Have you ever had a situation with the official situation?”

I think the word
situation
got used so much in this thirty-second PSA that it should’ve probably been retired afterward.

“I hope you’re as committed to safe sex as you are to those abs,” I said to him.

“Just in case you do get into a situation, I want to make sure you are situated. Because if you do get into a situation, with your situation, you may end up with a situation.”

“Trust me, I’m not getting myself into another situation,” I said. This commercial had only a skeleton of a script. The rest we ad-libbed, which is why at one point, we exchanged a few too many “for reals.”

For real?

For real, for real.

Anyway, Sitch got some silly lines in. For example, he said, “I totally respect abstinence. I mean, it actually has the word
abs
in it!” When I asked if he practices safe sex, he said, “I practice all the time!”

Many people criticized me for being in a commercial with this guy, but I thought it was exactly the right way to reach an audience not used to hearing about the option of waiting until marriage for sexual activity, and how difficult it is to be a teen mom. After all, you don’t want all of this conversation to be aimed at church youth groups!

It was actually one of the most fun times I had while being a Candie’s Foundation spokesperson.

So, on top of all the other
DWTS
work, this PSA was actually shot during our season. Again, there were lots of publicity shots, camera blocking, and wardrobe fittings, but not too many really intense workout rehearsals. Oh, and we had lots and lots of hair, makeup, and spray tanning—we even had “body makeup”! I’d have to sit in that chair for hours upon hours, which gave me a lot of time to satisfy my Craigslist addiction for real estate deals and trucks. If you are one of the few people who haven’t discovered its joys, it’s an online network of free ads. If you need a job, a car, or someone to teach you Spanish, it’s a good place to start. Since the hair and makeup sessions were so frequent—and long—I’d frequently pull up Craigslist on my iPhone and shop around. I could tell you the price of any used vehicle in Alaska by the time
Dancing with the Stars
had finished wrapping. It was then that I saw a nice house for sale in Maricopa, Arizona. I didn’t have any real connection to that state; I just knew its housing market had tanked, and my desire to find a good deal kept me prowling around the real estate ads. I bookmarked the house and hoped I’d be able to stay on the show long enough to afford it. Surfing Craigslist—though potentially expensive for someone like me—allowed me to escape from watching negative coverage of me on the show. Because I didn’t read what people were saying about me, I was surprised to find out that my continued success in the show was causing a bit of a stir.

First of all, people complained that my mother’s “Tea Party supporters” had organized some sort of conspiracy to help keep me in the competition. The speculation had gotten so out of hand that legitimate news organizations (and I use the word
legitimate
loosely) began doing reports about the mysterious phenomenon that was keeping me on the show week after week, in spite of (ahem!) comparatively low ratings from the judges.

In fact, executive producer Conrad Green had to go on record defending the show’s voting process and said he was mystified that people were complaining so loudly about my continued participation. I tried not to take it personally. I’d really improved over the course of the show, and no one was giving me credit for it! Well, no one except the people who counted . . . voters who kept calling in their support. (Thanks, by the way, to all who called!)

But the controversy didn’t die down. One man in Wisconsin was so angry I’d advanced to the next level that he actually screamed “that’s f—king politics!” before shooting his television with his shotgun. Then, he turned the gun on his wife, sparking a fifteen-hour standoff with police. I read about that and told my mom I’d buy his wife a new television set.

Then I heard from other “fans.” A letter was sent to the production offices addressed to me, but instead of a note of adoration, inside there was white powder. Police, firefighters, and the FBI showed up at the studios to investigate the “death threat” against me, but determined the substance was merely talcum powder.

Even though I never was rated too highly, I didn’t take the criticism from the judges personally. I figured there was so much bad stuff on the Internet about me, what could they say that was worse? While some contestants talked back to the judges and were devastated at the slightest critiques, I just took it with a grain of salt. Anyone who’s rocked a cranky toddler to bed at three o’clock in the morning or wondered how they’d pay a bill knew this competition wasn’t real life.

However, it was hard not to take the tension among the contestants personally. At first, no one looked at me as a threat, and everyone was really kind. However, as each week passed, people got a little colder. I noticed some of the contestants rolled their eyes when they realized we’d survived to dance another day. A lady in wardrobe got me the wrong size Spanx (an undergarment that helps you look your best under costumes that leave little to the imagination) and went to get the right size. While I stood in the makeshift “changing room,” a temporary structure that allowed us to change behind paper-thin walls, I heard her say, “Bristol’s such a b—ch.”

As luck would have it, Mark came in at the exact time and heard her comment. The ever-protective older brother, he confronted her. “What did you just say about my partner?”

Even though Mark was friends with everybody on the competition, relationships began to strain when they were voted off before we were. They literally would not speak to us—or even acknowledge our presence!

All of this over a dance competition and a pretend disco ball trophy?

At the same time that a poor television in Wisconsin met its demise and the white powder insinuated mine, there was even more controversy.

Apparently, a comedian with very little material decided to get media attention by using me as a punch line in her stand-up routine. She said that I was the only person in the show’s history who actually gained weight over its course. She even called me the “white Precious,” a reference to a movie about an obese African American girl impregnated by her father.

The ironic thing about this whole thing is that my critic was a self-described public activist against bullying . . . as long as she agrees with the victims’ politics, I guess. After a prominent gay suicide, she went to the airwaves and criticized bullies . . . while at the same time publicly stating that a 135-pound young girl like me was obese. But because I was already active and fit, the show’s schedule wasn’t new to me. I did gain five pounds over the course of the show, but I was still thinner than a lot of girls my age. I’m not saying this because I’m somehow proud of how I look. Rather, I’m trying to give perspective on this fifty-year-old woman’s criticism of me. When the public didn’t think her gibes were funny, she defended herself by pointing out that there was a big difference between being a bully and a comedienne. Apparently, it’s okay to make fun of impressionable teenagers—and to spread the lie that a healthy weight should be mocked—as long as it’s profitable. (I was in good company, however. She also called another prominent Republican’s daughters “prostitutes.” Why aren’t you laughing? Don’t you get the joke? They’re
Republicans
and they’re
young girls
. Isn’t that funny? Apparently, you don’t have a good sense of humor.)