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One of the other contributing editors here at BlogHer brought this issue to my attention last week. I warned her I was afraid to write on the subject, because my response would be vile. There was general agreement that the topic warrants some venom, so brace yourself if you wish to read on.
There’s no question our society is obsessed with appearance, and particularly, women’s sexuality. I’m not a huge fan of these obsessions, as I find that I can’t measure up to the standards and it’s exhausting and psychologically painful to try, but I figure if adults want to behave that way, that’s their bag, baby. It bothers me immeasurably when it happens to children. Particularly little girls.
I’m not completely innocent. I let my three-year-old little angel paint her toenails. I bought her toenail polish of the palest seashell pink when she started begging for “fancy feet,” but of course, she wanted my tangerine or dramatic red instead. I finally gave in, thinking there were a lot worse things I could be doing. I let her call her chapstick “lipstick.” I let her wear twirly dresses to daycare on a regular basis.
There’s a huge chasm, however, between wanting your child to delight in the tactile exuberance that is velour and wanting your child to look perfect for any reason. “Groomed” is something our children can and should strive for (even though that’s hard enough). “Done” is something entirely different. Which is why this is so disturbing.
There are a few things going on here.
1) The child looks humanoid.
2) The child was gorgeous to begin with.
3) This site is geared toward selling retouching services – which means there is a market for it.
4) The market is little girls’ beauty contests.
I think I just died a little inside even writing that.
I was joking with my friend Kim last night about which sports we think our children will like. Her son (also three) just took t-ball and was not a huge fan, due to the waiting part. He adores swimming. The little angel doesn’t like to get her head under the water, though we’re working on that, but I don’t think swimming will be her thing, either. She’s tried Twinkle Toes ballet, which I loved as a kid – I took dance for 12 years – and liked it. I’m almost afraid for her to like it, because as much as I loved dancing, I hated my body in those leotards and constantly compared myself to the other girls in my class. I’m sure you do this with any sport, but dancing is so focused on the body that it bothers me a little. Plus, in ballet, there’s a huge emphasis on looking like an eight-year-old boy for as long as possible, and the little angel has inherited my sturdy frame. I won’t discourage her from taking dance lessons if she wants to, but I’m not sure I want her to even peek inside dance, the potential entry drug to the world of pageantry.
I mean, LOOK AT IT!
Emma says this:
"I don’t think it’s any big news that Pageant Parents are a couple o’ sandwiches shy of a picnic. What else can you call it when you purposely dress your five-year-old up to resemble a Las Vegas showgirl?"
Platypus seems to have found the same picture:
"I note that of all the samples on the site, there's no boys. Our culture of body-hating among girls and women is rampant and so sad, and this sickens me to see these attitudes being implemented by parents before a little girl can count to 3. "
What do the pageant girls think when they’re all grown up? Here's a list of “how you know you’re a pageant girl.”
"YOU KNOW YOU ARE A PAGEANT GIRL WHEN...
*You can anwser in less than 1 minute what you plan to for the next 10 years of your life
*You have you own motto ormission statement that you think everyone
should live by*Your boyfriend knows the difference between your swimsuit and evening gown walk
*When the pageant is over you see no relevance in leaving your house for anything except ice cream
*You have ever sprayed your butt with Firm Grip... aka butt glue.
*You no longer have feeling in your little and big toes.
