Some people shouldn’t even reproduce.
I really don’t understand some people. And I’m mortified that these people breed.
I’ve never really been a big fan of the whole pageant thing anyway. I think it’s full of self absorbed parents pushing their children into an unrealistic mold. Being paraded out like overly made up dolls is is a sick way to spend a childhood. I mean, seriously. An eight year old girl shouldn’t be worried about wrinkles. I’d say her mother should be slapped, but I doubt she’d feel it in her frozen face anyway.
At eight years old, I was still laying in the swing-set so I could fly like Superman. Nearly broke my nose that way too. Thankfully, when I came home bruised and bloody with my eyes nearly swollen shut, my mother didn’t worry about how that might make me less pretty. Might make it harder to make me up into some warped ideal of beauty. No, she iced my face and took me to the doctor.
I have a beautiful, nine-year old (soon to be) niece.
|From Drop Box|
If anyone ever told her she was anything less because she needs the right dresses, and make-up, and a poison injected into her face in order to measure up, I’d tear them a brand-spanking new exit. Which they’d need after I shoved my foot that far into the factory one.
–There is a video embeded that doesn’t show on GReader. You’ll have to click through.–