Miss California: The Boobs Are on the Job

I had to doublecheck my old-school calendar just now. Holy fuck, it really is 2009. Who knew?

Clearly not the folks running the Miss California Pageant.

Yeah, Miss California. You remember her? Perez Hilton went all “oh, no you didn’t [SNAP]” as a result of the ass-backward beauty’s anti-gay marriage stance she posited while she grinned and pointed her perky breasts at the –

[record scratches]

Right, the perky breasts. The now-to-be-infamous perky breasts paid for by the Miss California Pageant, so their homophobic girlie could have her cake and totally, like, not eat it at the Nationals.

From the Huffington Post, here. Maggie Rodriguez is the co-anchor of the Early Show. Keith Rodriguez is the co-director of the Miss California Pageant.

LEWIS: Well, you know, first off, it’s not something that we endorse, nor is it something that we suggest. But when we meet with the titleholder when she’s crowned Miss California, we put to her a litany of questions about how she feels about herself, what she feels she needs to work on, what she may need to change, what is good, what is not good. We want to put her in the best possible confidence in order to present herself in the best possible light on a national stage.

RODRIGUEZ: Why is the best possible confidence involve getting breast implants? Why does that improve her odds of winning? Why in that meeting don’t you discourage her from going that route, rather than help her to pay for breast implants?

LEWIS: Well, we would never encourage her to go that route, but…

RODRIGUEZ: But why not discourage her?

LEWIS: … it’s a personal choice. Well, I think that it’s about how a woman feels about herself. In terms of, for me, it’s not a personal choice that I would recommend. But at the same time, I know so many women that have done the procedure and feel better about themselves and the way they present themselves.

What? They mack-daddied her boobs!

Now, you know half the contestants got Nip/Tucked right into the competition, right? But THEY did this, the pageant did it. She got BANKROLLED by an INSTITUTION that already is guilty of making beauty an unrealistic standard through idealization.They took a hot chick who’d already won, and they let her stupidly decide to alter her already-prize-winning hot bod into something that, yeah, is not only unrealistic, but absolutely unnecessary!

And they don’t GET why there’s a commotion. They don’t get it.

Eating disorders are at an all-time high. We either eat ourselves to death or starve ourselves to death, but not many of us had it right. It all stems from imperfect expectations and ignorance.

The road out of these unhealthy, obsessive depths we’ve found ourselves in internationally is already a real fuckin’ steep and daunting climb without asshats like these murkying the water even further by contributing to the problem and endorsing it openly at an institutional level.

When is enough enough? Natural is hot. A woman who owns what she has and knows what she’s got, that’s a very hot woman indeed.

These already-beautiful women who cut themselves and supposedly improve themselves, it’s a fucking travesty. When is “great” good enough?

Is every brushstroke perfectly placed on a Van Gogh? No. But they’ll pay $50 million for it anyhow.

But what about the flat-out hypocrisy?

When it comes to sports, anything that enhances performance is potentially worthy of a lifetime ban. When it comes to beauty? You ain’t good enough. But we know this doctor —

How we look profoundly impacts us. We’re never more alone than we are when we’re looking at our reflections. Alone with all those thoughts from a media hell-bent on idealizing beauty and bodies, celebrating the vapid and vacuous, all swirling madly in our minds like some line from an Oasis song. “All your dreams are made, when you’re chained to your mirror with a razor blade…”

It is hard living a lifetime in our imperfect bodies, because we see every day the little things we consider not-good-enough. We see them every single day. We scrutinise, minimise, fantasise.

And when the media reminds us daily, too, of just how short of the mark we are — like when we hear that a woman who was so hot, so beautiful, so gorgeous, that she won the Miss California title au naturel and then decided to go under the knife because she wasn’t GOOD enough? — how are we ever supposed to just accept what we have?

No, I will not accept Mr. Lewis’ answer, that “she wanted it.”

YOU CROWNED HER, Mr. Lewis. You could have said, “But we believe in you. We chose you. You don’t need that. We like you. People need to see you as yourself, as an example of what’s possibly through good diet and exercise. You’re just fine.”

You could have said it. But you didn’t. You scratched your chin and said, basically, “You know what? You’re right. You suck. Where’s the knife?”

You fucked up, Lewis. Admit it. Next time you point and say “Behold — beauty!” you better goddamned well mean it, because, right now, the Miss California Pageant is the be-all end-all of “mixed messages”.

When the election happened, and when Barack Obama was became president, I was naively optimistic that maybe we’d have a return to leaders who were accountable, but incidents like this just remind me how far we have to come.

Honestly? We’re in the Sahara looking for a watering hole.

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