Little Miss Perfect, Part One

The biggest train wreck on reality T.V. for my money is neither "The Jersey Shore" nor "The Bachelor", for my money it has to be We T.V.'s "Little Miss Perfect". It is demented, therefore, I cannot stop watching it. To become "Little Miss Perfect" you must be a little girl and have a whole entourage of "people": Pageant coaches, hairdressers, make-up artists, photographers, spray-tan expert, clothing designers, vocal coaches, choreographers, and the list goes on. The show stresses that little girls who want to be Little Miss Perfect must work, work, work, EVERY DAY to perfect her perfection. I was such a slacker at the age of four, a virtual no-talent, underachiever in a pixie hair-cut and red Keds. Not these girls. They have drive, talent, ambition, and hair pieces. My childhood was very deprived as I was completely lacking hair pieces. The little girl down the street had a Morticia Adams wig, which I deeply coveted (the bitch wouldn't let me wear it) but the closest I ever got Morticia's wig was an Uncle Fester light bulb that cast a greenish glow when I stuck it in my mouth. My parents insisted on investing in things like insurance and college, instead of indulging my need for glamour. Mom tried -- she would go to rummage sales and purchase old prom dresses for me. I also got to play with some of her hand-me-down cocktail dresses. I do recall having a faux fox stole, but compared to the stuff the Little Miss Perfect girls have, I was strictly minor league. My mother actually cut my hair herself, the bangs requiring a piece of tape secured to the forehead so she could follow the straight line. This resulted in the lopsided look featured on my kindergarten photo, which made me look like an unloved urchin. My brother actually carried this photo with him in college and would tell people that I was an orphan he was helping support. He thought this was hilarious. Whether or not this had anything to do with his becoming a minister, I do not know. I do hope he has gotten over the lying. However, I digress.

Michael Galanes (who I think is named after a French cigarette) is the director of Little Miss Perfect. I just love this guy -- he make Richard Simmons look butch. At the end of every pageant he sings, with all his gusto and might, The Little Miss Perfect pageant song, to the one lucky child whose parents have out spent (this week) all of the other parents. Outside the economy may be suck-o-la, but inside pageant contestants parade in $1000 dresses they will outgrow in a matter of months. After a great deal of criticism about how fake the little girls looked in these sorts of pageants -- a lot of people found four-year olds tarted-up like whores to be sort of offensive (go figure)-- Little Miss Perfect seems to be leaning towards a more "natural" look. This seems to be directed primarily at the huge hair pieces and these weird things call "flippers". If you think Flipper is a dolphin, you have not been keeping up with Little Miss Perfect. A flipper, in pageant world, is this weird ass appliance that little girls who have lost their temporary teeth put in their mouth too look like they still have a full set of choppers. Sort of a "baby bridge" because everyone knows that six-year olds missing teeth are NOT perfectly adorable. The flipper, when coupled with the fake bake spray tan looked pretty much like it would glow in the dark. Something had to go. Pediatric dentists took the hit instead of the pageant professionals that are the spray tan experts. (To be continued...)