girls that have to pretend they are something that they are not. embarassment. harassment. plastic. orange. evil moms. girls with no self respect. world peace. i want to win. where is my trophy. six thousand dollar dresses. make me feel better. i love tan.
My palm hovered over my mouth as I yawned, waiting for the awkward pageant to end. The children who were on the set did not seem to have properly memorized their lines, and they were old enough to not be cute for their mistakes.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror. Pulled down the dress just a little bit lower, but not too low. After all, she didn’t want to send the wrong message simply the just a little bit wrong message. How else to make an impression?
She wound her arms around his neck in a display of posession, glaring daggers at me over his unsuspecting shoulders. Not that I cared. Petty as a pageant girl, she pulled him tighter so his face was nearly smothered in her clevage, perfect pink lips pulled up in a superior smile. She thinks she has settled the matter. I’m not so sure. Clearly there must have been some reason she thought I was a threat to her precious little relationship in the first place.
I watched as they all lined up. One after the other. Like a line of perfectly sculpted dolls. Was I really one of them? I prepared to follow and there I was, blinking in the lights. There were so many people. This is where I wanted to be. Surely it wasn’t among the stars, but I was one step closer. The lights would do for now.
beauty pageants can be good and bad. good because it gives young girls something to do and look forward to. it lets them feel confident and proud and have goals. it can be bad because it can make young girls think that beauty is the only thing that matters.
It was glitz, it was glamour. It was the flashing of lights blocking the audience from view on a stage with tinsel.
It was like a drug. Addicting, the attention, the makeup, the smell of hairspray mingling with the inevitable must of backstage and the sound of girls crying.
I liked too much to hear my competitors cry.
The girl.
Shining in all her beauty
with all the light of a thousand suns
yet the careful poise
of a circus tight-rope walker.
Looks left and flips her hair.
World Peace.
Flowing gown;
trips.
I was 6 months old when I entered my first pageant. My mom thought I looked pretty. She thought it made me beautiful. When I lost my hair to cancer and she cried about my pageant days, I cried that she didn’t see the beauty inside of me.
I think are a good tool to use to give opportunities to those who can’t afford certain things. But toddlers in Tiaras is an ATROCITY and I wish that they wouldn’t take the innocence of children and put it on display for pedophiles.
girls pretty tiaras makeup fake glitter awards women men judges little girls tv show old women broken dreams broken hearts self confidence moms daughters pink eyelashes
Pageant girls. Never been one. Much curiosity. A little envy. Glamour. Sexuality. Beauty. Confidence. There seems to be a story behind them, though. What brought them to doing beauty pageants? Are they as happy as they seem? Who are they really?
Pageants. I think of those little girls from that one show. with the tiaras.. but then I start to think about that one guy and how I hope he’ll see something in these people that everthing works out and is all goof
I’ve never been in a pageant before. I wish I did. When I was little. When I was cute and it didn’t matter much what size you were. Do they still have pageants at this age? If I lose weight and get skinny, I bet I could enter!
ughh. this makes me uncomfortable, hot and sticky and a mess. the monotony drives me crazy. you drive me crazy. and it seems like every time your name is mentioned i get all twirly
It felt like a pageant walking into their view. Not sure whether I was to be judged and deemed unworthy of their company, or be gracefully accepted as before. It seems to be the last of the two, but I can’t help but feel like there’s part of the story that I’ve been missing all along.
The stage is filled with so many beautiful girls I don’t stand a chance. The judge walks up to the stage clears his throat and…doesn’t say my name at all for any award. I guess I’m just not pretty enough for this world.
There is nothing like today, mother says I have to stand tall and proud. Be the beautiful graceful being that I was meant to be, But I can’t not since I lost the baby, yesterday…
oh my the sci fi website strikes again with the pregnancy pageant and the parade of lovely perfect mothers and mothers to be flaunting their divine domesticity and feminine cunning to the less fortunate
The pageant was ruined. The floor was shining with puddles of water. Running mascara and screeching young teens were stomping their feet in anger. In the back a dark figure was retreating into the shadows as a smirk played across his mischievous face. He threw the match into the nearest puddle as it hissed into smoke.
How to pronounce this? Oh, I got it now. Princess-y little girls in dresses their mothers make them wear for money….and chick’s clawing each others faces out.
the pageant was an elegant ball room floor decorated with the effervescence of the era.
there stood high above the rest, contestant number one. with the grace that could befit
Pageant. A contest of beauty and wits. Males and femals, young and olf come together to find the best of themselves, and the worst of others. Pageants are a way to beat the others, if you can. If you will.
We dress ourselves and paint our canvases with mud and lies mixed with pastel. Pageantry and competition is for the animal world. For survival, not for the betterment of an already privileged life and mindless beauty.
little girls are put into pageants and dressed up like dolls. their innocence and child hood is just taken away. Why would a little kid need makeup and jewelry hair spray or heels? all this is too much stress for a child so small. im not gonna say i totally hate pageants but i dont love them…
fake. standing there looking as everyone else wants. alone you know what you want to be, but its not acceptable. prim and proper. be who you are, not who they want. be passionate, beautiful, ugly, perfect in your imperfections.
