Later, I tried to understand my fascination with LMP by discussing the show with him. I don’t support “glitz” pageants because they send a message to young girls that hair extensions, false eyelashes, heavy makeup, spray-on tans, and flippers (i.e., a fake tooth mold that hides “unsightly” missing teeth) are necessary in order to be beautiful. However, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the TV that night. I explained to my husband that despite their shortcomings as parents, the mothers genuinely want what is best for their daughters, and they think beauty pageants are the way to a better life. He nodded and replied, “Sure. They’re [the mothers] just getting ready for the Big One.”
“That’s it,” I replied. “The Big One—Miss America, Miss USA, or even Miss Universe. They are thinking about the future.” The conversation with my husband may have ended there, but the one in my head had just started.

Even though I never participated in them, I have always loved beauty pageants. I watched the Miss America and Miss USA pageants every year when I was a child. At that time, the show would display each woman’s score on the television screen up to the thousandth decimal place (e.g., 8.345). My mother and I would sit with a notebook, add up the numbers, and calculate the winner before she was announced to the world. I still remember Bert Parks singing “There She Is, Miss America” until he was dismissed from the show after hosting it for 24 years. Bob Barker, best known for hosting The Price is Right, also emceed the Miss USA pageant from 1967 – 1987. The highlight of these two pageants occurred in 1982—the year my parents separated. I was still living in Fort Smith, Arkansas, with my mother. I’m sure that the entire neighborhood heard our squeals of delight when Miss Arkansas, Terri Utley, won the Miss USA pageant. A few months later, we screamed when Miss Arkansas, Elizabeth Ward, won the Miss America pageant. For years, Arkansas had plaques under its state-line signs at major border crossings; they read, “Welcome to Arkansas. Home of Miss America and Miss USA 1982.” Just like a parent, every state is proud of its beauty queens.

When it comes to their children’s dreams, I believe parents fall into three categories: the Mini Mes, the Better-than Mes, and the Wish-it-were Mes. All three types are on display at the LMP pageants. The Mini Mes are your former beauty queens; they want their daughters to be just like them. The Better-than Mes never experienced the beauty pageant circuit so they want their daughters to have the opportunities they never had. The Wish-it-were Mes fall somewhere in the middle. They either tried beauty pageants and failed or never had the chance to compete. Either way, they live their dreams vicariously through their daughters.

On a recent LMP episode, combination Wish-it-were/Mini Me mom Kelly had a full-blown meltdown when her seven-year-old daughter Trinity failed to place in the top five after forgetting the steps in her dance routine. During the same competition, Better-than Me mother Marie (who had to rent a dress for the Beauty portion of the competition because she couldn’t afford to buy one) beamed as her nine-year-old daughter Taylor became the second runner-up in her first glitz pageant. A tomboy who displayed her incredible karate skills during Wow Wear (i.e., talent) by breaking boards with her bare hands, Taylor is not your typical LMP contestant. She has her own short hair, her own teeth, her natural skin tone, and she wore little makeup until the end. However, Taylor exuded charm, charisma, and confidence. Unlike Trinity, who seemed to be desperately trying to please her mother, Taylor was on that stage because she wanted to be there, and that made all the difference.

I would classify myself as a combination Better-than/Mini Me parent. While I was raising my sister Adrienne, my goal was not only to give her more than I had, but also to lay the foundation for a higher self-esteem at an earlier age. I wanted her to achieve better grades in school than I did, to excel at her art in a way that I never did, and to feel okay in her own skin at a younger age than I did. On some level, I experienced some Mini-me moments because I encouraged her intellect, talent, and creativity—things we had in common, but I never desired a carbon-copy image of myself. I wanted Adrienne to be the best person she could be, and she exceeded even my high expectations.

• She earned a 4.0 GPA after one year of high school.
• She had her art displayed in three Los Angeles galleries by the age of 15.
• She didn’t love every aspect of her body, but she realized that she was attractive even if she was not a size zero.

By comparison, I never achieved a GPA above 3.75 in high school, I never danced a solo, and I still struggle with body issues.

