Winning Balance

by Nancy French

  Of course, as adolescent girls develop, they look less like bullets and more like hourglasses. Hourglasses aren’t known for their aerodynamic properties. They sit on a shelf, are admired, and count down the seconds until time runs out. In fact, when puberty hits, time sometimes has “run out” for gymnasts whose bodies are simply no longer built for the sport.

  I’d been in Olympic training and then went right into the rigors of the post-Olympic tour. Only afterward, when I was out of the intensive training, did my body begin to change. One week before I went on DWTS, I finally began to turn into a normal girl. Suffice it to say, if I had to choose the most ideal moment to compete in a dance competition, it wouldn’t have been right when my body was undergoing so many changes.

  Blogs, newspapers, and even magazines talked about my new physique, writing things like, “Shawn Johnson, Olympic athlete, is now 20 pounds overweight.”

  I read that headline on my computer screen one night and thought, No! I’m just finally a normal girl!

  I’ve always somehow managed to have a pretty thick skin when it comes to weight criticism. I don’t know exactly how I’ve been able to keep my head about it, though I know my parents had a lot to do with it. They always encouraged me to eat, and my eagle-eyed mom would notice if I pushed my plate away without having eaten very much. Both my mom and my dad constantly told me I was beautiful, too. With their support, I was able to shake off any criticism I received about my weight, and I avoided developing an eating disorder.

  Success, of course, helped my confidence as well. People could criticize my weight all day long, but when I was the number one gymnast in the world, it was easy to shrug it off. I’d simply smile and think to myself, I don’t need to lose weight. I was just in the Olympics!

  However, when I was on DWTS, I was well out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t doing very well—at least I didn’t think I was—and was already incredibly insecure about dancing in front of people. The immense pressure of the show was multiplied by the fact that everyone seemed to have an opinion about my weight.

  I wish I could say that, once again, I didn’t let the critics get to me. I wish I could explain that I was so comfortable in my own skin that I ignored their barbs. But to be completely honest, it got to me. It still gets to me. I will forever have a complex about my size. Being told you need to lose weight when you are only ten years old sticks with you. It just does.

  The coaches didn’t harp on our diets because they were mean; they were intent on helping us reach our goals. They kept us working and readjusting our goals, just as drill sergeants push soldiers to their limits. Of course, we weren’t soldiers. We were little girls. Just a year or two before my appearance on DWTS, I sometimes longed for the day when I would be free from the sport, when I could do whatever I wanted.

  But now that I was out of the gym and in Hollywood, I still faced the same old challenges . . . plus some new ones.

  Lesson I’ve Learned

  Seek to become comfortable and confident in your own skin. You’ll always be judged by somebody, but remember that God created each of us differently. So don’t be afraid to be your own person.

  Chapter 25

  The Mirror Ball of Glory

  I’m not in competition with anybody but myself. My goal is to beat my last performance.

  —Celine Dion

  I LOOK RIDICULOUS, I thought as I pulled my suitcase behind me through the doors to LAX. We’d just wrapped up the live taping for week six of DWTS, and I still had thick makeup caked on my face. I was also wearing fake eyelashes and long hair extensions. What looks good on TV looks terrible in real life, and I felt a little silly rushing to catch my flight. Then again, I doubted this was the first time someone had raced through the Los Angeles airport looking overdone.

  After the taping ended around 8 p.m. that Tuesday, I went to see Mark play with his band at The Grove for about twenty minutes. Then I got a car to the airport so I could catch the red-eye flight to New York, which took off at 11.

  This is how I began one of the craziest weeks of my life.

  I was headed to Manhattan to attend a prestigious awards ceremony for amateur athletes. The James E. Sullivan Award is known as the “Oscar” of sports awards and is older than the Heisman. Since 1930, it’s been given to amateur athletes based on the qualities of leadership, character, and sportsmanship in all areas of life. The Sullivan Award isn’t simply given to the person with the most accomplishments, but instead, it honors an athlete who has also shown strong moral character.

