Prancing....
The state in which we now reside is historically known for exploiting its children to some degree. Crazy football for the boys and cutthroat cheering for the girls as soon as they take their first steps. And don't forget beauty pageants. Oh my, the pageants. I've never been up close and personal with one, and have always chided them from afar. I never understood how it was acceptable for parents to paint more makeup on their daughter than I wear in a week, tease and spray her hair until it's so stiff a Texas twister couldn't move it, and doll her up in a gaudy pink poof of a dress so she looks like a walking cupcake. Then to top it off, plop the poor little thing onto a stage with blinding lights and expect her to prance around on cue like a circus pony, swinging her hips while wearing a plastered on smile like a senator's wife in the Fourth of July Parade. Gads.
So when Sean came home one day last week and said that he had entered Carly in the Lil' Miss Liberty Pageant, why wasn't my first reaction to freak out and start in on the tirade of how morally against these things I am? Was it because of the fact that I have a beautiful child and there's no other little girl on the planet as charismatic as she? Did I subconsciously think that she would set foot on the stage and the crowd would be entranced by her every move? I don't know. When Sean and I talked about it, we agreed that it would be a good way to gauge how comfortable Carly could be in the spotlight as a segue into the real side of showbiz we hope to eventually get her into.
I read the brochure for said LMLP, and it emphasized that no heavy makeup or hairpieces (ack, these kids wear hairpieces?) were allowed, and they were looking for natural girls doing what they do naturally. Contestants were to bring both a casual outfit and a dress, but were not being judged on apparel, only that it was age appropriate. Okay, so far so good. We were so unconcerned about the whole thing that we didn't even remember it until this morning. No prep, no practicing. I just grabbed a couple of things from Carly's closet, ran an iron over them (now that's what I call dressing up) and combed her hair. We jumped in the car and off we went.
From the start I knew this was not what was on the brochure. There they were, throngs of pint sized Barbies and Junior Miss Sunflower Princesses. I have never seen highlights on a six-year-old before. Granted, there were some girls there whose parents actually thought the guidelines were to be followed as stated, but for the most part I was surrounded by an army of little prom queens. Still, Carly and I lined up for our practice run, right behind the mother barking orders at her daughter like a drill sergeant. "The X Buffy, go to the X! Now turn. Hand on hip. Keep smiling. Now prissy walk. I said prissy walk, not prance! We did not spend two hours in the garage last night for you to prance when you're supposed to prissy walk!" I kid you not folks.
I guessed that Carly should have something to show the judges, so I asked her to stop on the X, make a happy face, and wave to the people. We practiced two or three times, left the arena, and went out to the lobby to play "I'm gonna get you" while most of the other girls got their third layer of war paint.
When the time came, Carly was first up to bat. We waited in the wings for the MC to call her name. Once, twice, then again because Carly thought it was much more fun to jump up in the air and land on her bottom, and it took me a minute to get her to stay on two feet. Out we walked hand in hand to the first X, on which Carly immediately stomped. Then came the smile and the wave. Certainly not a pro, but not bad for a two-year-old. She seemed to enjoy herself even. By the second X I knew she was completely at ease. As we made our exit, my sweet baby announced, "I did it!" Yes Honey, you sure did.
After more goofing off in the lobby, I changed Carly into her little pink sundress with her corkscrew curls loose and wild. A very cute choice I thought, but oh so plain compared to the getups around us. I thought I was trapped in a Nutcracker Suite nightmare. By showtime the excitement paired with the lack of a nap was taking its toll on Carly. She was so over the whole thing at this point that she barely stopped the tantrum she was throwing in time to take the stage. This time, instead of walking to each X, she decided to hop like a frog. There went the points for poise. She did remember to smile and wave, and even added a "Hi" all on her own. All I could do was laugh and silently thank her for being her. Heck, I wanted to start hopping with her. Offstage, the drill sergeant mom offered her condolences for Carly's behavior and commented that with practice I could train her to listen to direction. Ppppphhhlllllttttt!
Needless to say, Carly didn't become Lil' Miss Liberty 2007 in the two to three-year-old division. Honestly, I could not have cared less. Will I ever enter her into another pageant? Believe it or not, yes. It is a great way for her to become comfortable in front of a crowd, which will help her both socially and academically. Do I expect her to win? Absolutely not. I will never turn my child into a mini robot which is what these poor little girls seem to become and is exactly what the judges are looking for. I love my crazy kid and I'm proud of her free spirit. To me, she will always be a star wearing a sparkly tiara. Even if it does come from Target.