However, I sometimes wonder if I gave the impression—like many LMP moms—that being perfect was the only acceptable outcome. As Adrienne’s drill team coach in elementary school, I pushed her and her peers to perfect every step in their routine. With only seven weeks of practice, I knew we didn’t have a chance of winning since most teams had nine months to work on their dance. However, part of me hoped that the girls could pull it off. As I watched them perform, I kept smiling despite the missed steps, the wrong timing, and the occasional frown. When they finished, I praised them for doing their best even though they had performed much better the day before when they debuted their routine for the school. Adrienne shook her head; she knew the truth—they had failed to be perfect. After a long day, we rode the bus back to school. Even though they had lost, all of the girls talked and laughed—except for Adrienne. She looked at me as tears slid down her face. I still don’t know if she was more upset about losing the competition or disappointing me. I never asked.

Even though it would never occur to me to enter my child in a beauty pageant, I can relate to the LMP mothers. Sure, some of them go too far, push too hard, especially the Wish-it-were Me moms, but I understand wanting your child to be a winner. Pageants teach children how to be disciplined and how to compete—two valuable skills that are necessary in the real world. In many ways, participating in pageants is not that different from being on an athletic team; except the last time I checked, soccer was much cheaper.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. My husband was right. In last night’s episode of LMP, a grandmother said, “This [Little Miss Perfect and other pageants] is something we’re doing until Asia gets Miss America.” Better-than Me grandma may be correct because five-year-old Asia was crowned Little Miss Perfect Nashville after an outstanding, military-inspired Wow Wear routine.

I don’t know if I saw every episode, but Wonder Woman was my favorite TV show until it went off the air in 1979. I looked through my mother’s fashion magazines and cut out every picture of Lynda Carter (aka Wonder Woman) that I could find. In first grade, I dressed up like Wonder Woman for my school’s annual Halloween contest, which I won. Taking home the first-place prize not only made my mother proud, but it also fueled my obsession. I collected over 100 photographs of Lynda Carter, and I studied them religiously. Whether she was wearing her costume or her “regular” clothes, I thought if I could just grow up to be a tall, gorgeous, intelligent Wonder Woman that I could conquer the world. (They should teach genetics in elementary school.)

As the one of the shortest girls in a junior high of over 1000 students, I soon realized that “tall” was not a word that people would ever use to describe me. (I’m under 5′3″.) Despite having attractive parents, there are no supermodels in our family, and I was an awkward tomboy for many years. However, I knew I was smart, and that my brains would be the key to my success. No one had to make me do my homework or pay me to earn A’s in school. I wanted good grades because learning made me feel powerful, which made me feel strong. In fact, school became my sanctuary when our house resembled a domestic war zone during my parents’ divorce. While my mother and father screamed at each other, I hid in my room. If I wasn’t reading or doing homework, I looked at my Wonder Woman pictures because I needed her strength. When my dad moved out of the house, I was proud of myself for not crying. I may have been ashamed because I knew everyone in our cul-de-sac was watching, but I didn’t cry. At ten years old, I had learned how to fake it.

I remember someone telling me that the one thing that people have in common is that “We’re all faking it.” I feel better knowing I am not the only person who presents an image to the world that is a mere facade. However, I don’t fake everything. I possess some of Wonder Woman’s four distinct qualities: beauty, wisdom, swiftness, and strength. I may not be drop-dead gorgeous, but I can appear and feel beautiful when necessary. I’m not Einstein, but I’m no dummy either. I wouldn’t say that I’m quick, but when I’m in shape, I am quite physically strong for someone my size thanks to years of dancing, gymnastics, and marathons. The most interesting characteristic about Wonder Woman though is how her physical and mental qualities created someone with vitality, courage and a mental backbone stronger than steel. Without knowing it, I modeled myself after Wonder Woman, and when I didn’t feel that inner strength, I faked it.

“Faking it” has its advantages. My healthy state of denial made it possible for me to be an advocate for my sister Adrienne during her 147-day battle with cancer. As long as I kept pretending everything was going to be okay, I could get through each day. Except for a brief meltdown during the burial service, I continued to fake it after Adrienne passed away. I attended a Halloween party only three weeks after her death not because I was fine, but because I thought that I needed to show my friends that I would be fine. A month later, I agreed to plan my best friend’s thirtieth birthday because her husband asked me to do it as a surprise to her. I could have said no. I’m sure that he would have understood, but I wanted the distraction. I needed to keep up the facade because I was afraid of what would happen if I stopped faking it. I have always been “strong” and “tough”; without those adjectives, I don’t know who I am.