  I was thrilled to have been nominated, but traveling to New York meant taking a break in my increasingly intense training with Mark. We were one of only seven couples remaining in the competition. As we progressed, my desire to win that mirror ball trophy grew exponentially. By this time, we were practicing five or more hours a day, six days a week, and learning a new dance every week.

  Mark stayed in Los Angeles for a group dance rehearsal that we would have to perform the following week, and he texted me updates on what I was missing.

  “You are so glad you are missing this,” he texted in a fit of boredom.

  I’d been nominated for the Sullivan Award the previous year and didn’t even make the top one hundred. This year, I was going to the ceremony as a finalist, which was exciting.

  When my mom and I arrived in New York around 7 a.m., I was already feeling nervous about the day ahead. Once I got to my hotel room, it took me a while to remove all the makeup and hair extensions from the previous night. When Entertainment Tonight came a few hours later to film a brief segment on me, I was supposedly “getting ready” for the event. Of course, I was already dressed and made up for the night by the time they arrived. I didn’t want to be applying mascara for the cameras, only to clump some on my eyelids!

  I was up against some amazing athletes that night. The finalists included the US Olympic men’s 400-meter freestyle relay swim team, volleyball player Cynthia Barboza, North Carolina basketball player Tyler Hansbrough, and my fellow gymnast Nastia Liukin. The ceremony was held at the New York Athletic Club, and I found myself happy to be back in the realm of athletics instead of Hollywood. The difference was noticeable.

  When my name was announced, I was shocked. There’s no way, I thought. The Sullivan is the biggest honor there is for amateur athletes. Plus, I was the first female gymnast to ever win. It was an amazing honor.

  And my week wasn’t over.

  After the ceremony, we flew back to West Des Moines, where I would accept another award later in the week. Mark met me in my hometown so we could rehearse. While it was wonderful to reconnect with him, I was even happier to see my golden retriever, Tucker. We’d been separated for eight weeks, and it felt so good when he ran into my arms.

  While I was home, Mark and I rehearsed many hours to make up for the time I’d been away. This was the first time I’d missed rehearsals, and I was worried it would affect our performance. That made me a little testy with Mark during rehearsals, but he was great about it. One of his nicknames for me was BOJ (which stood for “bundle of joy”), but that week he threatened to change the “J” because I wasn’t being very joyful.

  I was so glad Mark had come to Iowa to practice because that meant he could go with me to the CHARACTER COUNTS! benefit on Friday evening. Five hundred people gathered at the Hy-Vee Conference Center in West Des Moines to honor me with the Robert D. Ray Pillar of Character Award. After a video introduction, I walked up to the podium to the strains of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.” Most people don’t get honored in their lifetime as much as I got honored in that one week. It was very humbling.

  When I accepted the award, I made a speech, and I could have sworn that Mark teared up. I was happy he was there. But the best part was getting to receive such an honor in my own hometown.

  Everywhere I went that week, one question kept coming up: “Are you going to return to gymnastics?” People were probably just curious, but they had no idea how complex my feelings were on the subject or
how much uncertainty that question caused inside me. However, I’d usually just smile and say that, after DWTS, I planned on returning to the gym and seeing how my body responded. People seemed satisfied with this, especially after I assured them that I probably would be back one day. I didn’t tell them I feared it might not even be possible.

  I hated to say good-bye to Tucker (not to mention my dad), but Mark and I had to go back to Los Angeles, where all of the last-minute preparations for the show took place. For two straight days, Mark and I were either rehearsing our individual dance or rehearsing the group dance with the other contestants. Our only breaks were spent sleeping or grabbing something to eat. On show day, I slept. That night, I was really nervous that my time away would affect my performance. Thankfully, it didn’t. We scored 9-9-10.

  I was glad that week went so well, because the next week we had to perform the samba, which I found very frustrating.