The state in which we now reside is historically known for exploiting its children to some degree. Crazy football for the boys and cutthroat cheering for the girls as soon as they take their first steps. And don't forget beauty pageants. Oh my, the pageants. I've never been up close and personal with one, and have always chided them from afar. I never understood how it was acceptable for parents to paint more makeup on their daughter than I wear in a week, tease and spray her hair until it's so stiff a Texas twister couldn't move it, and doll her up in a gaudy pink poof of a dress so she looks like a walking cupcake. Then to top it off, plop the poor little thing onto a stage with blinding lights and expect her to prance around on cue like a circus pony, swinging her hips while wearing a plastered on smile like a senator's wife in the Fourth of July Parade. Gads.
So when Sean came home one day last week and said that he had entered Carly in the Lil' Miss Liberty Pageant, why wasn't my first reaction to freak out and start in on the tirade of how morally against these things I am? Was it because of the fact that I have a beautiful child and there's no other little girl on the planet as charismatic as she? Did I subconsciously think that she would set foot on the stage and the crowd would be entranced by her every move? I don't know. When Sean and I talked about it, we agreed that it would be a good way to gauge how comfortable Carly could be in the spotlight as a segue into the real side of showbiz we hope to eventually get her into.
I read the brochure for said LMLP, and it emphasized that no heavy makeup or hairpieces (ack, these kids wear hairpieces?) were allowed, and they were looking for natural girls doing what they do naturally. Contestants were to bring both a casual outfit and a dress, but were not being judged on apparel, only that it was age appropriate. Okay, so far so good. We were so unconcerned about the whole thing that we didn't even remember it until this morning. No prep, no practicing. I just grabbed a couple of things from Carly's closet, ran an iron over them (now that's what I call dressing up) and combed her hair. We jumped in the car and off we went.
From the start I knew this was not what was on the brochure. There they were, throngs of pint sized Barbies and Junior Miss Sunflower Princesses. I have never seen highlights on a six-year-old before. Granted, there were some girls there whose parents actually thought the guidelines were to be followed as stated, but for the most part I was surrounded by an army of little prom queens. Still, Carly and I lined up for our practice run, right behind the mother barking orders at her daughter like a drill sergeant. "The X Buffy, go to the X! Now turn. Hand on hip. Keep smiling. Now prissy walk. I said prissy walk, not prance! We did not spend two hours in the garage last night for you to prance when you're supposed to prissy walk!" I kid you not folks.
I guessed that Carly should have something to show the judges, so I asked her to stop on the X, make a happy face, and wave to the people. We practiced two or three times, left the arena, and went out to the lobby to play "I'm gonna get you" while most of the other girls got their third layer of war paint.
When the time came, Carly was first up to bat. We waited in the wings for the MC to call her name. Once, twice, then again because Carly thought it was much more fun to jump up in the air and land on her bottom, and it took me a minute to get her to stay on two feet. Out we walked hand in hand to the first X, on which Carly immediately stomped. Then came the smile and the wave. Certainly not a pro, but not bad for a two-year-old. She seemed to enjoy herself even. By the second X I knew she was completely at ease. As we made our exit, my sweet baby announced, "I did it!" Yes Honey, you sure did.
After more goofing off in the lobby, I changed Carly into her little pink sundress with her corkscrew curls loose and wild. A very cute choice I thought, but oh so plain compared to the getups around us. I thought I was trapped in a Nutcracker Suite nightmare. By showtime the excitement paired with the lack of a nap was taking its toll on Carly. She was so over the whole thing at this point that she barely stopped the tantrum she was throwing in time to take the stage. This time, instead of walking to each X, she decided to hop like a frog. There went the points for poise. She did remember to smile and wave, and even added a "Hi" all on her own. All I could do was laugh and silently thank her for being her. Heck, I wanted to start hopping with her. Offstage, the drill sergeant mom offered her condolences for Carly's behavior and commented that with practice I could train her to listen to direction. Ppppphhhlllllttttt!
Needless to say, Carly didn't become Lil' Miss Liberty 2007 in the two to three-year-old division. Honestly, I could not have cared less. Will I ever enter her into another pageant? Believe it or not, yes. It is a great way for her to become comfortable in front of a crowd, which will help her both socially and academically. Do I expect her to win? Absolutely not. I will never turn my child into a mini robot which is what these poor little girls seem to become and is exactly what the judges are looking for. I love my crazy kid and I'm proud of her free spirit. To me, she will always be a star wearing a sparkly tiara. Even if it does come from Target.
posted by lkmitchell @ 11:41 PM
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