Recently, my husband of three years (we’ve been together for six) said, “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Like what?” I asked even though I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“So close to giving up.”
I had no idea that he was that observant. Apparently, I cannot fake it with him. He sees right through me. I think he got more than he bargained for when he married me. I know that he doesn’t handle things well when I am physically hurt. He has said, “I’m so used to you being strong that I don’t know what to do when you’re not.” Maybe he thought he was marrying Wonder Woman, but I have to stop perpetuating this myth that I can handle everything. In fact, when people comment on how strong I am, I correct them. I appreciate compliments, but I cannot accept them when they are based on a lie. I must be honest.

After eight years of faking it, I am tired. Exhausted. One of my friends said that I sounded broken after he read the first draft of my memoir. He thinks I need to fix the ending. But that is how I feel: broken. Even though I love my husband, my family, my friends, and my pets, and even though I know people have suffered far more than I have, losing Adrienne was too much. Sad does not begin to cover the array of emotions that I go through during the day. I cannot sleep unless I take a pill. I’ve tried it all: anti-depressants, talk therapy, grief counseling, writing, reading, exercising, etc. Nothing changes a situation that I refuse to accept. However, I can stop pretending that I do.

I don’t need to support the facade anymore. Watch out—the false walls are tumbling down. I will allow myself to feel however I want. Besides, depression makes you appreciate the little things more. The funniest thing that happened last week was when my husband broke a glass saltshaker. No one was hurt, and we quickly cleaned it up. I didn’t show him how much I was laughing on the inside. All I kept thinking was … I wonder how many more times that will happen in our marriage. I’m the clumsy one, not him. I will remember that broken glass the next time I think I cannot make it through another day without my sister.

I still love Wonder Woman, but I am not a super hero, and I will not fake it anymore.

AWW — XoXo

* In the original TV pilot written by Stanley Ralph Ross, Wonder Woman is Princess Diana, a young woman from Paradise Island, home to beautiful, ageless, Amazon women with special powers. She gives up this life for the man she loves. Guess I did want to be a princess!

1. No kissing
2. No phone call the next day
3. Spending the night is optional

Of course, things don’t go according to plan—especially after Jerry offends Elaine by giving her $182 in cash for her birthday. I love this episode because it illustrates how complex relationships are and how despite the best intentions (e.g., “The Deal“) people hurt each other. I also realized I’ve experienced every combination of This, That, and The Other.

This + The Other = Friend—This combination may seem unusual at first. How many people fall in love with their friends? Well, it’s happened to me. Twice. Okay, I’ll admit the words “in love” may be too strong, but I definitely had feelings for the men, and I was attracted to them. However, my kiss compatibility theory failed me in these two cases. *
No matter how hard I tried (no pun intended), I was not sexually compatible with my friends, and I don’t know how you can fix that problem. Either you have “That” or you don’t. In one case, the friendship resumed after some time had passed, but the other man never spoke to me again.

That + The Other = Lover—This combination is far more common because many people are not friends with their spouses, partners, significant others, etc. Recently, a male friend told me how his girlfriend made a point of stating that they were not friends, “I don’t fuck my friends,” she said, “You are my lover.” She went on to say did not want to be his friend because she already had plenty of friends.
Although I don’t feel that way about my husband, I understand her point of view. My ex-boyfriend and I were never friends. I didn’t want to be his friend. I realized a few years into our relationship that I didn’t even like him. I loved him; we were together seven years and he wanted to marry me (dodged that bullet), but we were never friends.

This + That = Friend with Benefits—As Jerry and Elaine discovered, this combination is tricky. I find it’s much easier when you just have “That” otherwise known as the Fuck Buddy. Without the friendship, there really are no strings. You don’t have to know what’s going on in the person’s life. You don’t need to care. If both people know the relationship serves one purpose—sex—then it can be quite mutually satisfying. The only rule here is Don’t Be Greedy. Appreciate the “That” and don’t try to turn it into something it’s not supposed to be. If it were going to be “This” or “The Other” it would have happened already.

