meat for meditation
January 6, 2012
(condensed version below, full text available
here)
I’ve decided that I would like to be the next Miss America.
I am not kidding. I think I’d be great. Yes, I’m too old. I have no discernable talent. I am not perky, dedicated to public service, or particularly graceful. But I still think this could work. My current beef with the pageant is that the promoters insist that it’s not beauty pageant; it’s a “scholarship” pageant. Who are they trying to kid? If it were truly a “scholarship” pageant, the contestants wouldn’t be uniformly beautiful. They’d look like the occupants of the campus library on a Friday night. For me to win, though, there would have to be some serious revamping. There’d be no bathing suits, no helmet hair, and no plasticized smiles. It would have to become a true representation of the “average” woman in the U.S. today. Some would argue that it should not represent the norm; it should celebrate the “ideal” woman. I say that if they want to keep this thing afloat, they need to stir the pot a bit. They need, in a word, me. Here I am. Miss Unusual America.
Doing a little digging, I found that back in the day, the pageant was originally seen as a symbol of the U.S., with Miss America often being referred to as the “female equivalent” of the President. I think they should bring this concept back. Because I’m telling you, I think the presidency could be a two-person job. For example, the President could send me, as Miss America, in to deal with the Congress, with all the bickering, petty politics, and selfishness. I’m a middle school teacher – I can handle that sort of behavior. Set expectations with the senators and representatives. Let them know what the rules and guideline are. And make sure they know that there will be consequences for bad behavior.
“Senator, you shot down the bill to help extend veteran’s benefits. Is this appropriate behavior for the government?”
“But he started it!”
“Senator, stop poking the gentleman from Massachusetts.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Precisely. You will be given a 20 minute detention after today’s session and will lose several points in your next polling.”
“Aww, man…”
Consistency is key, with republicans, democrats, and seventh graders.
I think dealing with this sort of thing would also free up the actual elected president for other issues, like the economy, budgets, and nasty leaders of other countries. Let me take the light stuff – I’ll pardon the turkey, no problem. And if the Real President needs me to make an appearance in France and perhaps dine in fine restaurants, I’m on it.
As for the nuts and bolts of the competition, there are a few areas in which Miss America must be judged in order to win the crown. The first is a personal interview, where the candidate must be well spoken, articulate, polite and confident. Not surprisingly, this part is not televised. Too bad, because I think this could be my strongest area:
...
Host (beginning to sweat): What are your personal goals?
Pageant Me: I would someday like to pull off wearing skinny jeans and a beret. I would like to invent a chocolate cake that does not induce feelings of guilt and an immediate increase in fat cells. I would like to convince the USDA to classify wine as a fruit. I hope to convince the world and myself that wearing pajamas all day is cool and not, as my friend Sophie classifies it, “sadthetic.” And, most of all, I’d like to persuade Nathan Fillion that those hot Hollywood starlets are passé and he really needs to date a middle-aged woman with bifocals, saddlebags, an overdeveloped sense of snark and a killer lasagna recipe. (Looks at host) I think the word you’re looking for is, “Anyway…”
Perfect 10s all around. Nailed it!
Next up is the talent competition, which for many years has played fast and loose with the word, “talent.” In the past, many contestants overplayed the piano or violin, while some juggled, did fast sketching, or even ventriloquism. There have been firewalkers, tractor drivers, and the ubiquitous baton twirlers. Some sang loudly with dramatic pageant arm gestures, garbled arias, or delivered a maudlin torch song with a huge smile, because, as my friend Nadine said, “Miss America is not allowed to be sad.” No more. Let’s bring this area into the real world, too. How about a Spelling Bee? Bargain Shopping? Expensive Footwear Justification? Those would be interesting. But what can I do? I can look at a photo of a man and with less than three bits of general information, tell you why he’s still single.
“Mama’s Boy.”
“Napoleon complex.”
“Overcompensation for…shortcomings.”
“Bad breath.”
“Orders for a woman in a restaurant.”
“Calls women ‘babes.’”
“Continuously tells women they’re overreacting.”
“Needy.”
“Handsy.”
“Thinks he’s an artiste.”
“Career goal is to be on The Jersey Shore.”
“Is on The Jersey Shore.”
I can hold a violin while doing this, if it makes the judges more comfortable.
The next part of the competition is where they walk across the stage in the bathing suit and high heels. This is where I might have to take a pass. I won’t wear a suit in sunlight, much less a spotlight. And it’s not just an embarrassment issue; it’s really a logic issue. I mean, who wears a bikini (oh yeah, they can wear two-pieces now) and high heels? Since the main arena for bathing suit wearing is generally near water and not in an actual arena, it’s really a matter of safety. You could slip and twist an ankle. See? I’m looking out for my fellow Misses. Doesn’t that show depth and logical thinking? Now, if it’s a real problem, I’ll the don the suit, but I’ll wear it like most women my age wear it: with a knee-length t-shirt over it. Or with a sarong that starts under the armpits, reaches the knees, and is made of something that won’t stain if you get margaritas or pop-tarts on it.
On to evening wear. Now, my typical eveningwear is flannel pants and a “Mystic Warlords of Ka’a” t-shirt, so I’m thinking I might have to take it up a notch. Contestants in my new version of the pageant would be judged on poise, confidence, and who complains the least about how their double-Spanx was cutting into their waistline. I walk best in high heels if I’m carrying a cocktail and a plate of mini-quiche, so I’d see if I could work that in somehow. To make it more relevant, they could also judge on things real people generally do while wearing evening garb. We don’t just sashay, pivot, smile, sashay. We make small talk. We pretend to be glad to see someone. We eat cocktail franks. We sit through boring speeches. We fake smiles. We politely excuse ourselves to the ladies’ room to tug at our strapless bras. The pageant could tie this part in with the “onstage question” they pose of all finalists, which is topical, completely random, and for which they have no prep time. I could handle this much better than the Miss Teen U.S.A. contestant from a few years back who couldn’t give a coherent answer to why one fifth of Americans can’t find the U.S. on a map. (Yes, I’m cutting her slack because she is a teenager, but this couldn’t have been her first time on the merry-go-round.) Her answer? “I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so…uhmmm…don't have maps … I, education like such as, uh, South Africa, and uh, the Iraq…our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh…help South Africa… help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for us.” (I’m not sure how South Africa fits into this, but maybe she thinks they can’t find America on a map, either.) I hope, at least, that she looked good in a swimsuit.
My answer?
“They’re idiots.”
Done.
I really think we can get the Miss America pageant to be popular again. It just needs to be relevant. Right now, saying Miss America represents women in this country is like saying reality television represents…reality. There’s a real disconnect. Miss America should be outstanding, but not so incredibly removed from the rest of us that she ceases to become real. These things that they’re currently judged on in the pageant are not really life skills. We want our Miss America to be a representation of the best in all women. And that does not involve walking across a stage in high heels and a bikini. That’s why I think I’d make a good Miss America (or, in my case, Ms. America, thank you). I’ve survived in the real world. I have life experience. I’ve burned pot roasts. And I’ve raised a glass of wine, both figuratively and literally, with some amazing, brilliant, kick-ass women who I feel privileged to call my friends.
Plus, I’d love any excuse to wear a tiara on a regular basis. And if I added a cape and some awesome boots to the ensemble, I’m pretty sure I could take over the world. Who’s with me?
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So how do you think we could update Miss America to make her a relevant ideal?
