Toddlers, teens, tiaras and tantrums - Part two

Pageant day dawned and I was relieved not to have a hangover - thank god I didn't open the bottle of red wine in the mini bar after polishing off the champagne! I was feasting on my room service breakfast when my sister-in-law and niece arrived and greeted them warmly with bacon and egg breath. The Divine Miss Em already looked stunning, in a dress that I apparently paid for compliments of some birthday cash, though it wasn't one of the three outfits to later grace the Pageant stage.

The beautifully divine Miss Em

Her hair was mostly done and her mother set about doing her makeup while I continued to munch my way through my bacon and eggs. I'd already had a bit of a run-down on the day's program. The three categories were: beauty, which involved wearing something pretty and sparkly. For the toddlers this usually reflects the short sequinned cutesy outfits which typify pageants. As the girls get older the dresses get longer and a bit less sparkly. The hair is always well-coiffed and hairpieces are often added to provide extra pizazz. Or something.


Given the outbook theme, the second outfit was 'western' in nature. I found it interesting that all of the costumes very much reflected the US cowboy scene, with no akubras, drizabones or wifebeater singlets in sight. Whereas in the beauty segment the girls walk in a poised manner across the stage, the other sections seem to allow a bit of personality to seep through with all contestants preparing routines to music. And - thank god my niece was a bit inventive and went for Will Smith's Wild Wild West - cos if I'd had to listen to Cotton Eye Joe or Boot Scootin' Baby one more time I may have had to asphyxiate myself with hairspray fumes.


Finally there was the outfit of choice. My niece had gone with a dress worn by her grandmother 50yrs ago, boofy hair and a song from Hairspray. I mentioned before that she can dance. Well, it serves her well in pageants and she got a big cheer after that performance in particular.


I was expecting it to be a bit more like TV's Toddlers & Tiaras, but perhaps US pageants aren't like that either. I know it may shock you, but possibly, just possibly, the reality TV show is a bit less 'real' than it espouses to be. Just possibly.


Like the US show though, the event was held in a room at a hotel, with a tiny stage up the front and rows of chairs behind the judges. The organiser hails from the US (or possibly Canada - I mean, who can tell?) though wasn't quite as OTT as some of the organisers and emcees I've seen on television. What surprised me most were the low numbers. There were only 13 competitors across the four age groups. The organiser though, is slightly between a rock and a hard place. With pageants having SUCH a bad name here at the moment, it's not a case of 'any publicity being good publicity' so promotion is minimal.


But I wasn't disappointed. There were toddlers. Four littlies competed in the 0 - 3 year age group. Despite their lack of professionalism (hmph, amateurs!) they were almost the most entertaining. One little one refused to leave the stage. Another performed like a trooper and was particularly expert in blowing kisses. One was a baby who slept through one of the sections (the mother carrying her on stage....) and the final girl was the spitting image of the US pageant-Queen Eden Wood.


There were tears. Of course. Though not because of anything pageant-related. One of the littlest ones just screamed and cried a lot. Bizarrely she won a lot of prizes in her age-group. Perhaps it was a case of 'the squeaky wheel'....


Before we arrived I asked my niece if I had to 'woo-hoo' cos I'm not much of a 'woo-hooer'! But I'd seen that on television. The chubby mothers or fathers who cheer and 'woo-hoo' their kids. I think the Divine Miss Em merely rolled her eyes at me. I also kidded that I would leap about behind the judges demonstrating what she should be doing and pointing to my mouth as a reminder to smile. That drew another look of derision. Possibly because she holds dozens of dances in her head at any one time and doesn't need prompts. Or possibly because I can't actually dance.


Some of the mothers did prance about though, reminding their daughters of their routines. I have to admit that's the only time I cringed a little.... some of the mothers being a bit overly engaged in the whole thing. Who are they doing this for again?





My niece was stellar. Absolutely beautiful and her choreographed routines were great. She's a good little actress so played her characters with exaggerated ease. The judging was a bit of a surprise, though of course it must be SO subjective and I MAY be biased. Just maybe. The Devine Miss Em narrowly missed out (by only 4 points we believe) on another Grand Supreme title, instead winning Miss Teen Queen. She was a bit disappointed, but stoically talked about looking at her performances and what she should do differently in future.