This and That sound great in theory, but usually the friend-with-benefits relationship becomes unbalanced. I’ve experienced it once in my life, and the sex lasted for a while until I developed feelings for my friend. Like Elaine, I wanted it all: This, That, and The Other, but he didn’t see me as “girlfriend material.” Therefore, we dropped the sex and returned to being just friends. A few years later though, we found ourselves very much in the same predicament that Elaine and Jerry did—we were both single, and we missed having a regular sex life. Though it wasn’t planned per se, we shared a spectacular evening full of That. We knew the terrain and there were no big surprises. Afterward, I realized I could never let it happen again if I wanted our friendship to survive. I cared too much; I yearned for The Other. So I gave up the That to save the This.

This + That + The Other =Ideal Mate—The ultimate threesome, This, That, and The Other is what I had always hoped to find in a spouse, and I did. I like that my husband is my best friend. Forty years from now, we may not being doing That as often as we would like, and if we didn’t have the This—what the hell would we talk about? I also know no matter how much gravity attacks my body, my husband enjoys me as a friend. With benefits. Plus The Other. He stimulates me in every way possible: intellectually, physically, and emotionally. As Jerry said, “Who wouldn’t want This, That, and The Other?”

AWW — XoXo

* My college roommate and I hypothesized that sexual compatibility between a man and a woman could be determined by examining their kissing compatibility. (Not a novel theory, but we used a scientific method.) Factors included kissing techniques, touch sensitivity, heart palpitations, goose bumps, time lapses, irrational decisions, etc. Though the sample was small, we determined that 83% of the time, the kiss revealed all.

1. I prefer that regular people pitch me the products instead of celebrities. For example, Victoria Principal’s skin looks so fabulous, but I have a hard time believing it’s strictly due to her Principal Secret skincare products. (Can anyone say “facelift”?) However, regular people often become famous if the infomercial is popular (e.g., Billy Mays, Billy Blanks, Susan Powter).
2. I only watch infomercials about products that I would consider buying so I focus mainly on health, beauty, exercise, and pet items. Anything related to cooking causes me to change the channel.
3. I must be excited by the title, and Paid Programming doesn’t cut it. With a dozen infomercials to choose from, the producers must grab my attention. My favorite title of all time (even though the infomercial sucks) has to be, “Is Colon Detox Hype?”

The infomercial “a blend of the words information and commercial” was created in 1984 after U.S. President Ronald Reagan signed the Cable Communications Policy Act, which deregulated television. Sources disagree about the first American infomercial although many believe it was Herbalife’s one-hour advertisement for a weight-loss supplement. In the U.S., the term infomercial is usually reserved for programs that are 28 minutes and 30 seconds in length. Short 120-second commercials that hawk products are called direct response television advertisements aka DRTV spots or short form; they are not technically infomercials.

A true confession isn’t complete without full disclosure of one’s sins … so here are my favorite (currently airing) infomercials a.k.a. guilty pleasures:

1. P90X: The Proof promises to whip your body into shape in 90 days by using Tony Horton’s secret technique of “muscle confusion.” I call his method kicking your ass until you want to drop dead. Actually, I bought this program on eBay (much cheaper!), and I love it. The only thing the infomercial does not disclose is that P90X is not for beginners. I’m proof of muscle memory because I don’t exercise on a regular basis (I’ve stretched the 90 days into seven months), but I still manage to survive most of the workouts.
2. Look Thinner Instantly swears the only way to get your figure back is with Kymaro’s New Body Shaper. This infomercial has all of the right ingredients: live testimonials, quantitative proof, and an “easy fix” to a common problem. I wanted to buy a body shaper, but I knew how ridiculous it would seem to people given that I wear a petite size 2. (There’s no way I’m posting my weight.) I did not succumb to temptation.
3. Straight Sexy Hair assures all women with flat, straight, fine hair that we, too, can have that extra lift by using the innovative Instyler, a “new hair styling tool that straightens, polishes and styles hair by means of a rotating heated cylinder and brush bristles.” I was almost sold because “Haley” has “lifeless, limp hair” just like I do and the results seem incredible. But I read too many mixed reviews about the product, and I knew eventually that it would be available in stores at a cheaper price.
4. Peticure “removes the fear of harming your pet” with its revolutionary mechanical grooming tool that resembles a rotating emery board. You no longer have to clip your pets’ nails; you simply give them a “peticure.” As a pet owner who has trimmed her dog’s toenails too close to the quick too many times, the peticure is an easy sale. The only reason I didn’t buy it is because I wasn’t sure if Winston’s (our 200-pound English mastiff) nails would fit into the slot provided. Now a similar product, Pedi Paws, is available at drugstores and pet stores in our area.

