The Lie. (or what do I have to do to be famous around here?)

I’ve been lied to. I fucking hate being lied to. I believed the lie plastered on posters in kindergarten classrooms and spoke to thousands of middle school students during gymnasium assemblies.

“You can do anything! Don’t settle for less than your dreams! You CAN achieve your goals!”

It’s all bullshit.

I use to judge the poor bastards who gave up on their dreams. I really did. I thought the Olympic athlete who never won a gold medal just wasn’t trying hard enough. Or the actress waiting tables in LA after 20 years just wasn’t taking enough chances.

My life was going to be different. It was 2004; I was 23, and ready to start my career as a singer-songwriter. I was going to make sacrifices and take chances. I wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop me. I was going to fucking make it.

Plus, I want to be famous. I would never admit that to anyone but it’s true. I want attention. I want recognition and “Oh, Bethanny, you’re so talented! God, is there anything you can’t do?” I want to yell at the paparazzi to “GET OFF MY LAWN!” I want to have to wear sunglasses and a big hat so no one recognizes me, when all I want is a simple cup of coffee. I want a million followers on Instagram and a house next to Kim Kardashian.

But that’s not why I became a musician, of course. I had written songs with lyrics that came from my heart. I’m talking real transparency and relateability. These songs meant something to me and I knew the rest of the world would love my music if they just got a chance to hear it! I wanted to be like Taylor Swift, except I don’t actually listen to Taylor Swift.

Trying out for American Idol was the perfect opportunity for a small town Oklahoma girl like me to get the exposure needed to make it in the music industry.

I remember the thousands of suckers waiting in line to audition. I was better than everyone there. (Better looking, at the very least.) I surveyed the crowd and said to myself, “Loser, loser, loser, too fat, too ugly, too old. Please, you’ll never get anywhere with that nose.” I felt bad for them, really but I knew that one day they would be able to say they were at the exact same audition the year I, Bethanny, won American Idol.

I knew that once Simon heard my music and saw my face, he would know I was exactly what American Idol and the rest of the country was looking for.

But Simon Cowell is an asshole. (They should change those posters to say, “You can be anything you want to be! Just watch out for assholes like Simon Cowell.”)

20 seconds into my audition, he stopped me and asked how long I had been playing the guitar and how in all those years no one told me I sucked and blah, blah blah.

I told Simon he was wrong; I would become famous! (A famous musician, I mean.)

“I want this more and will work harder than anyone here. I really want this and I will do whatever it takes, Simon, please! PLEASE JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE!”

“You know what it would take, darling?” Simon said simply, eyebrows raised, gaze focused directly, intently on me.

“What Simon, anything…” I was begging, you guys. This was it. He was going to tell me the secret to fame and fortune.

 “It takes talent.”

Fuck you, Simon. I felt my throat close in on itself and could feel the hot tears forming behind my eyes. I wasn’t terrible…was I? I wasn’t talentless…right? My parents loved to hear me play and I’ve sang at church since I was a little girl! Plus, this is my dream! My passion! I want to be famous more than anything!

In that moment, I saw my career as a singer-songwriter crumble like a cookie in a fat kids sweaty hand. This was not what was supposed to happen. I saw my huge house in the Hollywood Hills fade into the background as if covered by a fog of failure. Maybe this wasn’t for me and it took a total stranger who could give two shits about me to finally tell me the truth.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. I learned that sometimes hard work, passion and sheer desire isn’t enough. Sometimes it takes fate. Or the Universe. Or God. Or whatever force it was that allowed Brad Pitt to be casted in Thelma and Louise instead of the other handsome man from small-town Iowa who now works in real estate.

But more importantly I learned that I failed in the music industry not because I wasn’t talented (please) but because I was following the wrong dream. I’ve learned that my true passion in life is being a fashion designer and I will not stop until I succeed. I want this more than anything-it’s my passion! Anyway, I’m trying out for project runway next fall. (I have no formal seamstress training but I once made a purse for my mom and she loved it.) Wish me luck!