My Diamond Tiara

I caught a headline today, somewhere in the myriad of newspapers that I read, that said something about the fact that Michael Phelps wasn't sure that he would swim in the 2012 Olympics because he doesn't particularly care for the media scrutiny that comes with winning. Is he kidding? This is some sort of joke, right? Either that. or his years of swimming in chlorine has done immeasurable damage to his sense of reasoning. Basically, what he said is "If the press and public doesn't leave me alone, I'm not going to give the U.S. anymore gold medals. Nanenanebooboo!!" Listen to me, Michael, that doesn't work and believe me, I know.

In the olden days, when I was a mere child, beauty pageants were HUGE! There was a beauty pageant for everything and everyone. Every neighborhood, town, fire department, county fair, shopping mall, etc. had a beauty queen that was selected at a beauty pageant. (You with me, so far?). My father, being a bit of a local big shot, was often asked to judge these local pageants. Why, I will never know, except that he had quite the eye for a pretty girl. Anyway, many times my sisters and I would tag along with Daddy to these pageants and I can remember sitting all googly eyed at the spectacle of these girls in their glittery gowns and jeweled tiaras!! (To this day I remain mesmerized by glitter, but that's a whole other story)

One day I was shopping with my mother in a local department store and happened past the fashion jewelry department and there, to my wondering eyes, was a brilliant rhinestone tiara! I was blown away - it was the crown of crowns and I wanted it - NOW!! I didn't want to wait to grow up and enter a pageant; I wanted it NOW! And guess what, after screaming at the top of my lungs for however long it took my mother to cave, I got the tiara. You can't even begin to imagine how excited I was.

So, I took the tiara home and later that day I convened all of the kids on my block to announce that we would be having our own beauty pageant. There were looks of disbelief until I removed the tiara from it's velvet lined box. The girls began to cry and the boys, well let's just say the boys weren't sure what to do; however, at this stage in our lives (ages 10-12) they would have done about anything the girls asked them to do. So a beauty pageant it was! We worked for days, building a runway, robbing our mothers' closets of their glittery gowns, practicing our talent. It was an amazing time, that summer of 1965.

The day finally dawned and we were jazzed! The excitement was building and at the appointed time, the pageant began. Now, remember, I had initiated the event, I owned the crown, and my boyfriend (oh, please!) was the only judge. Now, take a guess - who do you think was going to win this thing? I can tell you one thing, it wasn't anyone but me!! That I would win was a given; except that I forgot to mention it in the planning. So when all was said and done and the winner was announced, you can imagine my shock when I heard a name other than mine. There I stood, in utter disbelief and horror. How could he? He was MY boyfriend and it was MY crown?

To attempt to retell the hullabaloo that followed would be almost impossible. Suffice it to say, that it was pretty ugly. The final straw came when I took my crown and announced, "If I didn't win, then nobody wins because I'm taking my crown and going home". I thought for sure that the entire cast and crew of this debacle would run after me begging me to reconsider my decision. But they didn't!! They just stayed and watched me walk away. And then, to make matters worse, the next day they had another pageant with a crown made out of aluminum foil. I wasn't invited, and I didn't go!

Eventually, all was forgotten and life got back to normal on our block, but no one ever again talked about that fateful day. The moral of this story is: Michael Phelps, be careful what you threaten - you might be surprised to discover that no one really cares!!

Peace Out!!