WARNING: Before buying any Infomercial product, do your research. Make sure you really want the product, search for the best price, and read all of the fine print. The latest scam is Flat Abs Fast, which markets the AB Circle PRO. “For just $14.95, you can try it for 30 days.” Uh-huh. But the shipping is $34.50 and then it’s only five easy payments of $39.95. Total pre-tax cost: $249.20. And good luck canceling those automatic payments on your credit card if you don’t like the product.

Suddenly, I don’t want flat abs fast; I have to learn to accept my flab or go confuse my muscles again.

AWW — XoXo

]]> http://andreawilsonwoods.com/happiness/2009/06/23/confessions-of-an-infomercial-junkie/feed/ 3 http://andreawilsonwoods.com/happiness/2008/11/22/why-i-love-reruns/ http://andreawilsonwoods.com/happiness/2008/11/22/why-i-love-reruns/#comments Sat, 22 Nov 2008 23:36:19 +0000 admin http://andreawilsonwoods.com/happiness/?p=31 I’m sitting here half-listening to a rerun of Everyone Loves Raymond. I never watched the show when it originally aired because I didn’t think Ray Ramono’s standup comedy was funny. However, I  have discovered that I like the sitcom. The writing is clever, and the characters seem real. If the show had not reaired on cable, I never would have known that it deserved all the accolades it received during its initial run.

Now that I think about it, most of the television shows I watched as a kid were reruns—I Love Lucy, The Little Rascals, The Three Stooges, Father Knows Best —they were on in the afternoons when I came home from school. I would sit in my dad’s leather easy chair, eat Cheetos, do math homework, and giggle as Lucy stuffed her mouth with candy when the assembly line sped up. I loved these shows because they were part of my daily routine. I could count on them at a time when few things in my life were consistent. Just when I thought The Three Stooges was getting too stupid, Mo would do something to Curly and Larry that reminded me of the tricks I played on my brother. After all, Mo was the smart one. And just when I tired of Spanky and the gang, they did something silly that made me think being a kid wasn’t so bad; adults couldn’t do silly things without looking foolish. As for Father Knows Best, I would pretend I was the oldest character Betty, which wasn’t a stretch because I am the oldest sibling. But my parents didn’t have a perfect marriage like Jim and Margaret, my brother wasn’t cool or cute like Bud, and I didn’t have a younger sister (yet). I stopped watching Father Knows Best not long after my parents’ divorce became final. I guess I couldn’t live in that fantasy world anymore.

I didn’t discover a lot of shows until they were in reruns. I was too young to appreciate M*A*S*H in its heyday, but I watch it all the time now. The same holds true for Sex and the City. I don’t have HBO so I never knew about Carrie’s neuroses until the show began airing on other cable channels. Thanks to TNT and USA, I am a true Law & Order junkie. Because of reruns, I started watching L & O during its fourth season; now I’m sure I’ve seen every episode that has ever aired (many two or three times each), but don’t test me on it.

I don’t know why I can’t read a book twice, but I can watch the same episodes of my favorite shows over and over again. I never fail to cry when Monica tries to propose to Chandler (only to say “there’s a reason why girls don’t do this!”) or to laugh when Jerry Seinfeld explains the difference between taking and holding a car rental reservation.

Thanks to reruns (and now DVD collections), I get to re-experience these small delights whenever I find my shows on television. God bless cable.

AWW — XoXo