Just in case there is any need for further proof that I am being trampled and left behind in the dust of changing values in this country, I learn that the Miss Universe Pageant has decided to allow transgender women to compete in the Miss Universe Pageant.
This issue was brought to light by Canadian hopeful Jenna Talackova. She was originally disqualified from competing in the pageant because she was not a natural-born female, which is another way of saying she was born a he. The decision to allow her to compete in the contest was made by Donald Trump, who owns the Miss Universe organization. And to think, this guy was seriously considering running for president of the United States.
I must admit I have seen pictures of Miss or Mr. Talackova, depending on which definition you wish to apply, and can state he or she looks pretty good in an evening gown. I’m not real sure how she looks in a bikini, however, because I am not exactly sure as to how much of a female Jenna has become versus how much of a male may still be lurking around.
I don’t know. It seems we’ve lost our ability to draw the line concerning anything. Sue wants to be Steve and Steve wants to be Eve, and I guess it’s OK if Joseph decides to wear an evening dress to the junior/senior prom, but do not, under any circumstances, pray at the prom.
But, I suppose it is Mr. Trump’s pageant and he can conduct it in any manner he prefers. I can’t help but think when I was in high school I often wanted to know the past history of my date before determining whether or not I might seriously consider a relationship.
For the most part, this was an exercise in futility because the date was in no way considering me for any long-term future, but I didn’t know these things at the time.
I was concerned whether or not the girl had been fooling around too much prior to my becoming involved. You know, at the time, the dreaded “loose woman” syndrome. I’m not sure there is such a thing anymore. I did not wish to become seriously involved with Susie only to find out that the senior guys referred to her as “Sure Thing Susie.”
But in today’s world, how in the world do you decide what you need to ask a girl or inquire about? I must say that of all questions I have thought about asking women in my life, asking if at one time they used to be a boy would not rank in the Top 1000.
And just imagine, you’ve fallen in love and now you are marrying Susie, who use to be Steve, but you don’t care because you and Susie have so much in common, like going to bars and getting drunk, watching football, and sitting in the lounge chair scratching your rear end.
Anyway, the wedding rehearsal dinner takes place and, as is the fashion these days, a charming slide show of the couple is shown on the big screen. It requires the mandatory shots of the couple having enjoyed time at the beach, the mountains, cute little scenes of kissing and nibbling off each other’s plates. There are also slides of the parents of both parties, etc.
Then there are the slides of the groom playing tee-ball, playing on the high school basketball team, lifting weights and riding his motorcycle. Lo and behold, here come the slides of Susie — also playing tee-ball, lifting weights, playing on the high school football team and wearing mutton chop sideburns as a senior in high school.
Then, there are the photos of the groom at his junior/senior in the embarrassing baby blue tux. Next is the slide of Susie, also wearing a baby blue tux at the junior/senior with the same date the groom took to the junior/senior the year before.
Oh, man. I think I will just dig a deep hole and hide in it. I can’t even watch the Miss Universe Pageant without worrying that I’m lusting after a boy.
Contact columnist T. Gamble at firstname.lastname@example.org.