A pageant is beautiful. A sickening beauty, but a beauty none the less. It’s just there, for all to see and behold, but not to be enjoyed. It’s horror at its finest.
Tell me I won, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, tell me I won. I can see the glitter, I can see the lights, but I can’t hear anything. Is she celebrating? Why is everything so slow? She is smiling. But not as big as I am.
“Beauty pageant?” The brunette eyed her friend with a mixture of wariness and confusion. “And you want me to join you because…?”
“Because I don’t wanna enter by mesel!”
“You do not want to enter by yourself.” She frowned. “Myself.” She corrected, quickly. “You know, you could always play that as a charming angle, if you’d just get the rest of your-”
“Okay, fine. I dinna want to.” The blonde pouted. “But it looks like fun.”
“Fun?” Her friend sputtered.
The blonde smirked. “They have fire-throwing for one of the categories.”
At once, the smirk was mirrored. “I see. So you’re entering as your own kind, a firecaller?”
“Naturally.”
“Count me in. This is one beauty pageant I’d never miss!”
I honestly don’t see the point. If it’s scholarship money – you can get that by your academics and talent. Plus most of these girls are already in school, so they’ve already got scholarship money or loans (I guess). But what good is it doing for this earth to claim someone is prettier than 40 other pretty people? And I’ve been in a couple pageants – so maybe it’s hypercritical. But if you love to perform, take acting, singing, or dance lessons.
Beauty queen
Barbie doll
She tramples hearts with her sweet looks
Her cherry lips
Her sanguine cheeks
Always smiling with those pearly whites
Captivating, charming
Until she bares her fangs
Girls in Texas are very good at them. I kind of wish my mother would have put me in one of them so that I would have good posture and know how to put on makeup. I get really scared when I see the pageant show on TV though. But is does make me wonder…those girls seem so confident.
girls that have to pretend they are something that they are not. embarassment. harassment. plastic. orange. evil moms. girls with no self respect. world peace. i want to win. where is my trophy. six thousand dollar dresses. make me feel better. i love tan.
My palm hovered over my mouth as I yawned, waiting for the awkward pageant to end. The children who were on the set did not seem to have properly memorized their lines, and they were old enough to not be cute for their mistakes.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror. Pulled down the dress just a little bit lower, but not too low. After all, she didn’t want to send the wrong message simply the just a little bit wrong message. How else to make an impression?
She wound her arms around his neck in a display of posession, glaring daggers at me over his unsuspecting shoulders. Not that I cared. Petty as a pageant girl, she pulled him tighter so his face was nearly smothered in her clevage, perfect pink lips pulled up in a superior smile. She thinks she has settled the matter. I’m not so sure. Clearly there must have been some reason she thought I was a threat to her precious little relationship in the first place.
I watched as they all lined up. One after the other. Like a line of perfectly sculpted dolls. Was I really one of them? I prepared to follow and there I was, blinking in the lights. There were so many people. This is where I wanted to be. Surely it wasn’t among the stars, but I was one step closer. The lights would do for now.
The sentiment was unappreciated. “May the best girl win” ha! Like there’s any competition
beauty and girls and how girls are being judged. Pretty girls always win it. Saved by the bell is in it.
Something pretty people do. It’s terrible. Toddlers and Tiaras. Girls and little girls are forced to do. Too much.
The bows and ribbons lay scattered on the floor. Forgotten in the rush of defeat. Tears hit her face even though she tried to hide them
beauty pageants can be good and bad. good because it gives young girls something to do and look forward to. it lets them feel confident and proud and have goals. it can be bad because it can make young girls think that beauty is the only thing that matters.
It was glitz, it was glamour. It was the flashing of lights blocking the audience from view on a stage with tinsel.
It was like a drug. Addicting, the attention, the makeup, the smell of hairspray mingling with the inevitable must of backstage and the sound of girls crying.
I liked too much to hear my competitors cry.
The girl.
Shining in all her beauty
with all the light of a thousand suns
yet the careful poise
of a circus tight-rope walker.
Looks left and flips her hair.
World Peace.
Flowing gown;
trips.
I was 6 months old when I entered my first pageant. My mom thought I looked pretty. She thought it made me beautiful. When I lost my hair to cancer and she cried about my pageant days, I cried that she didn’t see the beauty inside of me.
I think are a good tool to use to give opportunities to those who can’t afford certain things. But toddlers in Tiaras is an ATROCITY and I wish that they wouldn’t take the innocence of children and put it on display for pedophiles.
glitter crowns are not made of gold but solid metal and rhinestone. They never tarnish never turn. hope for tomorrow and cash in on today.
girls pretty tiaras makeup fake glitter awards women men judges little girls tv show old women broken dreams broken hearts self confidence moms daughters pink eyelashes
Pageat queens bother me. All blonde and fake. Their laugh is off, like they are some sort of plastic being.
