Sometimes I watch Toddlers & Tiaras.
DON’T JUDGE ME! Because I only watch it so I can judge THEM and make myself feel better about my personal brand of crazy. See, there’s a really touchy subject in the south. Some places have soccer moms? We have pageant moms.
Let me just sum up a bit of the random ridiculousness I’ve heard in these shows:
“She wants to be an olympic gymnast but that stops you from developing, so she’s going to have to give it up. No one likes the muscle look.”
“I don’t care if she likes pageants. When she’s 18 she can choose whether or not she wants to do them.”
“All children are beautiful …mostly. But none are more beautifuller than [kid’s name]”
“She’s a diva. Yeah, sometimes she punches me but we’ve won $20,000.”
Let’s not even talk about the spray tanning, fake teeth, plucking and shaving they’re doing to toddlers. Look, if my nieces want to be in pageants, I’ll be right there cheering for them because yay! But I also know that my brother and my SIL are not the sort who are going to mortgage the house for the props for a Glitz pageant that the kid doesn’t even want to do.
But I’ve decided I’m going to invent a pageant daughter for myself. I saw someone on pinterest create a fashionable fictional toddler, so I think I’m going to do that, but more. I’m going to have a fake pageant kid. That way I can further the stereotype in the best possible way.
Let’s pretend my imaginary pageant kid is a 3 year old blonde girl because they always win. I’m gonna get RuPaul to do her makeup and pick out her gown. I’m going to get the Juliard school of dance to do her choreography but we’re going to start training her in utero, so back up just enough to imagine teaching a fetus to pirouette. So let’s assume everything goes to plan and my child comes out of the birth canal with a grace that stupefies the doctors and her talent is singing. She sang Ave Maria when the doctor slapped her, by the way; she didn’t cry like the common neonates (amateurs!).
Stay tuned. Because I plan to have lots of adventures with my newly minted fictional pageant daughter. We are going to take the nation by storm. I might even draw her portrait. (But probably it’ll be more like a stick figure that sparkles.)
Assume also, please that when we mortgaged the house for the glitz pageant dress and accoutrements that we also tacked on a secondary house to store the crowns and sashes and trophies and that the kid has a purse puppy. Because this seems to be required and my fake pageant kid isn’t going to be lacking any benefit having too much money can buy.