It's Good For Your Health.

I spent a good portion of my life in front of a mirror, with hair spray perfume and brushes in my hair. My father says I was born with a smile. He swears by it. I came out tapping, I came out singing, and I came out posing. I, apparently, caused a lot of tearing. I was on the stage by eight, Disneyland without the cotton candy. I spent more time listening to cheesy tap music than I did to a teacher. The bright side? You don’t get fantastic calves from listening about the Judicial Branch in government.

And thigh, I have fantastic thighs.

We just didn’t take it too seriously until later on.

I’ve been in competitive-not-for-fun pageants since I was five. I’ve been competitive since I was three. My older sister, she always got the better dolls. Yeah. I ripped their heads off. Then I had the better doll for three days, until my sister got a new one. My mother, after thirteen doll heads found their way into her bed, decided that, to salvage her wallet, she would enter me into some real-not-taking-place-in-the-town-hall competitions. Take my anger out on equally angry children.

I blew a couple o’ chunks when I did my first show. Means I puked. A lot. As it happens, I lost that show. Some Miss Teeny Tap won. I became pretty determined to win a show. I altered my routine and costume a bit every show, did five before I won anything. Came in second.

By now, we’d become more poor than a tin can, my sister no longer got any new dolls, my father just glued the head back. The down side? I wasn’t entered into any more competitions. I lived my life tormenting teachers, having talk-throughs with my prince-that’s-my-pal. On three special occasions my mother had to come in. Those visits were the fireworks, her yelling at him, him yelling at her.

“Your daughter is a demon!”

“She is not! She’s a bit competitive, yes, but—“

“Competitive? Competitive!”

“Do you have something to say? You do? Well, come on then! Out with it!”

They had a tendency to forget I was there.

Not that I cared, my mother loved me, my prince-that’s-my-pal hated me. No big deal. It’s elementary school. I had half a year left of that school. Then it was middle school for me. Grade four was bound to be a better year.