Pageants have had a lot press here recently. Frankly I think anything that involves too many women is prone to bitchiness. Netball used to be the same. But yesterday I didn't see fake tans or toddlers dressed inappropriately. The mothers had all done their daughters' makeup and hair and none looked like they were heading for trouble. And everyone won SOMETHING. In fact, I've never seen so many tiaras and sashes in my life.


The whole thing was over by lunchtime and with a sigh of relief the mothers and families packed up their gear to get back to their lives. My niece and sister-in-law were remaining in town for ballet eisteddfods, but I had a finale party to attend for my weight loss program. Attending the pageant had meant I'd skipped a group training session (though as about 800 were there I suspect I wasn't missed), but I was super excited about meeting participants on my program from across the country. I'd been communicating with many of them via Facebook, Twitter and program Forums for the entire 12 week round and keen to see them face-to-face.


So I began the trip back to my hometown.


I bet you've been wondering about the tantrums. Yes? Sadly it wasn't a two or three year old toddler throwing tantrums, but rather a 43 year old woman. Me. Yes me! I'd already had a meltdown about the hotel room on Friday night and proceded to have two more during the three and a half hour logistical nightmare it took me to travel the 100km home.


I decided to catch a bus to the train station so waited for about 20 minutes at a bus stop near my hotel. I was about to give up and get a taxi when the bus arrived. Having paid my fare I settled back looking forward to getting onto the train and heading home. But then in response to my query the driver explained that the bus I was on takes a roundabout route to the train station and it would take about an hour to travel the few kilometres. WTF?


So I alighted to catch a taxi instead. Trains departed half-hourly and I had 20 minutes until the next one. Finally a taxi arrived and the driver told me we'd EASILY make it to the train in 15 minutes. About 20 minutes and $40 later we arrived at the train station just as the train was leaving. FUCK! Not only had I wasted the money on the taxi, but now I had to sit at a cold windy train station for 30 minutes until the next train. I was furious. I called my mother.... as you do when you are in a foul mood. And if you are me. Between sobs I told her that I was now going to be much later getting back to my place and wouldn't have enough time to prepare for the finale party that night. She attempted to calm me down - which almost worked, though I suspect it was the idea of railway station staff seeing a grown woman cry which did the trick. "I'm not going to the finale party," I told my mother. She - as mothers do - told me not to be silly and reminded me I'd regret not going. "It's all just too much," I sooked to her. It sounds ridiculous even to me. And.... sure I knew that it wasn't really the 30 minute delay which worried me. It was just EVERYTHING. Not knowing what to do about my place and the stress of the past few weeks. I just felt incredibly overwhelmed.

Finally I got on the train and we were on our way. I knew it was an hour trip and was relieved that I'd make a connecting train and be home a couple of hours before I had to dress and go out again. Except... there was a delay. So I missed the connecting train. Just. Again I was going to have another 30 minute wait. But this time I was closer to home, so I decided I'd go and catch a taxi. With my new taxi company iPhone App I searched for the nearest taxi rank. Bloody useless piece of shit! It suggested that the nearest rank (in my capital city) was in another town hundreds of kilometres away. WTF?! Again! So I started walking assuming I'd hail a cab. Taxi after taxi (some empty, some carrying passengers) passed me and NOT ONE stopped. I lugged my bags for over 20 minutes before contemplating whether I could return to the train station to get the train I initially decided not to wait for. Feeling a tad overwhelmed yet again I ended up standing on this busy road with tears running down my face. Shameful, I know. I had no idea where the nearest rank was and had no location to give a cab company if I called them. Just when I was about to throw myself down onto the bitumen pavement and sob, a driver stopped. I suspect my hysterical and effusive thanks scared the shit out of him. But... finally I was home.


Feeling even more exhausted than I thought possible, and not having eaten since breakfast, I realised I only had about an hour to bathe and prepare for pre-party drinks. So what did I do? I poured myself a glass of champagne and spent 30 of the 60 minutes in the bathtub wondering how the hell my day had gone from the blissful time with family that morning, to tears and tantrums about public transport. Of course the champagne - or the idea of champagne - made everything better, so I dressed, got in YET ANOTHER taxi and went to party with people I barely knew. And I had a ball!

Toddlers, teens, tiaras and tantrums - part one: the backstory

I don't usually post into my diet blog on weekends. You know... one shouldn't work on the Sabbath and all of that. Actually being cheerfully agnostic it's actually more cos I'm lazy and get tired of sitting at a computer on my fat butt more than I should.... but the first reason sounded better.


