I had an interesting experience in Budapest the other day. You see, there are many things I do miss about my life in America, and my home in Dallas (well, one of my ‘homes’ anyway). But I can surely tell you that I don’t miss the fakeness, the superficiality, the fact that many places you go are all for show and it’s not difficult to find many walking plastic surgery ‘mannequins’ around town. No depth, just hiding behind image. An image that they hope will give them a certain status, importance, value.

My surprise came when I was at a kids’ dance competition one afternoon. I was there because my dear friend Rita had a minor operation yesterday and was still in the hospital, so I said I’d take her 9-year old daughter Ivett to the competition in town. We arrived early and played and talked, just waiting for the time to start getting ready. That time came so we started towards the dressing room for costumes and hairdos.

Many of the people around were familiar to me, as I had gone with Rita several times to take her little girl to dance practice. The girls were running around and full of energy and life, excited for their debut. As the girls were approaching their performance, I began to notice many parents show up fashionably late. Well, what do you know? The girls need to be on the stage in less than three minutes and the moms who are just walking in don’t seem so interested because they’re too busy worrying about holding their Gucci bags just so, making sure not a scuff appears on their shiny clown shoes, and puckering their lips in such a position so that it is impossible not to see the Botox injections.

Okay, so I began to ponder just whom this competition was for anyway. Taller shoes, shorter skirts, bigger rings… I think it was obvious. The MOMS! I will briefly put the following out there as a disclaimer: it’s not only about a desire to look nice or look your best. I also enjoy that. I’ll admit that I too, like almost every woman, won’t leave the house in a bad-looking state most of the time. I actually even like to look my best almost always. But there is a line of ridiculous-ity that gets crossed at some point. I do care much more about being a real person and being kind to others than I do about topping or being better than everyone else. I think others are far more important than presenting such a fake image that doesn’t even represent who you truly are. The saddest part is that as the girls become “like mother, like daughter,” this is what they aspire to be. This model that they are seeing, will in my opinion, rob them of deep, real and meaningful relationships. Guess this epidemic isn’t only in Dallas after all…