There She Is . . .
A friend recently sent me a video of this weirdly crazy child from the trainwreck TV show Toddlers and Tiaras. For the unintiated, this show is about (what else) toddlers who are making their way through the beauty pageant circuit. I've never actually seen the show, but based on snippets from news stories and viral videos, the nearest I can tell is that these little kids are dressed up like washed up 35-year-old divorcees on a two-for-one whiskey sour night at the local watering hole or Dolly Parton (I can't really tell which), and set on stage to perform karoake to "Stand By Your Man" or some such. Evidence below:
They're just little kids, right? They can't help it, right? But their mothers (and in few cases, fathers) can, right? First of all, these parents have named their children things like Eden, Kylie, Kayleigh, Ayzia, and Kinnadie, and "encourage" them to compete in pageants such as "America's Trezured Dollz" (it's real, I swear, Google it). Apparently nobody can spell quite right and an extra "z," "y," or "eigh" is to be desired -- bonus points if you change any other letter to a "k". While little Payriz is on stage doing her "beauty," momma is in the audience giving her cues. And by cues, I mean she's full-on doing the dance moves and acting out the entire routine (often while yelling something along the lines of "Git it girl!") for her babygirl who has been hairsprayed, spraytanned, false-teethed, and lipsticked within an inch of her life.
It's easy to laugh at the spectacle and be appalled by the behavior of the mothers, but it scares me most because I could totally see myself standing in the back of the room, hopped up on RedBull acting out a Lady Gaga number in my a-little-too-tight Juicy Couture velour track suit with the faux fur collar and permanently surprised face, while I cheer on my "dazzling babygirl." I mean, who doesn't want their babygirl to nail her beauty? Who doesn't want their babygirl to sparkle in her Vegas-wear? I can feel my adrenaline surging just thinking about it. Sadly, WH and I don't have any kids, but I promise not to get spraytan in its eyes and I will always yell "Git it girl!" louder than anyone else, if you just let me borrow her for the afternoon.
They're just little kids, right? They can't help it, right? But their mothers (and in few cases, fathers) can, right? First of all, these parents have named their children things like Eden, Kylie, Kayleigh, Ayzia, and Kinnadie, and "encourage" them to compete in pageants such as "America's Trezured Dollz" (it's real, I swear, Google it). Apparently nobody can spell quite right and an extra "z," "y," or "eigh" is to be desired -- bonus points if you change any other letter to a "k". While little Payriz is on stage doing her "beauty," momma is in the audience giving her cues. And by cues, I mean she's full-on doing the dance moves and acting out the entire routine (often while yelling something along the lines of "Git it girl!") for her babygirl who has been hairsprayed, spraytanned, false-teethed, and lipsticked within an inch of her life.
It's easy to laugh at the spectacle and be appalled by the behavior of the mothers, but it scares me most because I could totally see myself standing in the back of the room, hopped up on RedBull acting out a Lady Gaga number in my a-little-too-tight Juicy Couture velour track suit with the faux fur collar and permanently surprised face, while I cheer on my "dazzling babygirl." I mean, who doesn't want their babygirl to nail her beauty? Who doesn't want their babygirl to sparkle in her Vegas-wear? I can feel my adrenaline surging just thinking about it. Sadly, WH and I don't have any kids, but I promise not to get spraytan in its eyes and I will always yell "Git it girl!" louder than anyone else, if you just let me borrow her for the afternoon.
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