“Gat ngaa wala mo gid sato naisipan mag sali sa mga mutya mutya noh?“
(Translation: Why didn’t you ever think of joining beauty pageants?)
I laughed out loud at the question. When I regained my composure, I confessed to my friend Val. Once upon a time I did.
In Grade 2, I auditioned to be the representative of my batch for the much coveted Marist Girl title. I remember bringing my audition clothes to school; maong mini-skirt, white t-shirt and a pair of bakya sandals that were popular at the time. There were at least three of us who vied for the spot although I can’t remember now if there were more. Our teachers were the judges. The clicking of my bakya against the newly Star-waxed floor mirrored my confidence as I strutted my way within the four corners of St. Ignatius, the designated audition room. For the talent portion, I sang Whitney Houston’s Greatest Love of All. That and all my best effort to stand up straight and flash my widest smile did not get me chosen. I fell behind my then classmate Raxenne who would go on to bag the title for her winning answer to the question “Whom will you choose to live with if your parents separate?”. I think she responded something along the lines of “I will choose neither, because I love them both.”. Bravo. I think that was my first time to hear the word “neither“ too. I was impressed. She deserved the crown.
But I was obviously very disappointed in the aftermath of the audition. I felt a heaviness in my chest only one who experienced mortification can understand. Yet since I was a proud kid, I held my head up high and walked my disappointment off, never mind the patik patik of my heels. When my sundo* met me by the lobby, he asked “Ngaa wala ka naka-uniform?” (Translation: Why are you not in uniform?). What horror. Unprepared to relive my recent humiliation, I averted my gaze in dramatic fashion and mumbled “school activity”. I thought please ‘Kol, I don’t want to talk about it, let’s just go. In hindsight, perhaps I should have aimed for drama queen.
If there was a moment that killed my beauty queen aspirations, that was it. When you are young and impressionable, these moments are rather defining. In the ensuing years, I became content with being spectator to all beauty pageants I had the opportunity to watch, local or otherwise, because seriously pageant culture in the Philippines is intense. And in a way I did live my dream when I met Dann in Grade 3 because our pretend pageants would have me and him alternating as winners. I was also Wacky Queen in freshman year at Kalay for my successful portrayal of Ms. Trinidad and Tobago!
Eventually, I graduated from wanting to become a beauty queen to wanting to become a supermodel because people told me I looked a lot like Wilma Doesn’t and Tyra Banks and if they could do it, why couldn’t I! They don’t tell you it takes more than that. I would spend hours watching fashion tv after school and practice my catwalk in my aunt’s living room in Marville Homes (colloquially Marbelhoms), careful not to swipe at her jar collection. In college, my roommate and friend Jean talked me into going to a modelling audition only to realize when we got there, there was no audition. It was an “open minded ka ba?” type of affair. You had to pay Php10,000 to be a model. No thank you! I settled for doing a quasi-vogue editorial for my college graduation shoot.
Clearly I became neither. But I guess when you are young and don’t know any better, you’d think all of these are possible. The world you create in your head, unhindered by the realities of adulthood, seems attainable.
My friend Val said I could still probably go for Mrs. Philippines. There is an obvious problem. You need a Mr. to be a Mrs. I think there are dreams that just cannot be.
Bisou!
*In loving memory of ‘Kol Moises, a close family relative and my sundo, who passed away a month ago.
So inspiring, u never give up trish, look at u now, u r more than a beauty queen and a role model.. keep on touching lives, luv ya
Tita Onet! That’s so sweet, thank you! 🥰🤗🤗