I don’t know how effective the scanning process was for the final 50-while every guy was definitely hot, Utah’s date didn’t show up and Florida’s reeked of Bacardi. Hundreds of down-home ’bama boys were interviewed as possible dates. After eight- to 10-hour rehearsal days, we went to the beach, line dancing clubs, a luau-a different party for every night.
Then there was all the free new clothes-I lugged 14 t-shirts, five pairs of shoes, custom tailored jeans, three tops and an exercise outfit back home. Every morning I read articles about us over breakfast, and every night I watched footage of our rehearsals and appearances on the news. Wherever we went, the Mobile press followed. Little girls asked for autographs, earnestly leaning in close to whisper that they hoped they would be a Junior Miss someday. Have a craving for an Oreo mid-rehearsal? The hospitality moms were more than happy to drive out to the store.
We each had drivers with official Junior Miss logos on their cars, sponsor families and hospitality mothers at our beck and call.
Junior Miss is a very big deal to the city. The other 49 state winners and I were treated like princesses from the second we landed in Mobile, Alabama. A week after graduating from high school I found myself on a plane bound for The Land of Dixie, wearing a borrowed red suit, my medallion and a nametag reading “Kristi Jobson, Maryland.” So after cramming shopping trips, practice interviews, official appearances and make-up consultations into my senior spring, it was time for the two-week National Finals competition. Let’s get this straight-no, I don’t want to dye my hair, no, I don’t want to lose weight, yes, I realize I have acne and, no, I don’t care which Clinique products can cover it up.
It was the “friendly suggestions” about my appearance that pissed me off. Now, I don’t mind someone reminding me to speak slowly and make eye contact during an interview. To prime me for the all-important interview at nationals, my state chair carted me to mock conferences with Miss Maryland judges. Each state winner is required to make a creative scrapbook, “Discover Your Own Style” project, plan a blowout sleepover for all the contestants and, of course, prepare for the two week America’s Junior Miss National Finals. From parades to appearances at nursing homes and elementary schools, Junior Miss became a huge part of my life. Titles don’t end when you take off the medallion or unpin the crown. In the mirror that night, washing pounds of stage makeup, I looked-you guessed it-shocked. During my news interview, I look shocked. In pictures of me wearing my gleaming Junior Miss medallion, I look shocked. So imagine my surprise when they announced me as Maryland’s Junior Miss 2002. And I really thought it would be just that-a weekend.
I had to refrain from rolling my eyes sometimes, but all in all, it was an enjoyable couple days. I did my best at states, and got along with the girls. Junior Miss is a little different from traditional pageants-heavy emphasis on academics, talent and interview, and only high school seniors are allowed to compete. Most of the girls were old hat (crown?) to the pageant scene-former Miss Chesapeakes, Miss Teen Marylands to name a few. So I found myself, participant seven of ten, a little out of my league. I agreed to enter the Junior Miss competition because there was no swimsuit competition or entrance fee and I was free that weekend in January. Though my mother never forced false eyelashes on my three-year-old self in an attempt to capture the Mid-Atlantic Miss Dream Girl title, my first cousin, Miss America 1979 had been pestering me for years to give the pageant circuit a try. Billed as a “scholarship program for accomplished high school seniors,” America’s Junior Miss program looked like a good chance to get some money for Harvard. Last weekend my “reign” as Maryland’s Junior Miss came to an end, a year after I entered the pageant on a whim. When you’re in a parade with Miss Teen Maryland primly waving in the car in front of you and Miss Maryland blowing kisses in the float behind, it’s hard to not to wonder how you got there.