Two weeks ago, I went for a stroll at Araneta Center and much to my delight, there was a parade being held for the contestants of the beauty pageant whose winner will vie for the Miss Universe crown. A huge crowd had gathered on the sides, eyeing every pretty girl, in full make-up and fancy get-up, that passed by who waved and smiled to everyone. Man, they were thin. I mean, really really slender.
I don’t watch beauty pageants anymore on TV, in contrast to my much earlier years when I looked forward to all kinds of international and domestic ones. So far, we’ve had two representatives from our country who were able to bag the title of The Most Beautiful Woman in the Whole Universe. Other than that, most of the delegates we sent got lucky only as to become runner-ups. We have always been fascinated by beauty contests in this side of our globe. I remember when we hosted the Miss Universe extravaganza here around 25 years ago, the President and his First Lady unbelievably took the time to attend and be part of the audience during the coronation night.
What’s generally beautiful to the eyes of most people here in this part of my globe is a woman with mixed blood, preferably Spanish or American or European which we call “mestiza.” Ladies here with dark brown skin, a bit of a flat nose and pure Asian physical characteristics aren’t that popular because we carry this prejudice that people who look like that must have come from the farthest provinces of our land. Not fair, I know, but that’s reality here. In the past, judges of local beauty contests chose winners who looked like Audrey Hepburn or Demi Moore. The problem is these kinds of beauties don’t get us the grand prize in international competitions. But contestants who look more like Rihanna or Jada Pinkett-Smith seem to give us better chances to take home the coveted crown. Foreign judges prefer that kind of lovelies from our land. They don’t like to see gals who look exactly like their kind. I understand that.
Still, my idea of beautiful are Nicole Kidman, Carmen Electra and Salma Hayek. Beautiful women who don’t look exactly like our kind.
In gradeschool, my classmates and I would simulate a beauty contest, complete with a host and a panel of judges, lining up the best looking girls from three class sections. Please don’t be shocked but yes, I got to be one of the contestants. And to my surprise, -drumroll please..- I always won. No kidding. Of course those were elementary years when my features still looked promising considering the fact that I’ve got ahem, Spanish origins. Reality started to set in when highschool rolled around and I didn’t grow tall and my physical features obviously didn’t turn out to be beauty queen material.
And so, I shifted my dream from becoming Miss Princess Titlist to becoming a, hold your breath, rock star. Yeah, I knew that would get you. Sorry. But you know, everybody is entitled to “out of body fantasies” and I did want to become a musician in rock style fashion a long long time ago. Didn’t we all fantasize about being one?
But this particular crazy childhood dream should merit another post. Perhaps.
Bohemian Sentiments 
I think it’s interesting how we consider beauty as something which can be judged in a contest. I also used to watch Miss America and Miss Universe contests and marvel at how beautiful all the contestants were, I always wondered how it was possible to choose among so many beautiful women, and say that one was the MOST beautiful. It seemed that ALL of the women were gorgeous, and it eventually came down to how talented they were and how they were able to answer questions. I always felt bad for the runner up too. The last two women standing on the stage, barely able to contain themselves, and when the winner was announced they all started to cry and laugh, and it just seemed like such a let down for the runner up. She ALMOST made it!
Your narrative in this post really gives a unique perspective, and the beauty that you were in your grade-school days, is still alive and well in you today as an adult, even though YOU view yourself differently. Kahlil Gibran wrote, “Beauty is that which attracts the soul.” In this category, you would win every time too.
This is a wonderful post!…Looking forward to the Rock Star post……John H.
Honestly, when I got older I began to subscribe to the opinion of some that beauty contests can be demeaning to women for the most part. You are quite right in questioning “the possibility of choosing among so many beautiful women and say that one was the most beautiful.” I find it absurd to proclaim one good-looking woman as superior to all the others in a pageant when it’s difficult enough to measure the beauty of any individual. And I can identify with the contestants who stammer or blurt out gaff during the question and answer portion. If I had been there, I’d do worse or probably faint out of nervousness. 🙂
Your statement about how the 1st runner-up feels is quite amusing. I agree. The tears and laughter of the runner-ups must surely be out of their disappointment.
I ain’t sure about that rock star post, John. I simply wanted to give my readers an idea how silly I was in my younger days. 🙂
And I appreciate the fact that you think of me as beautiful one way or another. That means so much to me.
Thank you for dropping by and sharing your thoughts.
Humans have appreciated beauty since time immemorial. A lot of it is genetically based. A beautiful woman, or a handsome man, has good genes and will help make healthy children.
Our technology kind of threw all that into a cocked hat. The reality is that, for example, I turned out to be a vastly better provider than those good-looking high school jocks who ended up selling used cars. (On the flip side, even my genes have to wear glasses and have allergies.)
WS, I just went out to a neighborhood grocery store for a good 45 minutes and this is the surprise waiting for me as soon as I got back home. Ha ha ha! You are such a darling. Now, I wanna bury my head somewhere. I am so so so embarrassed…But I’m glad you took the time to visit my site. I hope there’s still possibility of us becoming good blogger pals even after you’ve learned all these things about me.
