Sunday, October 4, 2009

First Loser to the Big Girls....


The only crown I ever won in a beauty pageant, I won by default. True story. I wish I could say I competed lots, and always got to take that walk down the stage, waving to my fans, doing my mouthed "Thank you, oh, thank you!" But I didn't. I practiced when I was little. We had pretend pageants in our basement after the Miss America pageant ~ my sister was the BEST! And her friends were hysterical... but even then, I didn't get to win. I was still the "stupid little sister." Sigh.


But, I have to admit that the only beauty pageants I was in growing up really centered around our school pageants, and they were fund raisers and ways to wear my Easter dress again when I was in Elementary and Middle School, and ways to wear my Prom dress again when I was in High School. My parents were practical people, you see. Now, when I was a senior in high school, my best friend was crowned our high school queen and I was first runner up and my other best friend was second runner up. We were ecstatic! That was, until one of the "little" girls who did not place (and I say little because she was one of those under 5'3" less than 85 pound girls who ALWAYS won or placed!) came up to us and said, "They must have been going for that 'Big Girl' look this year." What the hell? The Queen said, "Well, there you go. I'm Queen of the Big Girls." To which I replied, "At least you aren't the First Loser of the Big Girls!" A banner moment in my life. I so love that one! :)


But, back to my "Default Crown." When I was a junior in college, Mrs. June Ramsey called and begged me to come home and compete in the Jefferson County Miss Southern Sweetheart Pageant, as she had few entrants and needed some. I agreed, as I didn't have much going on that weekend. When I arrived at the high school lunch room (yes, you read that correctly... this pageant was being held at the local high school lunch room ~ high cotton here!), I was informed that I was the only contestant who was coming to compete that day in the "Miss" division, so I was the winner. Therefore, I needed to change into my gown and help with crowning and emceeing all the other events. Ta da! I was so excited!!! Plus, I got to ride in the Christmas Parade and.... compete in the State Miss Southern Sweetheart Competition! (This is where I should have run away... run far, far away.)


My mother, sister and I thought we had the State Competition under control. We looked over the paperwork, typed up my application, and began to get my wardrobe together. Yes, ladies and gentleman, my Talbots/Old Maine Trotter/L.L. Bean/Laura Ashley loving mother and my ultra-conservative sister and I (the girl who looked like a 40-year-old woman in high school) put our heads together to plan my wardrobe. This had to be good! There was sportswear, bathing suit, business attire, and evening wear. And, I was just perfect! (I am being facetious, I hope you know... I cannot tell you how out of my league I was... oh, bless me!).


When we arrived in Atlanta at the hotel (I cannot remember the name of it, but it was downtown near the Fox) and began to unload and go up to the room, we noticed the other contestants in the lobby and in the hallways. That's when we realized my hair was not big enough, my makeup was not nearly dramatic enough, my clothes were not tight or flashy enough, and I was not..... ready for the ass whooping that was coming. In fact, it was so obvious that my Mama told me to get dressed for the first competition and we promptly went down and ALL had a drink in the hotel bar. It was hilarious.


Oh, those women (and I say "women" because they were coached from birth to compete for these titles and had coaches and "professional" pageant dresses and sportswear and interview wear and so forth... I had some cute things from Talbots and the Peachtree House in Louisville with some button covers for some added sparkle... not enough!). I thought my banana clip in my long brown curly tresses and some eyeliner and red lipstick would be dramatic enough. Hahahahahah.... No! I needed a different style for each outfit and I needed eyes that "popped" and some "glitter in the eyeshadow" and heavy liner and shading for contour.... What in the hell? And my poor conservative blue evening dress. These girls were in full liquid sequins with slits up to here and plunging necklines down to there.... and they just looked at me and rolled their eyes....


Mama and Becky sat in the back and clapped and cheered for me, but I knew it was just the Whiskey Sours talking. Or maybe by then it was the White Russians.... at that point, they may have been doing shots or playing drinking games. It didn't matter to me; I was just thankful to have them.

I did have enough pride to go back for the crowing ~ I may have been Jefferson County's "Default Queen," but I was representing them at the State Southern Sweetheart Pageant (I guess I can say I have competed on the state level.... just like I have plans to one day go to a Rockettes audition... I know I won't make it past the first round, but at least I can say I did audition for the Rockettes. See, it's all in how you present things... Spin, baby!). But I learned a very valuable lesson from it all.... when my Mama says, "I don't know about all this pageant business," I should listen to her. 'Cause "business" when my Mama says it regarding anything ("this marriage business," "this tattoo business," "this snake business," "this burning the front yard business") means she thinks whatever I'm talking about is a "not very good" idea. In other words, something she doesn't think very highly of, not in the least bit, young lady.

Ah, the lessons I have learned. And you know what... I don't even have that crown anymore. It got crushed in my hope chest and I threw it out several years ago. Me, the first loser to the big girls....

4 comments:

William said...

Brilliant! I just assume you're already at work on your memoirs, as you should be. I wish I could have sat in the back of that room with Miss Stephanie, Becky, and the whiskey sours ... what a great mix!

CallMeB said...

I have plans to write them one day.. and they will be entitled DAYUM ~ A Southern Girl's Manifesto (hee hee)... or something like that... I really need to make myself write every day and put my stories on this blog. That would help me get these memoirs written. Then I could compile them.

And when are we working on our tribute work to Ida? We really need to do "'Scuse me, Honey ~ That Sawed Off Son of a Bitch Made Me Hide My Liquor in the Piano Bench" or "Combing Your Hair with a Fork, Always Wearing Your Rubbers, and Other Important Life Lessons from a Renfroe-Grizzard."

We must get together soon! Kisses!

E3 IT said...

Well, I'm speechless. It's me Margaret, Queen of the Big Girls, which is a great title for my book. Even at 145 I had on Control Top panty hose an no underwear. Judy Jones could put that new Cyrus character on TLC out of "business." She had Emily and I teasing our hair with a barber's comb by the third grade. I remember you breaking the first rule of beauty pageants. NEVER, EVER WIN MISS FREAKING CONGENIALITY. It's the kiss of death. If you want to be nice you can go sing Christmas Carols to those two retarted twins who don't wear any panties down at Old Capital Inn during the holidays. Now I'm hooked on yo blog. QBG

Posey Lynn Poole said...

Hey, are those 2 retarded twins still alive?

Dayum, B, you so funny. Why am I so dark and pissed off? Your writing makes me want to take my head out of the gas oven.

Thank you!