  “We need to see some more personality!” Mark said. He must have told me that a thousand times.

  I had the moves down, but Mark wasn’t happy. “Those are the right steps,” he said, “but we need to see more personality. I want it to sizzle.”

  As much as I tried, my dancing wasn’t as elegant and feminine as he had hoped. That’s when he brought in his mom, Shirley Ballas, who is also a world champion dance instructor. Though I was a little embarrassed that I needed so much extra help, I wanted to win the competition.

  “You’re swinging your arms like you’re swinging a baseball bat,” Shirley told me. “You need to elongate your arms into more feminine movements.” Then she performed my part of the samba flawlessly. She also emphasized that I really needed to show emotion. Apparently, judges notice whether you’re “in character” and whether the dance is moving you.

  “I’ve never seen anyone who had so much difficulty showing emotion,” she said during rehearsal, “and I’ve taught a lot of people.”

  “I just don’t know what to do,” I said after hours of trying not only to learn my steps but also to make sure my face was right.

  “Well, at this stage of the competition,” she said, “you really need to change your cardboard image.”

  Cardboard?

  As soon as she said that, I remembered the time I ran into a cardboard cutout of myself in the soft drink aisle at my local Hy-Vee. Apparently, the whole nation had been gawking at my “cardboard self” on TV.

  What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I overcome my shyness? The day of the competition, I slept in and tried not to think about it. But eventually I had to wake up, walk out on that stage, and be judged.

  The samba went well overall. But the judges, once again, said it wasn’t quite enough. Still, we got a 10-8-9, which was a relief. However, I couldn’t help but think that my heart couldn’t take too much more of this roller coaster.

  Thankfully, it didn’t have to.

  Only three weeks remained, and I focused like never before on dancing as well as I possibly could. And I seemed to be getting better. Every week I tried desperately to show more personality, until—finally—we reached the semifinals, where we had to perform the Argentine tango. For the first time we received a perfect score: 10-10-10! I was thrilled, and the judges cooed over how well I delivered the emotional content. We were in the finals.

  The last episode of the show was a two-hour extravaganza. As it went on, I got more and more nervous as I watched from backstage. Lady Gaga performed in one of her flamboyant costumes, which provided enough of a distraction to make me forget for a few minutes that this emotional road was coming to an end. Each couple had to dance twice during the show, including one of the dances from earlier in the season. Mark and I chose the cha-cha.

  I felt so much more comfortable onstage, and I could tell that I had improved. When I heard the judges’ score—10-10-10— I breathed a sigh of relief.

  The other dance we had to perform was the freestyle, which was my favorite of the season. There were no rules; it was simply a fun way to end the season. We received another perfect score.

  In the end, the popular vote would determine the winner. After a very dramatic announcement, Melissa was voted off. She had scored third place in the show, and it honestly hurt me to see her step down. She’d been asked to join the show at the last minute to replace someone who’d been injured, and she’d done an amazing job!

  Then, after all of these weeks of hard work, training, high heels, and fake eyelashes, it was finally time to find out who’d won. Gilles stood with his partner, Cheryl Burke, and I stood with Mark. Standing on that stage, I felt satisfied that I’d done the best I could. This would be the tightest outcome in the show’s history, we were told. Apparently the winning team won by less than one percent of the vote.

  “It’s come down to this moment,” Tom said.

  “Gilles and Cheryl,” he read and paused dramatically. “Gilles, you thrilled audiences from the first night of the competition with your consistently fantastic dancing. Did the viewers vote to give you the trophy?”

  “Shawn and Mark,” the host said. “Shawn, in the past few weeks, you’ve risen to the level of a true champion. Did the viewers decide to hand you the trophy? After eleven hard-fought weeks of competition, the winners and new champions of Dancing with the Stars are . . .”

  It felt like forever that the host let the announcement hang in the air. My heart raced, and I tried to maintain a calm face. But when he said, “Shawn and Mark!” I felt nothing but jubilation.

