My little dark horse

A few weeks ago, my 5 year old daughter came to me after school and said, "Mom, I want to be in a pageant." I used my standard response: "away, I wish you could honey, but they don't have pageants in Arkansas." Yes, it's a huge lie. Right up there with,"People in Texas don't wear cowboy hats." So what? We lie about Santa, too. This was not any different. "Well, Hayley Z. said that the fair pageant is in three weeks and you said the fair was coming, so I want to be in the fair pageant."

Damn schools. Pageant Peer Pressure. Who knew it would start this soon?

So, I did the old, "We'll see." and waited until she went to bed and then talked to everyone I knew about it.

You see, I have to admit something here.

I am anti-pageant. I am also anti-cheerleading, and anti-homecoming, and pretty much any other thing overtly girly. I am pageant prejudiced. Until I birthed Tiny Miss America out of my womb, I was the woman making snide comments when the paper came out announcing the pageant contestants / winners. I, along with friends of mine, (you know who you are!!) would poke fun at them when they rode in the parade, waving from the back of a rusty pickup truck, body glitter expertly applied, teeth vasilened up, crown hot glued to their hair... see, I am doing it again!

So, I asked around. Everyone that knows Elizabeth personally just insisted that this was something she HAD to do. (We actually talked about this last year, and one of Marty's friends has a little girl that does pageants, and I called her to talk about what all pageants entail and she told me not to bother because if Elizabeth was not starting out until she was 4 years old, it would just be a waste of everyone's time. Uh... bite me!) I was still unsure, until I had two different businesses step forward to sponsor her... shit, I was stuck then!

So we went a couple of weeks ago to try on dresses. I was edgy, cranky. Girls like me do not go into pageant shops. When I went shopping for my prom dress 40 years ago, a saleslady in one of the dress shops was so rude to me that I left in tears. I never again stepped into a dress shop. Until two weeks ago.

There was so much pink and ruffles and Austrian crystals that I thought I might throw up. Cutesy overload. Fluffamopicalgia, in medical terms. I was afraid to touch anything. I stood there, in the threshold, trying to decide how I ended up in this hell, when a tiny voice beside me said breathlessly, "Momma, what size do I need?" I looked down at Elizabeth, and she is flushed with joy. Her eyes are shining, and she is grinning from ear to ear. And it hits me all at once. This is a homecoming for her. All these years with a mom that rarely wears makeup, a dad that only cares about fishing and boats, and a brother that likes to wipe his foot on her head, and she finally found the place where she belongs. We fight every single morning because she wants to wear a dress every single day. I can't understand why she can't wear the jeans and sweaters and combat boots that I buy her... and she can't understand why I don't want to wear a dress and heels every day. But in that dress shop, she has found her niche.

So we start looking for dresses. We grabbed a handful of size 6's, but after we try on a few, we realize that the great size coverup really does exist in the pageant and bridal world. The 6's are falling off of her. We had to get 4's, which she has not worn in almost 2 years. We try on at least 30 dresses, and she has squealed with delight over each one. The saleslady is EXTREMELY helpful and kind to us. We finally narrowed it down to two dresses: a beautiful melon colored dress and an equally beautiful black one. The melon one is twice the price of the black, but since someone else was paying, it really was not an issue. But we just could not make a decision.

Until the saleslady said, "Maybe we could look at some shoes..." and brings out two pair. A gold pair for the melon dress, and a black pair. But oh! these are not just simple black shoes!! They have heels, and in the heels are water and floating around happily in the water are FISH! I wanted a pair in my size! And like that, the decision was made. The saleslady wrapped up the black dress and sent us on our way.

The pageant was yesterday. I finally see why people say pageants are hard work. Rehearsals were at noon and lasted until 1:30. Then we had to head to my aunts house to have hair, makeup and nails done... and that took three hours. And in the meantime, I was hauling around a 30+ pound cranky toddler, who was not one bit amused with the pageant process.

We get to the auditorium and head backstage to sit with the other girls. All the years of making fun of pageant moms and their little princesses make me feel like I have stepped through the looking glass. I expected to see girls begging to just put on their shorts and tank tops and go out and play baseball. It is what I would have wanted at their age. I expected to see mothers spanking their daughters with hair brushes and coathangers and screeching at them through clenched teeth to "get out there and smile like your life flipping depends on it!!!"

But instead, there were 12 little girls admiring each others dresses and talking about school while prancing around and making their curls bounce. Their exhausted mothers sat around and talked about work, and about their husbands, and about their other kids. What??? Where is the pageant drama?? Where is the mother secretly pouring bleach all over the competitions dress? Where are the cat fights? Where are the tears? The cross words? Threats? Gossip?? Oh wait, there was gossip. It just was not about the pageant. I am stunned. Seriously. S T U N N E D.

They kick us all out about 20 minutes to show time. I head out into the auditorium to find the rest of my family. They are sitting on the left side, near the middle. I am kind of annoyed that they didn't try to get closer, because now I am going to have to jump all around trying to get pictures.

The lights come down, and the former Miss Arkansas, Jessie Ward steps out. She is our emcee, and seems really nice. She gives her little speech and it all gets underway.

Elizabeth was #11, and floored me with her grace, her eagerness. She shows no fear, keeps smiling and stands straight, even though I have not trained her at all... hell, I wouldn't know how! She comes out for her turn in the "introduction" segment and struts right up to the microphone and clearly announces, "HI! I am Elizabeth!" stops, poses, and heads backstage. During her interview, Miss Ward asks her "Elizabeth, what do you want to be when you grow up?" all the other girls have said "teacher" or "doctor" or in one precious instance, "a dog helper"... my little baby says, "I would like to be an artist, because I love to draw!" Excuse me, I need to go hug her.

Now, all along I have said, "This is all just for fun. There is no way she is going to even come close to winning, especially considering this is her first pageant." But now, as the girls line up one final time, I realize that she DOES have a chance. She really did good! And believe it or not, Miss Ward announced, "And our second runner up is.... ELIZABETH ADAIR!!" And the crowd goes wild! She stood up there clutching that trophy like someone was going to rip it from her teeny hands. She was so proud of herself. And we are all so proud of her.