OK, before I start this one, I must clarify that I am completely qualified to distribute disdain and judgement on pageants, because I used to do them. I never did the little girl ones, but I do have some experience in this realm.
Today, while perusing Craigslist, Monster, and CareerBuilder for jobs, I put some trashy daytime on TV for background noise. As I begrudgingly scrolled through dismal job after dismal job, I happened to notice a program called Little Miss Perfect. Have you heard of this one? It's one of these reality shows that trails the comings and goings of the teensy little divas that participate in kiddie pageants. Well, that's sort of misleading. The little girls are more of an afterthought, as center stage is typically stolen by the enormous fustercluck that is a Pageant Mom.
Now, for a moment, let's discuss the disturbing amount of money that is spent to make these kids look like a Marie Osmond procelain doll on crack. Fake hair. Fake tans. Fake eyelashes. Fake teeth. Dresses. Costumes. Shoes. And, of course, props. Oh, how these girls love their props. On today's show, I witnessed a six year old little girl who dressed as a Marine, and danced about with a giant cardboard tank, built around her brother's dirtbike. Don't you know he just loved that? At the end of the day, these moms are spending $3,000 per pageant, at a minimum. Minimum! And for what? College scholarships? A new car? A shot at curing cancer, maybe? NO! At the most, these teeny tots get a check for a grand, a basket of puppies, and a pat on the back. If they even win! I don't know about you, but that's a little something I like to call jacked up.
You may be thinking that these moms are indulging their sweet little girls who dream of being a princess for a day, all in the name of love. You would be wrong. The common denominator in these women, aside from an extra 75 pounds around the midsection, is this primal need to win something. Near as I can tell, these are women who were never exceptionally successful at anything competitive in their own lives and are therefore pimping their babies for a tiara and a sash. And the hilarious thing is that only a quarter of these little girls actually want to do the damn pageants in the first place; most of the time, moms are bribing their little ones to practice interview questions and "walk pretty" with Pixi Stix and Fun Dip. And you wonder why they need fake teeth...
And God bless the ugly siblings of these poor little girls. Most families have one talented little girl and one Eeyore. Droopy eyed and perpetually sighing, the "other sister" just lacks the pizazz that Mommy Dearest sees in the shining star child, and suffers relentlessly for it. This is the kid that hold her sister's papier mache pirate ship in place on stage while the Amazing one twirls about in her pretty dress. The kid who spends her birthday at the dance studio watching her sister rehearse her dance for the talent competition. The kid who gets a pet parakeet to her sister's pet pony.
I suppose what has made me so critically aware of the dysfunction in these tulle parades is the adorable-ness that is my sweet child. Cricket is just one of those babies who will giggle raucously because I put the groceries away. She smiles from ear to ear when she toots in the bathtub. Basically, everything she does is hopelessly cute, and she wakes up every day blissfully pleased with herself for no apparent reason. I know that every mother must feel this way. I mean, honestly, what parent doesn't believe their offspring is the greatest thing since sliced bread? The disconnect comes, however, when the parent makes the most hidious of judgement errors, and assumes that everyone else in the world agrees. So, what is the next logical step? A pageant, of course! Oh God, I can hear the conversation around the Taco Bell table now... "Just think, Bobby. If McKayla Louise is pretty in a Carter's onesie, she'll be twice as pretty in a $2,000 pink taffeta dress, with three punds of fake curly hair pasted on her head and a spray-on tan! Surely, she's cute enough to beat out those other hobo-children and win the grand prize: a basket of semi-purebred Yorkie puppies and a $200 Chick Fil A gift certificate... We won't have to cook for weeks!"
Get real, Rhonda Jo! Sure, your kid is cute. Maybe even exceptionally cute, cuter than the average little rag-a-muffin. But brace yourself, because I've got news for you: no amount of cute is reason to dress your child like something old diabetic women buy on QVC at 2:30 a.m. instead of their insulin. None. And do you know why? Because eventually, she'll grow up. You think a woman with daddy issues is bad? You ain't seen nothin' til you've met a former kiddie pageant survivor. Can you imagine support group meetings for these poor girls? The multi-purpose room at the community center would be draped in chiffon and transformed into a makeshift stage, while they all compete for a busted tennis racket as a trophy....
My point, mothers and fathers, is that your child is precious enough with all the frills and the rhinestones. Nothing in the world can compare to a simple toothless grin from a drooling baby. Because at the end of the day, it's far better to win her love than it is is watch her win someone else's approval.
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