Last night my daughter, Lex, and I watched the show Toddlers and Tiaras. What a creep fest that is. Something is wrong with those women, dragging their baby girls to pageants, where they duct tape their dresses to their diapers, actually wax the babies eyebrows (I promise we saw it) and glue fake eye lashes on their howling daughters.
Ok, some of the girls did seem to enjoy the entire ordeal and some of the mothers weren’t absolute wack jobs but the vast majority of the kids, especially the younger ones, obviously didn’t want to be there. Hell, they just wanted to suck on their toes and take a nap. We saw one mom giving her 15 month old daughter a spray tan. That’s nuts. Once the girls are fluffed and glammed, all the moms watch their daughters prance or crawl across the stage and scream, ‘Shake your bootie, Baby,” or “Super smile for the judges!” It’s embarrassing, What’s wrong with those women.
While Lex, who is 14, and I laughed and mocked the obviously obsessed stage moms, and we cracked some pretty harsh jokes about their sad need to live vicariously through their daughters a really unpleasant thought wormed into my brain.
I looked at Lex, who is long and lean, very athletic and a second degree in Taekwondo. She’s been training since she was three. That’s right, for eleven years I’ve been taking her to class and tournaments, encouraging her to stretch more, concentrate harder and I’ve caught myself several times yelling stuff like, “Side kick her floating rib, Sweetie”! or “Keep your hands up and punch, Lex.”
Humm, am I really any different from those women? That was a very unpleasant thought so I grabbed the clicker and changed channels. Of course I’m way different from those freaky moms and one things for sure… Lexie is a lot more dangerous