Flags unfurling in the summer morn. Horns and horses and all many of people low and high walked upon the merry glade. Stamp of boots from old warriors echo and the breathe of horses fog and steam the air. Wild wanderers, furred and booted stand by to watch as the pageant rolled on by
beauty wins in life too. it’s not the same obvious competition but it is still there. but the good thing in life is: you can knock the beauty factor out…… if you can.
She trickled through the room with her spotted soul spilling over the stage, and boy, her hair was light. It was pulled through vicious combs and rough spray that held her down almost as much as the one announcing her name. But he didn’t know her at all. Did anyone know her at all? She didn’t even look the same as the person standing to her left and right, but she shivered in glee.
I think it’s so stupid that moms put their young daughters in pageants. Girls don’t deserve to be treated like that. It makes them think that physical beauty is priority. It’s not. Who you are is better than how you look. Anyday.
There was nothing else that could have filled the room with such anticipation and fervour. The Rose was a competition every family in the village vested energy in and a pageant that was regarded with pride by each mother and her budding female bloodlines…
They was nothing else that could have filled the room with such anticipation and fervour. The Rose was a competition every family in the village was vested in and a pageant that was regarded with pride by each mother, down through their lines…
The line of girls swept by me. They all wore sumptuous dresses in every colour imaginable with sequins and feathers everywhere. I felt glad not to be one of them looking as they did as if they were about to join a pageant.
My mother used to tell me I should be a model. You’re so pretty, so exotic, she would say. She doesn’t say that any more. I guess when your kids grow up and suddenly they’re covered in lines of scars, you don’t want to show them off any more.
The crowd was over the top, performing like a pageant in full flow. The invitation did not mention this would be the outcome and I was seriously underprepared, outflanked and overwhelmed.
The curtain drew. It seemed to rise faster than before. I could feel a bean of sweat beginning to descend from my brow. The light was brighter than I remembered. Maybe the fact I could still see the audience members made it so unfamiliar. Why am I even up here? This isn’t me. This isn’t who I want to be. Force to prance around and act like a character from a movie. If only they knew the real me. I don’t wear gowns, or fake nails. I hate myself for agreeing to do this. All to make someone else happy. It must make them feel good to see me act a fool and look so ridiculous. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. It is exhausting and no matter what I do I will never make them happy. And in the end, I’m left to be alone anyway………
She struts down the aisle like a pageant queen, knowing she’s what everyone is looking at and loving every moment. She’s the type who is the center of everything, always, and never expects it to be another way. Oh, I hated her from the moment I saw her. A lot of girls did. But we only hated her because she was who we wanted to be, deep down.
Overdont dress up play can turn into something wild and distasteful, ugly, and quite counterproductive. Turning youth into monsters, dwelling only on outer beauty without thought of inner beauty. Ugliness can be masked, but ugliness on the inside will always reveal itself.
I’m always the last one to the party. groups and pairs have already been formed and I make my way to the back patio for a smoke. girls herd around the good looks and button up shirts with a bottle of Mike’s Hard and a gelled hair. skirts pulled so high you can see the shit stains underneath. girls like a clean shave. they’re flies for the fags whom never worked for attention or stories then wonder why men jump one to another. I’ll steal a couple beers out of the fridge, put my cigarette out on the nice furniture, remember why I don’t go to parties.
A chance to be someone you always wanted to be or a chance to have your dreams broken and crushed. Competition. Judgement and comparison. What to do now. Have I lost? Is this the end? I’m simply not good enough anymore. It’s a funny word. An even funnier thing.
beautiful shallow girls who think that beauty is everything and nothing else matters. thin females who tend to starve themselves to look a certain way.
a pagea..? what? the beauty thing? with all those women? skimply dressed? no? wait i dont even have the time to check the dictionary what pagaent means wait thats not how you spell it do you?
I watched Toddlers in Tiaras the other day, and it made me sick. I can’t believe a mother would do that to their child. I believe that the only reason those people are still on the air is because people simply watch the show out of pure disbelief. I have never been In a pageant, but I helped my cousin with one once.
Beauty Pageants, something I never felt confident enough to participate in. I always laugh at those fake girls and say it’s completely stupid but the truth is; if I had been skinnier, prettier, etc… I would have done it.
He hated going to pageants, but his baby sister was in this one. Begrudgingly, he was dragged along by his mother, who insisted this was critical family time. His ass, it was.
The crowed stares, amazed in wonder at the spectacle before them. The clowns run about, the ladies pose elegantly, and the speaker announces the winner. And when it is all over, the community is better. Safer. Richer.
Th floral decor was taken to the penultimate extreme at this year’s pageant, complete with chemically concocted fragrances sprayed on every flower–plastic and living–and girls gallivanting about in gaudy dresses to match.
Pageant. Interesting. I was thinking of a word that started with the letter ‘p’ but I was really hoping it would ‘passion’ instead. Nevertheless, people in pageants usually have a lot of passion… or maybe it’s just a drive to win at all costs. Sometimes I wonder– what is the difference?
