It was the summer of 1996 and the local mall was holding a modeling contest. There was no charge to enter, and the winner got an all-expense-paid trip to California.
"Please, Mom, can we do it?!" my daughters asked excitedly. Joy and Michelle were 13 and 9 at the time and I wondered if they could deal with the rejection that goes hand in hand with modeling contests. Even the prettiest girls lose, and for those who win it can be a mixed blessing.
Did I really want my girls being judged on their looks? They were insistent, however, and so I agreed. I submitted their photos and the following week we were notified they had both made the semifinals. That Saturday they were to be at the mall at 10 a.m. for a briefing.
Saturday morning the mall was all abuzz with girls ranging from ages three to 19. A tall, thin, 40ish, former model (no doubt) made her way to the front of the room and spoke into the microphone.
"Congratulations, girls, on making the cut! The semifinals will be held tomorrow morning. Six of you will go on to the finals tomorrow afternoon. I want you to understand this is not a beauty pageant. We don't want you to buy a new dress for the occasion. We also would like you to refrain from wearing makeup. We're looking for real girls, not beauty queens."
The crowd let out a collective sigh, and it was obvious that many of the girls - if not their mothers - felt that being a "real girl" just wasn't good enough.
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