So this morning I awoke wondering why there aren’t beauty pageants for older women who are oh-na-chur-al.
What I mean is, so what if I’m fifty pounds overweight, can never find the hair brush, don’t have a talent to speak of (at least not one that would translate to the stage), don’t have a long dress (I’ve only ever had one–we got it at a garage sale when I was 17 or 18), don’t love to wear makeup, can’t walk in high heels anymore, have chewed my nails off too low, forget to wear moisturizer, look haggard, and lose my temper at the drop of a hat (that’s the Wellbutrin’s fault)? So what? Where’s the award for the woman who has thrown herself between two hollering sibling 85 times in the last three days, helped load the new (used) bookcases, has worked on this novel on and on and still has a lot to go, is teaching a class she’s never taught before, has to use the home warranty because of the troubles with the house, misses her girls as babies, determined to be sad all day on September 11, and lets two of her daughters sleep with her sandwiched between them like sliced ham between buttered bread?
Would you attend a beauty pageant that let someone like me in it?
If your main character had to be in a beauty pageant, what kind of contestant would he or she be?
What if your main character ran the pageant, then what kind would it be?
How would your main character answer this question: “If you knew at the beginning of the book what your author was going to do to you, would you still volunteer to be the MC to this novel?”
Or
“Are you too self-focused in the problems going on around you to help with homeless animals? What are those problems you face?”
Or
“What will make your change worth reading? Are you that interesting? Are you unique or just like everyone else.”
I DO think there should be this kind of beauty pageant, but I’m not going to enter. I have too many scary/sad/upheavalish things going on right now.
And a novel to finish.
And a class to prepare for.
And fights to stop.
And girls to sleep between.
(Sigh) But it was nice to wonder about. Instead, I think I’ll reread Ann Dee’s post.
BTW, I’ve known Chris for about 14 years. He lives in a gorgy home in the foothills of the mountains, in an enviable and glamorous neighborhood. He had several servants (the last time I was there) and if I understand it, he is getting new ones all the time. They have to grow into their positions, but he’ll be there with a switch and a wooden spoon to keep them in line. He has a beautiful view of an LDS Temple, fancy schmancy clothes, and he would more than qualify for my beauty pageant, and I bet he would win. As far as cleaning around the toilet–I’m sure he’s the reason he needs to.
Throwing Up Words 