Stage moms, Southern style. Little girls, 5 years old and under, spray tans, crazy Dolly Parton hair, sequined bikinis. Ballroom B at the airport Hilton. Age-appropriate dance music. Fierce, fierce competition. In a word: Glerv. Like, totally.
After watching for several minutes, all I could think was “I must procreate.”
But not for the reason you’d think.
You see, if I had a daughter of my own I could get backstage at one of these pageants and then, finally, punch the daylights out of everybody. “Stop taking money from these people, you jerks!” I’d yell at the pageant directors as I socked them in their kidneys. “Re-bleach your child’s skin and put her in some dungarees, for Lord’s sake!” I’d holler at each mom I elbowed in the side. And then I’d turn on the dads.
The dads are the worst part. Forgive me, but I was always under the impression that a girl’s father is supposed to provide her with a strong male role model. You know, show up at piano recitals, teach her how to change a tire (or shoot a possum, if necessary), and make sure she doesn’t date cretins. The basics. Pageant Dads are not this kind of man. From what I saw, they all seem to be either too afraid of their wives, or too stupid, to acknowledge that their four year-olds are dressed like exotic dancers. Not only do they allow this behavior, they encourage it. Wearing t-shirts studded with rhinestones that spell our their child’s name, and hooting, “Shake your bootie, sweetheart!” during the swimsuit competition? That’s grounds for a poundin’, says I.
So to review: I’m going to reproduce, use my offspring to grant me backstage access to one of these Lil’ Miss Already Ruined pageants, and then really let ’em all have it. Or, I guess I just won’t watch the show any more.
I think I’ve mentioned this before, but do they have a swimsuit competition?
And before you know it, a number of these girls will have grown up and will be dancing. On stages, with poles, on laps and tables. For men. At airport bars. For money.
I would be so with you in the backstage punching spree.
That is…if I could ever get my kiddo in a dress.