A Recovering Beauty Pageant Contestant Reflects On Her “Bedazzled” Journey
In six months, I will officially be too old to become Miss America.
This is not to imply that my likelihood of making the top ten has ever been stellar or even existent; however, it was nice to know that if college, career, or real life in general didn’t work out, there was always Miss America.
Technically, I should hate everything about beauty pageants. The idea that intelligent, attractive young women would willingly parade around in little more than bronzer and double-stick tape and subject themselves to a judging process that closely resembles a prize emu competition at the state fair, seems antiquated at best.
However, this past weekend, as I watched a lace-clad Miss Indiana become the 52nd young woman to cry and take home the crown, I realized to my great horror, that the emotion welling up in my chest was not complacency, it was jealousy.