I moved to the south three years ago, and let me tell you: The last thing I thought I would be doing come Fall 2014 was searching for a cocktail dress to wear to the Louisiana Cotton Festival Coronation and Crowning of Queen Cotton LXI.
I guess that’s what I get for having a pageant girl as a best friend.
I am about as far from pageant material as they come, and believe me my best friend knows that. Before I met Kaelah Cobb, I didn’t know how to put on eye shadow, much less concealer (I think that’s what it’s called). I have grown accustom to the weekly complaints about the length and color of her fake nails, and the constant search for formal dresses that are “Cotton Queen” colors.
My mom knows her by her title and I can almost always safely assume that if she’s on a sudden health kick she’s got some sort of event coming up, at which she will wear a crown that weighs more than my backpack does during finals. She knows when she needs to “put on her face” and answers questions from professors like they came straight out of one of those little fishbowls. Let’s just say the girl is committed to being a queen.
She knows what’s up when it comes to pageant life and that’s all there is to it. It was almost a year ago that Kaelah was asking me - a near stranger at the time - if she should come out of retirement to kick some pageant ass. When I agreed that she would make a great Cotton Queen, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Most of the time I feel like one of those moms on "Toddlers and Tiaras," watching her tease her hair and throw tantrums when her dresses don’t fit just right. She has, on numerous occasions, called herself “the real queen,” referencing her superiority to none other than Beyoncé. Basically, she is as high maintenance as you would expect a pageant queen to be.
I never thought I would say that my best friend was the girl wearing a crown, but now, as she ends her journey and hands down her title, I am beginning to feel just the slightest bit nostalgic. Sure, I am a hippie girl from Colorado who had never watched a pageant when I moved here - much less been to one - but I can now say that I am a better person for having been along for this ride. Her pageant training has taught her much more than just how to be a great queen. It has taught her to be poised, compassionate, encouraging, and fun. Who doesn’t want that in a best friend?
I may not be a queen, but when she forces me to go to the gym with her and drags me to nail appointments, I sort of begin to feel like one. And I hardly think it’s a bad thing for everyone to treat themselves like a queen sometimes.