Pageant girls. Never been one. Much curiosity. A little envy. Glamour. Sexuality. Beauty. Confidence. There seems to be a story behind them, though. What brought them to doing beauty pageants? Are they as happy as they seem? Who are they really?
Pageants. I think of those little girls from that one show. with the tiaras.. but then I start to think about that one guy and how I hope he’ll see something in these people that everthing works out and is all goof
I’ve never been in a pageant before. I wish I did. When I was little. When I was cute and it didn’t matter much what size you were. Do they still have pageants at this age? If I lose weight and get skinny, I bet I could enter!
ughh. this makes me uncomfortable, hot and sticky and a mess. the monotony drives me crazy. you drive me crazy. and it seems like every time your name is mentioned i get all twirly
It felt like a pageant walking into their view. Not sure whether I was to be judged and deemed unworthy of their company, or be gracefully accepted as before. It seems to be the last of the two, but I can’t help but feel like there’s part of the story that I’ve been missing all along.
The stage is filled with so many beautiful girls I don’t stand a chance. The judge walks up to the stage clears his throat and…doesn’t say my name at all for any award. I guess I’m just not pretty enough for this world.
There is nothing like today, mother says I have to stand tall and proud. Be the beautiful graceful being that I was meant to be, But I can’t not since I lost the baby, yesterday…
oh my the sci fi website strikes again with the pregnancy pageant and the parade of lovely perfect mothers and mothers to be flaunting their divine domesticity and feminine cunning to the less fortunate
beauty
contestant
competition
trophy
prizes
girls
pretty
The pageant was ruined. The floor was shining with puddles of water. Running mascara and screeching young teens were stomping their feet in anger. In the back a dark figure was retreating into the shadows as a smirk played across his mischievous face. He threw the match into the nearest puddle as it hissed into smoke.
How to pronounce this? Oh, I got it now. Princess-y little girls in dresses their mothers make them wear for money….and chick’s clawing each others faces out.
the pageant was an elegant ball room floor decorated with the effervescence of the era.
there stood high above the rest, contestant number one. with the grace that could befit
Pageant. A contest of beauty and wits. Males and femals, young and olf come together to find the best of themselves, and the worst of others. Pageants are a way to beat the others, if you can. If you will.
We dress ourselves and paint our canvases with mud and lies mixed with pastel. Pageantry and competition is for the animal world. For survival, not for the betterment of an already privileged life and mindless beauty.
beauty, young girls, miss america, the south, dancing, talent, smile, winning, swimwear, confidence, blonde
little girls are put into pageants and dressed up like dolls. their innocence and child hood is just taken away. Why would a little kid need makeup and jewelry hair spray or heels? all this is too much stress for a child so small. im not gonna say i totally hate pageants but i dont love them…
fake. standing there looking as everyone else wants. alone you know what you want to be, but its not acceptable. prim and proper. be who you are, not who they want. be passionate, beautiful, ugly, perfect in your imperfections.
A pageant is beautiful. A sickening beauty, but a beauty none the less. It’s just there, for all to see and behold, but not to be enjoyed. It’s horror at its finest.
Tell me I won, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, tell me I won. I can see the glitter, I can see the lights, but I can’t hear anything. Is she celebrating? Why is everything so slow? She is smiling. But not as big as I am.
“Beauty pageant?” The brunette eyed her friend with a mixture of wariness and confusion. “And you want me to join you because…?”
“Because I don’t wanna enter by mesel!”
“You do not want to enter by yourself.” She frowned. “Myself.” She corrected, quickly. “You know, you could always play that as a charming angle, if you’d just get the rest of your-”
“Okay, fine. I dinna want to.” The blonde pouted. “But it looks like fun.”
“Fun?” Her friend sputtered.
The blonde smirked. “They have fire-throwing for one of the categories.”
At once, the smirk was mirrored. “I see. So you’re entering as your own kind, a firecaller?”
“Naturally.”
“Count me in. This is one beauty pageant I’d never miss!”
I honestly don’t see the point. If it’s scholarship money – you can get that by your academics and talent. Plus most of these girls are already in school, so they’ve already got scholarship money or loans (I guess). But what good is it doing for this earth to claim someone is prettier than 40 other pretty people? And I’ve been in a couple pageants – so maybe it’s hypercritical. But if you love to perform, take acting, singing, or dance lessons.
Beauty queen
Barbie doll
She tramples hearts with her sweet looks
Her cherry lips
Her sanguine cheeks
Always smiling with those pearly whites
Captivating, charming
Until she bares her fangs
Girls in Texas are very good at them. I kind of wish my mother would have put me in one of them so that I would have good posture and know how to put on makeup. I get really scared when I see the pageant show on TV though. But is does make me wonder…those girls seem so confident.