Blast From The Past: Cub Scout Beauty Pageant

Yes, seriously. A cub scout beauty pageant. Whoever the fucktard was that came up with this idea for a pack meeting should have been tarred and feathered.

I was, oh, I dunno - maybe seven or eight years old? Scouting was a very popular thing in the community that I grew up in. There was no question that I was joining. Everybody did.

Somebody's parent got it in their head that it would be fun to have a "beauty pageant" and dress the boys in drag. I swear it must have been a child molester looking for future sport.

Anyway, my mother and my grandmother got all excited about it. My grandmother let me use one of her chemo wigs. Mom drove me to The Salvation Army and we picked out a little blue dress with white French knots all over it. Somewhere, I don't know where, some fuck-me pumps materialized for me to wear. I remember that I looked really good.

The way the game would be played that evening is all the scouts would line up in front of the audience (I've never seen so many people at a scout meeting in my life), the MC would call someone's name, and that person would step forward. Whoever got the most applause would be the winner.

They called us to the front of the auditorium. There were probably about ten of us. I looked up and down the line, sizing up the competition. I didn't really care if I won or not. I was just having fun. As I saw the other boys, all with their heads hanging down, faces squished up like they'd eaten a bad oyster, I suddenly realized that I did want to win - and badly so.

The MC started calling out our names. Every boy before me shambled up a step or two when they were called, obviously unwilling and unhappy, and then returned to their place. Each got a smattering of applause. Instantly, I knew how to cinch the victory.

When my name was called - I was about third or fourth down the line - I imitated an old 40s film star I'd watched. I strutted out about five feet, swinging my hips, one foot in front of the other, stopped and took a pose, one hand on my hip, while the other went up to flounce the back of my hair. Then, I turned with a toss of my head and my nose in the air and skank-walked back to my place in line.

Crowd. Went. Wild. I mean, seriously so.

The boy standing to my left, who was next to go, was just agape and staring at me. I winked at him, silently daring him to try to top me.

I won first prize. I don't have any recollection what the prize was. All I remember was that I had fun doing what nobody else was willing to do. That was prize enough for me.

It also set the stage for the rest of my life. I learned that most people are unwilling to do something unconventional, even if there is some potential fun to be had. But get this, if I was willing to go first, they would usually join in soon after. They are too scared that someone will make fun of them or think badly of them.

Well, I don't mind at all.

Robert Frost wrote a famous poem about how he came to a fork in the road, chose to take the road not taken, and how his life was so greatly different for having done so. I've always taken that to heart and, indeed, my life is so much richer than I ever could have imagined on my own. I look forward to plenty more of the same.