It was 2:30 p.m. on Saturday afternoon when I asked the woman at the front desk where the judges were to meet for the National American Miss pageant. "My best advice is to walk upstairs and ask someone," she said.
OK, I thought as I took a deep breath and proceeded up the grand staircase, this can't be that hard. As I neared the top of the stairs I could hear a din of children's laughter and squeals of delight. That top step led me to a sea of pageant girls in all sizes. Six-year-olds scurried past in giant-yet-miniature ball gowns, pre-teens stood around chatting with one hip cocked and plenty of makeup, and worried-looking pageant moms fussed with obvious "talent outfits."
All of this was familiar to me, as a former pageant girl, but I wasn't there to compete (thank goodness), I was there to judge.
The experience sounded like a blast when the organization approached the Indianapolis Fashion Collective last winter asking for judge volunteers. I mean, who wouldn't want to watch adolescent girls parade across the stage wearing outrageously glittery (not to mention age-inappropriate) gowns and then assign them a number corresponding to their level of grace and charm? Wait...when I put it like that it sounds kind of...wrong. But at the time it sounded like fun, and that was before I knew I'd be trapped in the Stepford-like world of pageantry for 16 HOURS.
I'll bet you don't want to hear about all 16 of those hours and I don't blame you, so here I bring you the highlights:
-While I (and a friend) agreed to this commitment months ago, we only found out fairly recently (beyond the point when we felt comfortable with ditching) that we'd be spending our entire weekend sequestered within the walls of the downtown Marriott. Not cool.
-The saccharine attitude of the staff is almost inhuman, in that from the hours of 9 a.m. to midnight, all staffers proudly wearing a NAM badge maintain an air of elevated bliss I rarely achieve during my best moods. Every joke is funny, every comment is cheery.
-the NAM program encourages ALL GIRLS to enter the pageant/corporation and emphasizes they do not care what the girls look like. However, there certainly weren't any finalists with bad complexions or crooked teeth or a weight problems. Let's just call a spade a spade, shall we? We all know what a pageant queen generally looks like.
-As a seemingly endless stream of 15 to18-year-old contestants sat before me so I could ask them an "interview question," I noticed there are three types of contestants: The type who genuinely wants to win the crown and is a lovely young lady inside and out, the type who's been coached within an inch of her life and couldn't produce an original answer if her life depended on it and the type who's been forced to enter this pageant because her parents think she needs more self confidence but the horror is painted all over her face. A lesson to the parents of the later type: it's not working.
-While myself and aforementioned friend were rookies at this whole pageant judging thing, there were others who practically make a living at it, and they are exceptionally interesting. One judge passed around photos of contestants from around the world who he'd coached and told us all about what they're up to now and which pageant they are likely to win next. Another dished on behind-the-scenes drama she'd experienced in the past. (think sabotage, cheating, fighting.)
-We as judges were in no way compensated for our 16 hours other than with cold food and a raspberry-colored pen; something we were told is especially coveted by those involved with NAM. Oh, and how could I forget the glittery "judge" pin?
It's a completely separate world, folks. I could go on and on.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the experience, after all I was happy for the opportunity to sit on the other side of something in which I used to participate. However, I will never get those16 hours of my holiday weekend back and I have to sleep knowing I played a hand in crushing the hearts of more than 100 NAM Miss Indiana hopefuls. I'm truly sorry, ladies.
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