So I was at the Miss WV pageant orientation this weekend with my daughter, who will be competing as Miss Potomac Highlands in July. Little old me, an aging flower child, in a room full of serious women who have been chairing various pageant committees for 20+ years buzzing around about "their girls" and "Is anybody here a notary? I've got to get these forms notarized!" And then there are the girls, who range in age from 13 to 24 who are competing in the Miss West Virginia's Oustanding Teen and Miss West Virginia contests. Some wear their beauty self-consciously and others wear it as though it were their God-given entitlement. I recede into my iPad to think and reflect on my feelings.What drives a pageant competitor? Do they seriously believe that they are more beautiful and talented than anybody else and they need to prove it? Is it because they have an issue that they are passionate about, and they see this as a way to get it out there? Does it give a girl a reason to go out and buy countless beauty products and treatments, a few expensive gowns and bathing suits? Or maybe it gives her a chance to avoid anything resembling school or work. I suppose it might be a little of all of these for Willa. She has always admired beauty, and spends hours online looking at clothes and makeup videos. While she is mostly keeping up with her schoolwork, she also sees it as a distraction from her important pageant preparation. She is engrossed in her platform (Get Fit, West Virginia), and she is gifted with an amazing voice, poise, beauty, and she's smart. But I think some of the motivation also stems from a need for redemption of a not-so-fun time up until now, starting with getting thrown under the bus by her friends in middle school. Is this a chance for her to say "Look at me, I could be Miss America"? If that's it, I say, "Right on, girl, you go show them what you've got!" Because haven't we all been there? How many of us have been motivated by what the naysayers said we couldn't do?
(I tried to get her to sing "Pissing in a River" by Patti Smith for her talent, but she won't. You can't win 'em all.)
While I'm figuring out what turns a perfectly normal, albeit, hormonal young woman into a teased-out, tiara-topped, sequin-blasted Barbie wannabe, I have spent significant time pondering my own mostly ambivalent reactions to it. It partly stems from all those years watching Miss America with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek. But it's also personal. Here I am at 57, and, over the past few years realizing that I'm not in my 40's anymore. My 40's I think were my very best, very most beautiful, years. I was totally confident in my appearance. I worked out all the time, and took good care of myself. Now my hair is thinning, my skin feels tight all the time, and there is wrinkling and sagging. It doesn't really bother me all that much normally. I'm still in pretty good shape, I work out: weightlifting, Zumba, and bellydance! I guess it could be worse. (Really? There is a salon somewhere that still does perms?! And I will never ever ever wear "mom" jeans or pastel capris. Just shoot me!) Being around Willa as she gets deeper into this whole thing contrasts sharply with the changes I'm noticing in myself. She's getting older and more beautiful; I'm getting older and less beautiful. It sounds like the fairytale of the jealous, evil stepmother, but it's not that at all. The physical of being leads me to musings about age, and time, in general. (and here is where my imaginary character that compulsively quotes Patti Smith chimes in: "This maze of being.... skin")
When I had Phoebe, I was 21. She's now 36. However, look at how old I'll be when Willa is 36.... I'll be 75! This fact just astounds me. How can this be? Especially when it seems like just yesterday that I was the 36 year old? Time passing by too quickly is no longer just a cliche. When I left the house yesterday morning, the cherry trees in my driveway were nowhere near blooming. When I drove back up the driveway later that day, there they were, in full bloom. Something is happening here, people! Be still about your global warming, Time is passing way too quickly!
Too many things have happened this year for me to fathom, making me even more aware of time passing quickly. My ex-husband, the father of my oldest daughter, died suddenly. One daughter is packing up to start a new life as a single girl after being in a relationship for 15 years, as my younger daughter is soon to be packing up to go to college. My husband, my young husband (!) is turning 50! Even my darling puppy Max, about to turn 10, is finally starting to look old. How can I stop this? I’m reminded of the line in “This is 40” where the classroom granny is telling the mom character not to blink, because if she does, she’ll all of a sudden be 90. I believe it! This is me, not blinking.



