Cold Feet for Comps
Dear Barb,
I really want to enter a grooming competition, but I’m terrified. What if I embarrass myself? What if my groom looks like it was done in a moving vehicle? What if everyone else is amazing and I’m just… there?
Dear Spirited Spiraller,
Yes, well, of course you’re terrified. That’s the correct setting. Anyone breezing into their first competition feeling serene is either delusional or hasn’t clocked what’s about to happen.
The fact that you want to enter at all tells me you care, which already puts you comfortably ahead of the “same haircut since 2009 and proud of it” crowd. So we’re off to a strong start.
Now, this idea that you’re going to walk in, disgrace yourself, and be remembered forever as “that one with the unfortunate outline” needs to calm right down.
Competitions are not elegant rooms filled with flawless grooming swans gliding about in silence. They are rooms full of groomers who are slightly tense, mildly over-caffeinated, and doing their very best to look like everything is under control when it absolutely is not. Something will be dropped with a noise that stops conversation. Someone will realise they’ve forgotten something critical at the worst possible moment. At least one dog will behave as though grooming is a brand new concept.
It is not a performance of perfection. It is organised chaos with a judge.
As for your groom not being “good enough,” let’s not waste time pretending otherwise. It won’t be perfect. You’ll be under time pressure, under observation, and under lighting that could expose a bad decision from across the room. That’s the whole point. It shows you exactly where you are, not where you imagine yourself to be.
You’re not there to impress the room. You’re there to see what happens when you stop playing it safe.
And what happens is that you go home with a very loud internal commentary about everything you would do differently next time. It’s not always comfortable, but it is extremely effective.
Now, this fear that everyone will realise you don’t know what you’re doing is particularly sweet, because half the room is most definitely thinking the same thing. The difference is some people have learned to keep their face neutral while their brain runs commentary.
Confidence in that space is not about believing you’re the best. It’s about turning up anyway and getting on with it.
Judges are not stalking the room hoping for a failure they can circle. They’re looking for effort, improvement, and potential. Especially in beginners. They quite like people who are having a go.
So let’s look at your worst-case scenario properly, without theatrics. You don’t place. That’s it. No dramatic music. No public shaming. You pack up, go home, and suddenly your everyday work looks different to you. You notice things. You refine things. You fuss over details you used to glide past.
It’s a very efficient way to get better.
If you’re curious, go. Enter the beginner class. Take a dog you know well. Practise the trim. Pack snacks like you’re preparing for a long-haul flight where the only thing at stake is your dignity and a top notch top knot or topline.
And before your imagination gets carried away again, do remember that nobody has ever suffered long-term consequences from a slightly uneven finish. You are grooming a dog. The stakes, while important to you, are not catastrophic.
Terrified and doing it anyway is the entire point.
Now off you go. Be brave, be slightly dramatic about it if you must, and save me a square of that emergency chocolate.
Barb-bye!
