Allison Janney pulled a humility twist this past Sunday night. Upon winning the Oscar^® for Best Supporting Actress, she held the golden statue and said, “I did it all by myself.” Then she smiled, acknowledging nothing was further from the truth.

Isn’t that great? For a moment, she said what no one else would: “I worked hard for this and, while many supported me through the hard times, ultimately, I made a choice to get up every single day and put my big girl pants on.”

There’s a balance between acknowledging the help of others and admitting that no one pushes you better than you.

No one made Allison try for audition after audition, rejection after rejection. No one said, “Oh, Allison, you’ll win the Oscar one day, wear a rockin’ red gown and all those hurtful reviews will be worth it.” Of course, she had friends and family and coworkers who believed in her. She said as much in her acceptance speech.

Which got me thinking. What if we wrote our own acceptance speeches for pivotal times in our lives? What would that look like? Here are a few thoughts:

The early years acceptance speech: To my kindergarten teacher, I’d like to thank you for not choosing me to be the star actor in our class play. You taught me the virtue of resilience. Who wants to be a bunny when you can be a skunk? That’s what my mother told me when I came home crying the day you announced your acting choices.

“But, honey, the audience was laughing with you,” Dad said after the play as I pulled off my skunk ears in the backseat of the car. In the spirit of Allison Janney, I’d like to thank my 5-year-old self for not succumbing to stage nerves and mortification while singing, “I’m a little stinker and I might stink you.”

The teenage years acceptance speech: Let’s face it, a 15-year-old’s life is ripe with killer speech material, but I can pare it down to two words: Air Supply. I owe this music duo’s “All Out of Love” and a driving sense of self-preservation for getting me through many a heartbreak. Copious amounts of Oreo cookies and mint chocolate ice cream also helped.

I’m-in-my-30s acceptance speech: Thank you, Loonette, the famed clown of “The Big Comfy Couch” children’s show. You transfixed my children with your visits to Clowntown so this young mom could make breakfast and get ready for the day. You also gave me permission to accept the dust bunnies beneath my couch. I will always love you for this.

I made it to midlife acceptance speech: Thank you, Pinot Grigio. That is all.

The wow acceptance speech: At this point, life is one big wow. Wow, I’m still here. Wow, wasn’t I just 20 years old like a minute ago? Wow, when did my eyelids start to sag? Wow, who knew HGTV could be so deep? Watch “House Hunters” for a crash course in human psychology and you’ll see. Wow, life is beautiful. Wow, life is hard. Wow, going to bed early really is a good idea. Wow, nothing beats love. Ever.

To members of the academy of life, thank you for the privilege of living it. I owe a lifetime supply of Oreo cookies in your honor.