Beauty Queen

Chapter 4: I'll have the thai chicken salad... Maybe?

We got home from rehearsal at 4:00, having been let out early after fittings. I tumbled out of the car, exhausted after the day, and walked up the front porch steps. When we got inside, I started up the stairs, ready to collapse in bed.

"Mia," my mom began, "I thought we could go get Hayley a present. Her party's tomorrow, and I don't want to have to interrupt your morning workout."

My shoulders slumped. The last thing I wanted to do that night was go to some high-scale boutique and buy an overly expensive name brand purse that Hayley wouldn't ever use. "How about you just go without me? You probably know what Hayley would like better than I do." For the second time today, I told a flat out lie. My mom had hardly said 3 words to Hayley, let alone known her well enough to pick out an adequate gift for her, but my mom took quite a lot of pride in present buying, and didn't seem to notice the fib.

"You're probably right. But while I'm gone I want you to workout. And no snacking!"

It took all I had not to laugh as my mom walked out the door to get the present, really. Snacking? Even if I wanted to, what would I eat? The closest thing to unhealthy we had in our house was a bag of chocolate covered raisins, reserved for mom's stress inflicted eating episodes.

Reluctantly, I trudged upstairs to put on proper workout attire. As much as I despised the constant exercise, it was routine for me, and any pageant girl knows; it's hard to stray from routine.

After pulling on a fitted workout tank top and capri-length compression pants, I walked to the bathroom. I struggled to pull my hair into a ponytail, still crisp with hairspray. Frustrated, I settled on a messy- overly messy- bun, and walk down the hall to the workout room.

The workout room was one of the first changes post- pageant takeover. The room had once served as a playroom, and I could still see my younger self mothering fake babies and dressing dolls in my gigantic barbie dream house. I'd spent hours playing by myself tirelessly in the sunlit room, only pausing for grilled cheese lunches or looney toons marathons.

A few months after pageants consumed my 6 year old life, my mother decided I didn't have time for playing anymore. As we watched the workers she hired tear up the thick carpet and replace it with a spongey tile, I wanted an explanation. "Mia," she said, "you don't have time for playing anymore. You need to focus on pageants."

"But mom," I said, my face crumbling with sadness, "all the other girls my age still have playrooms!"

"Well, Mia, you're just not like the other girls." I took the answer, and I would take it many more times in the future. What made me so different, I didn't know. But it was true, I certainty didn't have time for anything besides pageants.

So there I was, in a room full of yoga balls, ellipticals, and Dumbbells, waiting for the motivation to workout. I plugged in the headphones I had grabbed on the way out of my room and shuffled through my favorites playlists. After browsing through an assortment of recent hit singles- music was one thing I was up to date on- I settled on the newest boyband song.

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I was doing lunges, dripping with sweat, when my mom appeared, standing in the doorway with one hand propped against the door frame and the other resting on her hip. Startled, I took a minute to unplug my headphones and approach her. "Did you find anything?" I asked, as wiped underneath my eyelids, hoping to rid myself of excess makeup.

"A few items. I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner. Phang's, perhaps?"

I smiled. Phang's was my favorite restaurant where I could eat and still follow my mom's diet. I could tell she was trying to make up for her lashing-out last night. It was a faint attempt, but I wasn't about to turn it down. "Sure," I replied, "just let me shower real quick."