By my definition, a guilty pleasure is something I very much enjoy, despite my better judgment.

“Jersey Shore” is a display of people you could not pay me to hang out with in real life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not. I’ll be tuned in every Thursday night.  I know watching “A Serious Man” is probably a much better use of my time than watching “Mean Girls” for the twentieth time.

I like to consider why I have these guilty pleasures of mine. I’ll start things off with one of my guiltiest pleasures of all, one that I would consider lying about if you caught me watching it:  “Toddlers and Tiaras.”

“Toddlers and Tiaras” on TLC is a reality television program that profiles three young girls (and okay, there was that one episode with a boy) and their families as they compete in pageants. Each episode features a new pageant and new contestants.

As a 21-year-old college-aged female, I doubt I am the target market for “Toddlers and Tiaras,” but I am addicted all the same. It’s difficult for me to describe the appeal of this show.  The only thing I could think of comparing it to would be like watching a car accident … a car accident on Mars.  This bizarre world of 4-year-olds with spray tans and their personal makeup artists is fascinating in a horrifying way.

I’m not morally opposed to pageants in general. Sure, they’re superficial, but some of the larger national pageants put an emphasis on community service and scholarships. but those two concepts are foreign to “Toddlers and Tiaras.”

The prize here is usually a giant crown, trophy, sash and maybe $250.  The dresses these little nuggets wear can cost up to $200 alone, and that doesn’t include the entrance fee, hair, makeup, spray tan and fake teeth.

Yes, fake teeth. They’re called flippers, and fit into the girls’ mouths like a retainer. Flippers are worn because, as children, the contestants’ actual teeth are a snaggle-toothed mess of baby teeth and missing teeth.

These crooked grins are completely unacceptable when you’re going for the creepy dead-behind-the-eyes-doll look. The fake, perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth add to the creepiness factor of this whole ordeal. If it doesn’t seem creepy to you, just close your eyes and imagine a little 7-year-old with big ol’ chompers.

Ultimately, my main issue with “Toddlers and Tiaras” is the age of most of these contestants.
The elementary school-aged girls are usually very invested in these pageants and honestly, their ruthless dedication to that 5-foot-tall crown or trophy frightens me. The actual toddlers, however, obviously have no idea what is happening around them or why they have to waddle in a circle wearing itchy dresses.

One fascinatingly disturbing episode showed a couple “practicing” with their daughter. They would say commands and then reward her with candy when she properly turned in a circle.

Replace candy with Snausages and that’s pretty much how I trained my dog. However, this particular toddler cried on stage and severely disappointed her parents.

At least she could walk. Some of the contestants aren’t even toddlers. They’re infants. They don’t even have a full head of hair yet. Their mothers carry them on stage and bounce them around, sometimes holding them out Lion King-style. This little bundle of joy is more dress and crinoline than baby.

The announcer reads out, “Here’s Madison! Her interests include smiling, playing with her Cheerios, and hugs!” Seriously. Baby interests.

I think “Toddlers and Tiaras” appeals to the same sensibilities as “Jersey Shore.” Stay with me here.

Both shows present a reality so far removed from my own life that I am enthralled. It’s like a nature show, watching these characters in their natural habitat:  A little peek into a world I know nothing about, and don’t particularly care to experience first-hand.

I don’t understand why anyone would want to enter a child into incredibly expensive pageants, but thousands of people do. It’s a modern anthropological study of a specific subculture, which could be said about almost any reality TV show.
Or maybe I just think it’s hilarious to watch a baby paraded around.

– Liz Kelley can be reached at [email protected].