Idol Chatter

I remember when I was 12, I had this friend named Jennifer Harrington. She was in the 6th grade with me and she had entered this pageant. She was thin and pretty, with a goofy smile and glasses. I remember going with her when she was looking for pageanty dresses and she asked me why I didn't enter too. Then we could both get pretty dresses and wear makeup and be stars.
She and her mom gave me the paperwork to enter and I brought it home to my mom. I'm sure my mom has no recollection of this and if she sees this blog, she'll probably call me up and tell me it never happened. Even if it didn't, it's a good story, so save the minutes Ma.
I came home with my paperwork and pitched the idea to my mom with my sister listening as well. They exchanged glances, but not the kind I was hoping for. In my head, I was imagining their reaction: both were dumbfounded at the fact that they hadn't thought of it before. They were chatting it up talking about what my dresses would look like and my beautiful three tier updo. They would look at me and say "you missy, will be the next Miss pre-teen Dutchess county".
My daydream was popped open by my sister who was furiously reading through the pamphlet, she looked up and said "It says here you have to be poised".
My mom: "She's not poised"
My sister: "We have to make you take showers still!"

True. I was not poised and I was still in my "every third day is still not that bad" showering schedule of my life. And all of what they were saying had truth to it, they went on about reasons I can't remember.

I was not pageant material, I was pushing 115 and hadn't hit puberty, my sister who is 7 years older than me was my same size, maybe a bit smaller. I had greasy hair and bangs that matted my chubby cheeks and swollen eyes. Sometimes I was a bit smelly. And sometimes a bit more smelly.

And yet, I never even imagined my family would point out my inherent flaws to me. What I've realized now is that did a great deal of service. Although the brief shattering of my hopes probably caused me to whine and cry, lock myself in my room, all the while thinking I was too ugly to live, I'm really thankful that they did this.

If they had pampered the idea and spent the money to make me into this pageant queen wannabe, you know where I would have ended up 12 years later?

Auditions for American Idol.

Watching those horrible people this week actually believe that they are stars makes me guffaw and simultaneously want to smack them. Hard. I blame the parents. If you're child is not good at something, TELL THEM. Of course you can encourage them to try harder, get better. But dear god, if they still suck, STOP THEM. It is your duty as a parent to make sure your child understands and accepts their own limitations. You don't have to be mean about it. Be honest with them and shatter the dream slowly and delicately. Like after 2 years of being struck out at every at bat and still not hitting the cutoff man from right field, you should say, "Hey kid, why don't we blow off the little league game and go to a movie?" At this point, they've already learned about being a team player, the rest of the team hates them and they've started to develop a keen sense of humor to compensate for their lack of production.

I'm not saying that you can't let your child make their own decisions. Sure they can. When they're 18 and you don't have to pay for it anymore.

And of course I'm going to get hate mail from you parents reading this. Yes, I am not a parent. But guess what? I'm also not a douchebag parent that lets their child get their 90 seconds of fame by way of humiliation and a Simon smackdown.