This is a a thing girls who are attention seekers do. They dress up in front of people in hopes of making themselves feel better about themselves. Pageants are stupid.
The pageant was delayed due to the rain and high winds. After standing alone for over an hour, I could finally hear the horns and drums getting near. My hopes were up, and so was my anticipation level.
The little brats ran around everywhere. How am I ever gonna get used to this? I frowned as I looked at my mother, the biggest smile spread upon her face beaming more than ever.
Baby dolls, propped on stage. Mini Barbies parade forth. Little girls with make-up like seasoned whores and clothes too gaudy for a Mardi Gras Ball. Smile, smile, smile.
“Momma, I’m gonna win that pageant,” she said.
“No you’re not. You can’t, sorry babes,” her mom replied.
The little girl left the room, and remembered those words forever.
Ten years later, that little girl won Miss America.
This was her Thank-You speech,
“Thank you, to my mother, for telling me I couldn’t. That was the best thing you could have told me- it pushed me to prove you wrong.”
I’m not a beauty queen. I hate cosmetics, and I’ve never touched a hair iron before. I’m downright ugly and everyone knows it. I’m a freak, a witch. Why did I sign up for this again?
at first i was like what the hell is this word then i read it again and i guess i don’t really care about it. i mean you are who you are and if you need to doll yourself up to feel awesome then thats you. do your thing no matter what ya know? i personally wish i could do that… be beautiful and wanted by many but if someone wants me no matter how small thats okay too.
pageants are something that lets humans judge people on absolutely nothing of merit. Every pageant is based on something that means people will be judged on whatever the judge wants.
A pageant is for beauty. It is to show off to the world what beauty is and how you people portrait it. With all the fancy gowns and all the make-up we loose sight of true beauty is. World peace is something that is said we want most in beauty pageants to win.
A showcase of one’s “beauty” before judges who have some sort of ability to “judge” this so called beauty. I believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so why hold these so called pageants to “rank” someone’s beauty? Everyone is beautiful in their own way, and no trophy, plaque or sash with a fancy title will ever determine beauty in my mind.
Flags unfurling in the summer morn. Horns and horses and all many of people low and high walked upon the merry glade. Stamp of boots from old warriors echo and the breathe of horses fog and steam the air. Wild wanderers, furred and booted stand by to watch as the pageant rolled on by
elephant love baby dale marriage kids family dreams military beauty hate lies distrust trust good bad kind wonder stars life live mouse freedom
beauty wins in life too. it’s not the same obvious competition but it is still there. but the good thing in life is: you can knock the beauty factor out…… if you can.
She trickled through the room with her spotted soul spilling over the stage, and boy, her hair was light. It was pulled through vicious combs and rough spray that held her down almost as much as the one announcing her name. But he didn’t know her at all. Did anyone know her at all? She didn’t even look the same as the person standing to her left and right, but she shivered in glee.
I think it’s so stupid that moms put their young daughters in pageants. Girls don’t deserve to be treated like that. It makes them think that physical beauty is priority. It’s not. Who you are is better than how you look. Anyday.
Beauty in its breakdown. Natural beauty, caked in ugliness, makeup, and clothes.
There was nothing else that could have filled the room with such anticipation and fervour. The Rose was a competition every family in the village vested energy in and a pageant that was regarded with pride by each mother and her budding female bloodlines…
They was nothing else that could have filled the room with such anticipation and fervour. The Rose was a competition every family in the village was vested in and a pageant that was regarded with pride by each mother, down through their lines…
The line of girls swept by me. They all wore sumptuous dresses in every colour imaginable with sequins and feathers everywhere. I felt glad not to be one of them looking as they did as if they were about to join a pageant.
My mother used to tell me I should be a model. You’re so pretty, so exotic, she would say. She doesn’t say that any more. I guess when your kids grow up and suddenly they’re covered in lines of scars, you don’t want to show them off any more.
we all jumped around wearing colourful masks
pretending to be ourselves
I always wanted to be in a pagent. It just a dream to be that beautiful and confident. Even though a lot of p
The crowd was over the top, performing like a pageant in full flow. The invitation did not mention this would be the outcome and I was seriously underprepared, outflanked and overwhelmed.
The curtain drew. It seemed to rise faster than before. I could feel a bean of sweat beginning to descend from my brow. The light was brighter than I remembered. Maybe the fact I could still see the audience members made it so unfamiliar. Why am I even up here? This isn’t me. This isn’t who I want to be. Force to prance around and act like a character from a movie. If only they knew the real me. I don’t wear gowns, or fake nails. I hate myself for agreeing to do this. All to make someone else happy. It must make them feel good to see me act a fool and look so ridiculous. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. It is exhausting and no matter what I do I will never make them happy. And in the end, I’m left to be alone anyway………
She struts down the aisle like a pageant queen, knowing she’s what everyone is looking at and loving every moment. She’s the type who is the center of everything, always, and never expects it to be another way. Oh, I hated her from the moment I saw her. A lot of girls did. But we only hated her because she was who we wanted to be, deep down.
