Baby Beauty Queens? Really?

I’ve been listening to a lot of the Savage Love podcast here recently. I like Dan Savage’s advice (usually), the quirky things that come up on the show, and how it is often sane, sensible advice given to folks who sound like they really and truly need it. (He's also frank and often raw, so if your workplace a is a quiet one, ummm, put on headphones if you're sneaking in a listen there).

It also is a way to get through unpleasant tasks – building Ikea furniture, sorting through that mound of papers I keep needing to sort through, even cleaning out my closet in my parents house full of memories from the first 20-odd years of my life.

So, channeling Dan Savage and my own honed ranting ability, I must confess how shocked and, well, shocked I was to see this tv show called “Toddlers and Tiaras” on TLC today. Yes, there is a show that is about beauty queens under the age of 9. This episode followed a few lovely “ladies” whose ages ranged from 3 to I think 6?

Every scene brought new horror. The mother who says that sometimes you have to be tough, but she supports her daughter and really just wants to be a supportive mother. Her daughter is 3. And is told that her “smile is fake” and that she “won’t win with a fake smile” repeatedly. This girl also gets fake spray tanning done, wears fake hair… has a makeup artist…

Perhaps I’m so riled because these women (there don’t seem to be many dads pushing their young daughters to be beauty queens that I could see) spend OBSCENE amounts of money on their little girls. Dresses, teachers, tanning, hair, nails, entry fees – thousands of dollars. One had spent over $35,000 for the initial “investment” of beauty shots, costumes, etc. Ummm, why don’t you invest that in her college fund? Or make a savings account for future need, a nest egg so that she has options when she finishes high school? Or buy her a toy tiara or two?

Another girl was distinctly bratty, spoiled totally and completely with a-need-to-win complex. She flounced, she rebelled, she fussed. Her mother said over and over “She has a lot of personality.” No. She is stubborn and spoiled and you encourage this behavior. I want to see the show in 10 years where the girls have eating disorders, body image issues, sleep with everything that breathes, get into partying, drugs, alcohol and other acts of rebellion and hear the mothers say they just "don’t understand" what could have caused this. Staring earnestly into the camera: "I’m a good mother, I’ve supported her decisions but I don’t get why she doesn’t think she can ever be good enough."

I’m positive that it was the girls themselves, naturally, who proposed the idea of being mini beauty queens to their mothers. Not the other way around. That instead of praise for what’s been accomplished, the mothers all seemed to hold their breath for the next bigger, better prize. Even though several of them admitted they didn’t understand how the crowning system worked – they still wanted that next big one.

The sight of the little girls wearing rhinestone crowns literally almost half their size… there are no words. Well, there are some. But they aren’t very complimentary ones. These rooms decorated with crowns, sashes, glitter and glitz – the girl who is the youngest of 8 and the only daughter – what are these girls learning about self-worth and looks?

That they obviously go hand and hand.

Perhaps that’s not so insidious, one could say. Our society has long honored the beautiful woman over the plain, over the smart, over the athletic (unless she is both/and of course). These girls are no worse than others who have mothers who push them to have boyfriends at 8, to idolize the Barbie image, to, to, to… I’m still reeling from the images of that show though.

Exploitation anyone?

Because I think it’s wrong. I don’t understand how those judges can do their job, how folks can think that this is a good idea. And I probably never will.

But at least my sister and I can agree that whatever weird or potentially terrible things our parents may have done to us in our youth (when she writes her life story you’ll get all the gory details) that was one thing that they didn’t do – we weren’t toddler beauty queens.

I made the mistake of telling them this. Their response: there are always the grandchildren.

Compassion and its lack

Yesterday brought with it a blinding realization. True, I had often expressed hatred for Yelp and other online review sites (but especially Yelp), but I never had a concrete, iron-clad reason for it. It was more of a miasma of unease, of bad taste left in mouth. Of not liking something because it's cool not to like a popular internet phenomenon (see twitter for more details).

Yelp doesn't promote compassion. In fact, it holds the distinction of doing exactly opposite. Places like this promote critical, unforgiving, unmitigated nastiness. Because there is never any recourse, there are never any repercussions against what might be false, exaggerated, or otherwise untrue.

I was talking with the woman who owns the shop next door about how reading Yelp reviews alone is a bad idea (just like drinking). It makes one angry and upset. She added that it's also a bad idea to look at them before going to work for much the same reasons. Because folks can say things like "you're just a glorified girl scout," on the internet, perhaps thinking they're funny. And maybe they are. But seriously? Really? What is that going to change? Why does the world need to know that you think I have an attitude problem after working a weekend in a busy store basically alone? How will that guide them in their cookie quest? Why do you care enough to post this? Conversely, why do I care what you think of me? (Because I liked to be liked is one reason.)

