Bratty 4-year-olds caked in inexplicable amounts of makeup, psychotic middle-aged women forcing their young daughters to skip a meal to fit in full-sequined dresses, and more glitter than you'd find in every sorority house in the world combined: This is the world of pageantry.
As I used to see it, at least.
As a rambunctious and stubborn eighth grader with virtually no self-esteem, I had absolutely no interest in this world of pageantry. 14-year-old me thought that paying 25 bucks to be in a contest where three strangers judge 20 little girls on who is the prettiest was unfair and weird. (It is pretty weird when you put it like that.) My mom, however, decided that I needed a new hobby and forced me to participate in a local beauty pageant. I protested, I cried, I threw "Toddlers and Tiaras" style fits because there was no way I could go through with it.
Of course, at the hands of Mom, I did. I put on my sister’s old prom dress, put my hair in rollers, and paid a woman I’d never met before to make me look like I was ten years older than I really was. I paraded around the stage feeling like the biggest freak show in town. I smiled until my entire face was numb, used my “pretty feet,” swore one of my fake eyelashes came off mid-blink, and felt like a huge phony.
I won.
As a woman bobby-pinned a cheap plastic crown to my overly hairsprayed head and pinned the sash around me, I felt something very strange inside of me, something I never expected to feel: excitement. Out of all of these beautiful and talented girls on stage, they saw something special in me. I had the title, the crown, a permanent spot on the local parade route, and all of the glory I could imagine in this little Southern town. From this moment on, I was a competing machine. I was addicted to beauty pageants.
Over the next two years, I entered in every local pageant I heard about. I won some, I lost some, but for the first time in my life I felt good about myself. Being onstage in a beautiful dress and having everyone stop to look at me was like a rush of adrenaline – I needed more and more of it.
My mom finally suggested that maybe I should try getting involved with charities that put on pageants so that my titles and crowns wouldn’t be in vein; I’d actually get to give back something for once. I competed in and won the Queen of Pink pageant, a pageant organized by a group of women dedicated to raising awareness and finding a cure for breast cancer. Once I started working with them, I wondered why I wasted the last two years of my life not being more involved in philanthropy. Once a month for a whole year, I was able to put on my beautiful crown and donate my time to helping a different woman in my area who suffered from breast cancer. I was able to use my love for pageantry to develop a new love for helping others.
While my Queen of Pink title was four years ago and I will not be returning to pageants any time soon (if ever), I am one proud ex-pageant girl. Although I still find glitter and loose rhinestones around my house, pageants helped me gain confidence in myself and opened my eyes to a world of helping others, something I will always cherish. Much to the chagrin of my eighth grade self and the delight of my mother, I will never regret my time as a pageant queen.
