Miss Blueberry Hill Tells All

Alexis Barton — Miss Blueberry Hill Tells All

They say you never forget your first time. Now, I’m not talking about that type of first time, but that’s how I remember entering my very first beauty pageant. scholarship pageant. Now understand, I had never run for anything competitively in my life before. The only thing I’d won was the fourth grade spelling bee. And among my classmates, I was kind of used to coming in second place. And I was nobody’s performer.

I threw up before every piano recital I ever had. for 10 years, straight. But I wanted to know what it felt like to win. And to be honest, I wanted that crown, not just any crown, the Miss Alabama crown. Now, to understand how truly delusional that was, remember what I said about throwing up before piano recitals? But a friend who supported my delusions suggested that before I enter the Miss Alabama pageant system that I do a pageant for practice. And fortunately, there was a local pageant right around the corner. We’ll call it the Miss Jefferson County Legacy Jamboree Pageant.

Some of you know what I’m talking about. I dashed off my application. mailed it in, and they called. We’d love to talk to you. And so I ran down to the Five Point South Library and had a little interview with the pageant committee, and they accepted me. That was a piece of cake, I thought. She win. Till I got down to the local dance studio for the first of many pageant practices coordinated by a local choreographer. And I sized up my competition, and I realized, Lex, you in danger, girl. Because they were prepared. They were talented, these other young ladies. They were leggy. They were confident. One of them had performed on a cruise ship as a singer. And here I was, a tall, awkward, ugly duckling.

Looks, eight on a good day. Dance, negative three. But if anything, I’m not a quitter, so I needed a graceful exit, right? And I hadn’t told my parents yet that I’d signed myself and their credit cards up for this opportunity. So when I told them, I was shocked because they were all in. My dad, turned into a madman, literally. He turned into Ron Draper. He sold every ad that I needed for the pageant program and he wrote every line of copy. My mom, Miranda Priestley, had nothing on her because she prepared my wardrobe like I was going to the Ebony Fashion Fair or, for those of you who are younger, Rush Top. She even enlisted my aunt to design and put together my opening number outfit, a crimson organza jumpsuit with a big bow because southern girls love bows.

And when the big night came, I whirled into the theater and I marched up to the microphone, kind of like this one, and I said, my name is Alexis Barton and I’m a junior majoring in English at UAB and my motto is, it’s not what you’re called, it’s what you answer to. And they bought it. Just like y’all did. And then I was dancing to the edge of the stage in my fitness wear and holding my eight count like my life depended on it. Because I didn’t know what an eight count was before a pageant. And then I was in my little tweed suit chewing up the scenery for my dramatic monologue because I was not going to perform on the piano. And by the time I went to change into my mother’s evening gown that I had borrowed, I realized I was having fun. And I realized something else as I looked at the other girls as they changed, and I saw that they were shook.

One was crying because she had missed the opening choreography steps, and another was crying because her boyfriend hadn’t shown up for the pageant, and one was crying because she had a new pimple that they didn’t have concealer for. And I realized that we weren’t all that different. We were all swans growing into our wings, paddling furiously, trying not to make fools of ourselves. And I went back out for that final question and I could take a deep breath like I’m doing now and relax. And I found my parents’ eyes in the audience and locked on them and I realized that I had always been a princess to them. So when they called the top 10 and my name was included, I wasn’t really surprised. I had as good a chance as anyone else I knew by then.

And then it was top seven, top five, top two. And it was me and one other girl standing there under the hot light like this one. And my hope, my heart thundered in my chest and it rose up in my throat. And then all of a sudden, runner up. Me? An audible gasp went across the crowd. Or so my mom says, but let’s face it, she’s biased. And as I took my roses and stepped back into the shadows so the queen could be crowned, I didn’t stop smiling. Even though, you know, I did have Vaseline on my teeth, but really it was because I knew that in the words of James Baldwin, my crown had already been bought and paid for.

I just had to put it on. And there was a silver lining because I was named Miss Photogenic, which came with a year’s worth of free hairstyling. So technically, I did get a new crown twice a month for a whole year. And I consider that a big win because I was a broke college student. And now, when I’m on stages like that, well, like this one, and I want to run and throw up off stage, I look around and I remember that everybody else is nervous too, and that this is just practice, and we’re all practicing. Thank you.