As it happens, today's post isn't in keeping with the usual theme of that blog, so I figured it's okay. Plus I'm a bit hungover so sitting in front of a computer feels better than moving in general. And... as the post wasn't diet-related and doesn't reveal anything terribly embarrassing about myself I figured I'd post it here as well.

Anyone wanna buy a townhouse?

I've had a pretty interesting week or two. The 12-week weight loss program I was on finished up with last chance exercise sessions, final weigh-ins and measuring. I'd started a 'learn to run' program so was trying to fit that into my working week. I had an interview for a promotion at work; and spent a long long weekend away visiting my parents. I returned this week to play catch-up at work and just in time to attend an auction to sell my house. Because I usually stress about the small stuff, I'd been very zen-like about the house thing. Naturally... because packing for my trip away and getting to the gym was WAY more important.


I'd been horrified to discover I had to attend the auction and (hopefully) watch people bidding on my pride and joy. The notion of being judged or my value measured was a tad daunting. My place was 9th out of 10 being auctioned on Friday morning so I sat patiently watching others mostly not-selling, daunted by the knowledge that only one person was registered to bid on my place. Of course, the bidder in question didn't match my reserve and my house was passed in. I wasn't overly shocked and was mostly okay, but got hammered by my Real Estate Agent and her boss after; double-teaming me to make sure I knew how insane I was; thinking I'd get the price I wanted and why I should just take what was on offer rather than holding out for more.


Cap in hand, I headed back to an important work meeting I'd had to sneak out of to partake in the humiliating-debacle-that-was-the-auction.


I made it through the day and then jumped directly on a train to commute to a nearby coastal town where I was overnighting. My niece was participating in a beauty pageant there and I was thrilled she asked if I wanted to go and watch. I don't travel much any more so the idea of my ocean-view room was appealing and I fantasised all day (including through the humiliating-debacle-that-was-the-auction) about sitting on my verandah imbibing in more champagne than sensible.... as the stress of the day and week slipped away.

My view. Ocean somewhere to the right. Apparently.

But... the 'ocean-view' room that I'd upgraded to was actually on the highway side of the hotel, rather than on the ocean-side. It was true (in daylight) I could see the ocean, but it wasn't what I'd expected (having paid an additional 40% for the aforementioned room). So, I felt deflated and may possibly have had a mini tantrum, spending the first few hours of the evening seething, grumbling and issuing grumpy tweets - until the room service champagne arrived (of course) and I started drinking the comforting elixir.


With nothing on TV and no appealing in-house movies I actually read an entire novel in the large spa-shaped bath as I knocked back my champagne.... interrupting my reverie only to partake in some room service dinner - which, incidentally was delicious.


The hotel I was staying in was hosting the outback-themed pageant so we'd arranged for my sister-in-law and niece to come to my room early the following morning which would be converted into a dressing room for my niece who required three changes of outfits for the competition.


It was to be her second pageant. I suspect it was because of the reputation pageants have (thanks to television show Toddlers & Tiaras and surrounding media) that she kept her participation in her first pageant a secret, only revealing it to a few friends and family after she'd competed. My niece, the Divine Miss Em dances a lot and I suspect that both her beauty and stage presence contribute to her success in pageant world, and she was crowned Grand Supreme in her first competition. For those who think I'm talking about pizza, the Grand Supreme is the highest award you can win and is given to the overall winner across all age groups.


And for those thinking that the Divine Miss Em is a 5yr old toddling about a stage in sequins, a fake tan and false teeth, she's actually (now) 15yrs old, whippet-smart and eminently sensible for a teenager. And her mother though not unsupportive of her desires, was happy for her to enter pageants, providing it involve minimal out-of-pocket costs... so not like the pageant moms you see on US television.


I saw the photographs of her in the first pageant and she looked absolutely stunning. A worthy winner that's for sure. So this pageant, the third of its kind in Australia, was about to be her second and this time she had some experience and knowledge of the world under her belt.


And though I didn't know what to expect I was stoked just to be there and part of it all. And Friday night, having indulged in the champers and the book, I wrapped myself up in the soft bed linen and prepared for the early arrival of my guests and an action-packed morning complete with toddlers, teens and tiaras.