Crazy what those mothers do to their children on Toddlers and Tiaras, making human nightmares one day at a time
are all about pretty and tiaras and how you look. mothers are stressed and people never seem happy unless they win. its all about expectations.
Overdont dress up play can turn into something wild and distasteful, ugly, and quite counterproductive. Turning youth into monsters, dwelling only on outer beauty without thought of inner beauty. Ugliness can be masked, but ugliness on the inside will always reveal itself.
I’m always the last one to the party. groups and pairs have already been formed and I make my way to the back patio for a smoke. girls herd around the good looks and button up shirts with a bottle of Mike’s Hard and a gelled hair. skirts pulled so high you can see the shit stains underneath. girls like a clean shave. they’re flies for the fags whom never worked for attention or stories then wonder why men jump one to another. I’ll steal a couple beers out of the fridge, put my cigarette out on the nice furniture, remember why I don’t go to parties.
A chance to be someone you always wanted to be or a chance to have your dreams broken and crushed. Competition. Judgement and comparison. What to do now. Have I lost? Is this the end? I’m simply not good enough anymore. It’s a funny word. An even funnier thing.
beautiful shallow girls who think that beauty is everything and nothing else matters. thin females who tend to starve themselves to look a certain way.
sluty, idealistic, unrepresentative, not forth right, staged, nobodys.
Invested in cheap liberties.
Fake people, fake smiles, fakes worlds.
Wasted life on so little.
a pagea..? what? the beauty thing? with all those women? skimply dressed? no? wait i dont even have the time to check the dictionary what pagaent means wait thats not how you spell it do you?
beauty pageant? christmas pageant? I was in one once, the christmas one. I don’t remember much, only that my shoes felt funny.
I watched Toddlers in Tiaras the other day, and it made me sick. I can’t believe a mother would do that to their child. I believe that the only reason those people are still on the air is because people simply watch the show out of pure disbelief. I have never been In a pageant, but I helped my cousin with one once.
Beauty Pageants, something I never felt confident enough to participate in. I always laugh at those fake girls and say it’s completely stupid but the truth is; if I had been skinnier, prettier, etc… I would have done it.
He hated going to pageants, but his baby sister was in this one. Begrudgingly, he was dragged along by his mother, who insisted this was critical family time. His ass, it was.
The crowed stares, amazed in wonder at the spectacle before them. The clowns run about, the ladies pose elegantly, and the speaker announces the winner. And when it is all over, the community is better. Safer. Richer.
Th floral decor was taken to the penultimate extreme at this year’s pageant, complete with chemically concocted fragrances sprayed on every flower–plastic and living–and girls gallivanting about in gaudy dresses to match.
Pageant. Interesting. I was thinking of a word that started with the letter ‘p’ but I was really hoping it would ‘passion’ instead. Nevertheless, people in pageants usually have a lot of passion… or maybe it’s just a drive to win at all costs. Sometimes I wonder– what is the difference?
This is a a thing girls who are attention seekers do. They dress up in front of people in hopes of making themselves feel better about themselves. Pageants are stupid.
The pageant was delayed due to the rain and high winds. After standing alone for over an hour, I could finally hear the horns and drums getting near. My hopes were up, and so was my anticipation level.
The little brats ran around everywhere. How am I ever gonna get used to this? I frowned as I looked at my mother, the biggest smile spread upon her face beaming more than ever.
Baby dolls, propped on stage. Mini Barbies parade forth. Little girls with make-up like seasoned whores and clothes too gaudy for a Mardi Gras Ball. Smile, smile, smile.
“Momma, I’m gonna win that pageant,” she said.
“No you’re not. You can’t, sorry babes,” her mom replied.
The little girl left the room, and remembered those words forever.
Ten years later, that little girl won Miss America.
This was her Thank-You speech,
“Thank you, to my mother, for telling me I couldn’t. That was the best thing you could have told me- it pushed me to prove you wrong.”
I’m not a beauty queen. I hate cosmetics, and I’ve never touched a hair iron before. I’m downright ugly and everyone knows it. I’m a freak, a witch. Why did I sign up for this again?
at first i was like what the hell is this word then i read it again and i guess i don’t really care about it. i mean you are who you are and if you need to doll yourself up to feel awesome then thats you. do your thing no matter what ya know? i personally wish i could do that… be beautiful and wanted by many but if someone wants me no matter how small thats okay too.
pageants are something that lets humans judge people on absolutely nothing of merit. Every pageant is based on something that means people will be judged on whatever the judge wants.
A pageant is for beauty. It is to show off to the world what beauty is and how you people portrait it. With all the fancy gowns and all the make-up we loose sight of true beauty is. World peace is something that is said we want most in beauty pageants to win.
A showcase of one’s “beauty” before judges who have some sort of ability to “judge” this so called beauty. I believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so why hold these so called pageants to “rank” someone’s beauty? Everyone is beautiful in their own way, and no trophy, plaque or sash with a fancy title will ever determine beauty in my mind.