Please give me time to answer all your comments. What, you aren’t sleeping yet? 🙂
You have nothing to be embarrassed about, and I haven’t learned anything “bad” about you. (At least… not so far… :P) Take all the time you want (I’ve got what looks to be a heavy week coming up)!
Bah! I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Plenty of time for it then!
EMENDED (april 2018)
Two weeks ago, I went for a stroll at Araneta Center Cubao. Much to my delight, there was a parade being held for the contestants of the beauty pageant whose winner will vie for the Miss Universe crown. A huge crowd had gathered on the sides eyeing every pretty girl in full make-up and pretty get-up that passed by and waved and smiled to everyone. Man, they were slender, as in really really slender (thin).
I don’t watch beauty pageants anymore, in contrast to my much earlier years when I looked forward to all kinds of international and domestic ones. So far, we’ve had two representatives from our country who were able to bag the title of The Ultimate Beauty in the Whole of Space. Most of the delegates we sent got lucky ending up as only runner-ups. We have always been fascinated by beauty contests in this side of our globe. I remember when we hosted the Miss Universe extravaganza here 25 years ago, the President and his First Lady unbelievably took the time to attend and be part of the audience during coronation night.
What’s typically beautiful to the eyes of most people here in this country is a woman with mixed blood–preferably Spanish or American or European–which we call “mestiza.” Ladies here with dark brown skin, a bit of a flat nose and pure Asian physical characteristics aren’t considered appealing because we carry this prejudice that gals who look like that must have come from the farthest provinces of our land. Not fair, I know, but that’s reality here. In the past, judges of our local beauty contests chose winners who looked like Audrey Hepburn or Demi Moore. The problem is these kinds of beauties don’t get us the grand prize in international competitions. But contestants who look more like Rihanna or Jada Pinkett-Smith seem to give us better chances to take home the coveted crown. Foreign judges prefer that kind of lovelies from our land. They don’t like to see beauties who look exactly like their kind. I understand that.
Still, my personal idea of beautiful are Nicole Kidman, Carmen Electra and Salma Hayek. Beautiful women who don’t look exactly like our kind.
In gradeschool, my classmates and I would simulate a beauty contest, complete with a host and a panel of judges, lining up the best looking girls from three class sections. Please don’t be shocked but, yes, I got to be one of the contestants. And to my surprise –drumroll please… — I always won. No kidding. Of course those were elementary years when my features still looked promising considering the fact that I’ve got ahem, Spanish origins. Reality started to set in when highschool rolled around and I didn’t grow tall and my physical features obviously didn’t turn out to be beauty queen material.
And so, I shifted my dream from becoming Miss Princess Titlist to becoming a, hold your breath, rock star. Yeah, I knew that would get you. Sorry, but you know, everybody is entitled to “out of body fantasies” and I did want to become a musician in rock style fashion a long long time ago. Didn’t we all fantasize about being one?
But this particular crazy childhood dream should merit another post. Perhaps.
Two weeks ago, I went for a stroll at Araneta Center Cubao. Much to my delight, there was a parade being held for the contestants of the beauty pageant whose winner will vie for the Miss Universe crown. A huge crowd had gathered on the sides eyeing every pretty girl in full make-up and pretty get-up that passed by and waved and smiled to everyone. Man, they were slender, as in really really slender (thin).
We have always been fascinated by beauty contests in this side of our globe. I remember when we hosted the Miss Universe extravaganza here 25 years ago, the President and his First Lady unbelievably took the time to attend and be part of the audience during coronation night.
What’s typically beautiful to the eyes of most people in this country is a woman with mixed blood–preferably Spanish or American or European–which we call “mestiza.” Ladies here with dark brown skin, a bit of a flat nose and pure Asian physical characteristics aren’t considered appealing because we carry this prejudice that gals who look like that must have come from the farthest provinces of our land. Not fair, I know – that’s reality here, though. In the past, judges of our local beauty contests chose winners who looked like Audrey Hepburn or Demi Moore. The problem is these kinds of beauties don’t get us the grand prize in international competitions. Contestants who look more like Rihanna or Jada Pinkett-Smith seem to give us better chances to take home the coveted crown. Foreign judges prefer that kind of lovelies from our land. They don’t like to see beauties who look like their kind. I understand that.
Still, my personal idea of beautiful are Nicole Kidman, Amber Heard, Carmen Electra and Salma Hayek. Beautiful women who don’t look exactly like our kind.
In gradeschool, my classmates and I would simulate a beauty contest, complete with a host and a panel of judges, lining up the best looking girls from three class sections. Please don’t be shocked but yes I got to be one of the contestants. And to my surprise —drumroll please— I always won. No kidding. Of course those were the elementary years when my features still looked promising considering the fact that I’ve got, ahem, Spanish origins. Reality started to set in when highschool rolled around and I didn’t grow tall and my physical features didn’t turn out beauty queen material.
And so, I shifted my dream from becoming Miss Princess Titlist to becoming a, hold your breath, rock star. Hah, I knew that would get you. Sorry. But you know, everybody is entitled to “out of body fantasies” and I did want to become a musician in rock style fashion a long long time ago. Didn’t we all fantasize about being one?
This particular crazy childhood dream should merit another post. Perhaps.