I mentioned this conversation to Mike and he riposted that I am just as critical. Especially of customers. Fair. But there's a difference between treating someone like a fellow human being and like a subhuman creature. I also don't post my nastiness on the internet but let it die a natural, oral death (most of the time). Thus speaks the service industry worker. What I also like is the idea of a reverse yelp where baristas and other service workers can follow customers to their important office buildings in financial centers or whathaveyou and rate their performance there. 3 stars because you slacked on your copying and phone call responding. 2.5 stars because you were a terrible kiss ass to your boss and she could totally tell.

And then we can post it on the internet for all the world to see.

I think this all comes into perspective as a new bakery/restaurant has opened up nearby. I went on the first day (Saturday) and had to wait a ridiculously long time for my sandwich because, hey, it's the first day and the kitchen is slammed. I get it. I went back yesterday with Sarah for breakfast and things were much smoother. And delicious. Also supernice counter help, even if one guy tried a little too hard to be smooth. Maybe he's new at this waiting game. Maybe that's his style and just not mine. Maybe I'm thinking too much. But what I will do is tell folks with my actual mouth about places I think are worthwhile and listen to what they have to say as well - it's called word-of-mouth I think. You do it by talking.

(She snarkily typed.)

giraffes. just because

I saw this comic on the weekend and cried I was laughing so hard. Can't get the image to display right, so click on the link. Really. You'll love it.

I also will be printing this out and putting it in my wallet.

Been also watching a bunch of Eddie Izzard and laughing a bunch there too - that man is a brilliant mime and excellent at looping his stories together with the oddest of connectors. Mice and the Italian Job; how can you not laugh? Enjoy something funny!

Watched Julie and Julia again last night with Sarah. I hate that she's so obsessed with her blog, her readers. I think that while the discipline of writing daily is a good one, I don't want to be so, ummm, self absorbed? Does that make sense? So pardon if I lean the other way and don't post so often. I'd like to get back to weekly updates. Also being like Julia Childs and living in Paris in a golden age.

Where is the time machine?

The not so frozen north

The trip to Humbolt county at the start of January was, ummm, not quite what we expected. Mike and I actually had made a reservation at a historic B&B in small town outside of Eureka. We never make reservations and thus have started most our trips trekking around looking for a place to stay. After eating an incredible brunch that lasted from 1 to 4 with Sarah and Nic we took off, figured out how to use Mike's ipod to listen to some interesting podcasts (Stuff you never learned in history class is my favorite). (Later buying a cable let us plug it into the car and thus actually hear everything through the much louder car speakers.) I drove curvy dark roads I didn't know in the fog and we arrived to Ferndale around 9 p.m.

Apparently the sidewalks roll up at 8 or 8:30, depending on the day.

The Lost Coast was gorgeous (it's lost because eroding into the sea, always shifting). Having a car let us drive around and explore random spots - a cheese factory in Loleta had viewing windows to the big vats of curds; it was like watching a Mr Roger's episode but in real life. Eureka had a few excellent used bookstores, also we got to tour the Lost Coast Brewery (this micro brew places are so tiny!) and ate lunch at their cafe. Trinidad further north was again gorgeous beaches and ocean too cold to even think about going near. Lots of natural beauty.

Unfortunately I got a fever on the first full day we were there and was very sick for most of the time we were supposed to be relaxing on vacation. Not the best timing, that's for sure. Sore throat, fever, coughing - not enjoyable for anyone around, that's for sure. I lost my appetite, which was a pity considering the HUGE portions of breakfast that came with our room. Granted, they weren't the tastiest examples of their kind. Still, I hate sending a plate off with stuff still on it.

Ferndale was a small town with lots of money, not a bucolic wilderness but one full of vitriol among its residents. We had a lively conversation one night with a gentleman who Mike reminded of his son, a new professor at Harvard under the age of 30 in statistical law. Wild. He wasn't from the town and had an outsider's view on gossip besides his own engaging stories to tell. And arguments to make. It was a diverting evening, but even so, we won't be returning to that spot.

But the redwoods when we were driving back in a misty rain - amazing. We hiked a little loop trail and were amazed at the grandeur, the silence, the sheer hugeness of the trees. It's the place I would go back to for spending more time for sure. Green, immense... beyond beautiful.

In our next episode: Film Noir fest. That'll finish out January's big fun. Stay tuned.