  Immediately, Mark embraced me and twirled me around. The next few minutes were a blur of confetti, hugs, the mirror ball trophy, and Mark repeatedly falling on the floor. I’d done it! I’d faced my fears and simultaneously managed to win Dancing with the Stars.

  Finally, life could get back to normal.

  Lesson I’ve Learned

  Surround yourself with people who you know love you for who you are and want the best for you. Then don’t be afraid to open your heart to them.

  Chapter 26

  Learning to Be Me Again

  Cherish the journey. . . . When we do, we appreciate the process rather than the outcome. We realize that even in life’s not-so-good moments we are exactly where we are supposed to be.

  —Unknown

  THE MIRROR BALL TROPHY wasn’t the only souvenir I brought home from Dancing with the Stars. As our season wrapped up, I was given the option of purchasing the handmade, custom-designed costumes I had performed in. Each one had been cut and assembled by seamstresses from fabrics shipped from a dance company in Europe. Every rhinestone and sequin had been painstakingly sewn on by hand; every cut had been made to complement my body and our specific dance for that week. Even though it seemed a little extravagant, I couldn’t resist the offer. I wanted to keep those costumes as a reminder of my time in Hollywood.

  I’d had a lot of fun competing on DWTS, but the biggest upside was that I’d proved to myself that I could excel at more than just gymnastics. Whenever I opened my closet doors and caught a glimpse of my yellow-floral Chiquita banana ensemble or my black-and-white polka-dot dress with the hot-pink fringe, I was reminded that if I put my mind to it, I could do just about anything.

  It took me a while to figure out that there was a downside to my DWTS experience: I’d developed a bit of a Hollywood attitude. I’d started feeling the need to look cute at all times in case the paparazzi showed up. I’d become comfortable with all the glitter, the rhinestones, the red-carpet movie premieres, the attention from reporters, and the TV cameras that followed my every move. Without realizing it, I’d been influenced by some of the celebrities I’d met, people I looked up to.

  My parents emphasized repeatedly that I shouldn’t let others’ expectations color my own personality and behavior. But in spite of my upbringing, for a while I lost myself in California. The differences in my personality were subtle, but they were there. For example, I stopped listening to country music. With the exception of Chuck Wicks, the DWTS cast thought the crooning and the thick accents we
re absurd. They listened to hip-hop. I found myself skipping over the country tunes on my iPod in favor of the newer, “cooler” songs.

  I also found myself being less patient when I was out in public. Did the woman in front of me really have to tell the cashier about every detail of her day? My Midwestern manners were falling by the wayside too. I realized I didn’t automatically say “please” and “thank you” anymore.

  When I was on the show, I felt like a princess in my custom-made garments and meticulously applied makeup. Like Cinderella at the ball, I enjoyed twirling around and having fun on the dance floor. However, even then I knew that the clock was ticking and that all of it would disappear soon enough.

  I just didn’t realize how suddenly the void would appear. One day I was basking in the congratulations and compliments that came from weeks of hard work; the next, I was back in West Des Moines without an immediate goal to shoot for. Even my friends seemed to have disappeared from my day-to-day life. The friends I’d made in Hollywood obviously didn’t follow me home to Iowa. Not only that, but now my high school friends were preparing to head off to college.

  I’d returned to high school only once in the spring of 2009, to talk with my counselor. When I did, it was chaos. Valley High had over two thousand students—it’s the largest high school in Iowa—and on the day I came back to campus, it seemed like most of them started running after me, asking for autographs, or swarming the doorways simply trying to get a peek at me. I couldn’t even walk down the hallway to get to my locker without causing a stir.

  Clearly, I couldn’t return to school. So instead of spending the remainder of my senior year going to dances, gossiping in the halls, and agonizing over where to sit in the cafeteria, I spent it in front of my computer screen taking online classes.