Hangin’ Tough

by Laura

Somehow after a long effing day I ended up watching the Miss USA Pageant on the tellie. I’ve always loved them. These women are beautiful, poised, and wear so much makeup that I was never allowed to wear. And when you’re little, it’s all about the tiara. I mean did you see Miss Congeniality and all that goes into winning?! I’ve never put Vaseline on my teeth or hemorrhoid cream under my eyes. And regardless of your feminist range you need to give a slight nod to a woman who can walk on a stage and live television in heels and a bathing suit (and probably hairspray on her butt if the behind-the-scenes rumors are true).

The ‘scholarship opportunity” was down to the last three (3) women: Miss Georgia, Miss Hawaii, and Miss District of Columbia when they brought out their musical guest: Backstreet Boys. These were not the “boys” I remembered. These were older, more mature, polished or plastic depending on the angle, and I swear one of them had smooth parts like Ken (yes, I shamelessly checked up and down). I also shamelessly sang along with them and I’m pretty sure I knew the words better than them. #hellostilllipsyncing

Truth be told the boy bands of the 90s skewed to the group of girls right after me by about 5-10 years. I am roughly the same age as these boys and they were after a much younger fangirl who would blindly worship them; however, I totally rocked out to both N’Sync and the Boys, I just did in the secret confines of my car where no one else could hear me.
My loyalties, however, remain with my first boy band: New Kids on the Block. OMG I was going to marry them – well just Joey. Sigh. He was my fav. I vividly remember doodling his name everywhere – even my Kleenex box was covered with little hearts around his name. Alas, puberty / reality /actual boys / legal drinking age happened and I figured out none of them were meant for me.

These never ending groups of 4-5 swarthy looking boy bands have and will continue to exist. They were a part of my youth, my puberty, and apparently my future. I may not wear an overly large button (anymore) signifying my love, but I will continue to rock out in the privacy of my car or when you’re serenading the apparent amazon women who are the current tiara wearers of little girl’s dreams.


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