BEAUTY PAGEANT

Campus life taught me a lot both in the positive and negative side, but what I loved most about campus was that I could involve myself in any social legal activity in the various events in school and end up getting money for it, whether I lost or won, cool huh?
Most people who were close to me knew that I was a ‘dare devil ‘ever since I was in high school, because in primary I was a little attached to my ‘shy side’, I think horns just developed when I got into high school. I would participate in whatever event I pleased; I was not shy to do anything other than participate in beauty pageants. Back in 2008 when the university I was in needed contestants to participate in the MR and MISS University I volunteered because, for just participation one was getting paid Ksh.5000. That was a lot of money considering I was still in school, easy money.
I had awesome friends who knew their way into design and I knew that everything would be taken care of, from the make up to dressing; all I had to do was to have confidence and be sharp when the Q/A section reached. I was doing it for fun, but when I got to the rehearsals, you know the cat walk and all, I felt challenged because I was not used to girlish walking styles and owning a pair of heels was an after campus vision .Everyone contesting was tall and I was only 5’3 that did not let my guard down because we had been told that height was not an issue.
I attended all the rehearsal sessions, I was very disciplined but everyone else seemed to be better than me, it was as if they lived on modeling, they had what it took, so it reached a time when I felt like giving up. The D-day for the preliminaries was nearing and I had not acquired all the right attire for the various categories. What people around me did not know was that the modeling thing was getting into me and this time not just for the money but to actually win in something, you know something new. Everyone thought that I was doing it for mockery just like I did for the other contests. What made me feel this way was because everyone else was so serious with this modeling thing, it’s like their lives depended on it.
As I was contemplating on NOT MODELLING one of the organizers approached me, he actually saw it in me that I was almost quitting, I thought he would encourage me, in fact he did encourage me, but not with the words he uttered ‘corrie don’t worry its not a beauty contest you could win!!
I stood there bewildered wondering ‘did he just say that? What was he implying? That I was not beautiful?’ That right there did it for me I felt motivated in a negative way, I think. When the D-day finally reached I was all geared up with the proper wear for every category.
I was so excited about the contest that I even invited many people to come support me; my 5’3 height did not de-motivate me. The night was spectacular, my friends were all there, I felt like a queen to have all these people dressing me, and doing make up on my face. Although there were a couple of times I almost fell out of the runway due to the heels(za kukomboa) and the cat walk I had this gut feeling that I would be the best, maybe it was because every time it was my turn to show case my wear every one would applaud. Amazing applaud!!!
I nailed it during the Q/A ,answering questions as though I was a philosopher, ‘kwanza the English and the vocabulary I used wacha tu’ the moment everyone was waiting for finally arrived, the moment to know which contestants had qualified to for the finals.
We all stood lined up and the judges started by congratulating all the contestants, you should have seen how I was standing or is it posing, ‘Kuona tyra banks sana’. I had all my teeth out, everyone was cheering especially when the judge commended my professional outfit which was that of a nurse. If pride and ego could spell itself on our faces mine would be in a ‘Times Roman 30 font’, and capital letters.
The judges then started by calling out the numbers of those who had proceeded to the next level, whenever someone’s number was called out he/she was to step forward. All the contestants who were to proceed to the next level had their names called, I stood there feeling depressed ‘I mean I answered the questions well, I had all my attire up to class what was it that I did wrong?’
Everyone in school applauded for the final contestants, I could feel my make up ooze slowly down my cheeks, I was all sweaty and shiny from the bright lights in the hall. The rest of us were told to go to the back stage, since we had not qualified for the next round. I gathered all my courage to make everyone believe that I was modeling for money.
Tumepata pesa ya kuenda wells sasa!! Maze ninge proceed ningeboeka sana ,hii story ya kuhustle ma cladi haibambi!!’ that’s what I kept telling everyone.
Maze hutu tumse tufupi tumeokolea kwa sababu tungetoa wapi wasee wa kujaza ndio ma contestants wakue wengi,atleast sasa tumepata cream poa ya kuenda finals!’ I heard one of the organizers say.
It hurt me to find out that everyone who did not qualify was just being used so that the contest could actually seem competitive. Okay lets be real to all the people who know me, ‘hehe that was one lesson learnt modeling aint for me’,I mean in all the categories I struggled to walk down the runway, ’kwanza the catwalk wololo!!’ (kujitetea)
So I decided to stick to break dancing and reciting bible verses for good easy money. That me being me!! True story!!
Advertisements