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I love pretty dresses I went to prom like nine times when I was in high school. At the time, though, it just felt like something fun to do. Looking back, doing the pageant was a self-esteem thing - I wanted so badly to be pretty and perfect that if I won, then that would confirm my perfect figure, perfect weight. All I remember that summer was eating tomatoes. I got a brochure in the mail and was like, Oh, this looks like fun. Petersburg, FloridaĪmerican Coed Pageants, 1998, age 14: Miss Teen Photogenic, Best Personality. (Of course, this may be informed by the fact that I placed.) But was I the norm or the anomaly? To find out, I interviewed adult alumnae of child pageants about how they feel about it in retrospect - and reconsidered my own experience.ġ. And no feminist is more agog than I am to report that my pageant experience was generally positive. I arrive at this question a little defensively because I am myself the alumna of one child pageant: I placed second runner-up in Miss Preteen Minneapolis 1996. It’s the same way I feel when I watch Toddlers and Tiaras, where hyperprojecting mothers bitch-slap sequins onto eager-to-please daughters, inviting the viewer to wonder, What train wreck of adulthood lies ahead for America’s Honey Boo Boos? After fifteen minutes of Go Go Juice and pageant tantrums, I had to turn it off - not because I disapproved of the Thompson-Shannon family, but because I resented that the show wanted me to disapprove of them. I should be honest: I couldn’t watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.
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