Tucked Penis Envy and Canned Ego

I’m in that place again. I am fully revelling in and completely overtaken again. It’s my drag queen addiction. I have it bad.

It started when I was just a baby, really. A small town girl of 19, in my first year of college. I was a music major. I loved theater. My high school boyfriends wound up coming out of the closet a full decade, a wedding and a baby before I did. The friends I made in college were all theater majors and most of them gay boys. They took me out to gay clubs and we danced and we danced. Then one night at a bar called 1470 West, I saw my first drag show. I was hooked. Sequins, Make-up, Wigs, Trashy humor and LASHES…big lush thick gorgeous LASHES….and feathers. I can’t forget the feathers…and did I mention the sequins? Yeah, sequins.

I was hooked. Hooked on drag. I wanted to be a drag queen. Big, fabulous sparkly people with razor sharp wits and confidence overflowing. They held attention and glamour….They held secrets. They get to be someone they really weren’t…on a regular basis. It’s like theater without the script and direction…and with cocktails. It’s a brilliant sparkly party. God knows I love a brilliant sparkly party.

I’ve known lots of drag queens personally. Most of them had lives as drama filled as their acts. Crazy addictions, crazy fights and crazy self esteem issues. Up close, I loved them as much as I loved their drag characters. A few of them were grounded and stable and understood that being a drag queen was entertainment, a theater piece and not the basis for their actual life. It was a delicate balance, emotionally, financially, socially and mentally. Taking the best and  the worst qualities of being a woman and blowing them up a thousand times. It’s a hard life, but really great entertainment.

I am still friends with a few of the queens of my younger days. I backed away from the drag scene as I got older, but I never backed away from my love of the glitter glamorama. I suppose I got too old to wait for a midnight show to begin. Drag time is always a few hours later than straight time. I just can’t stay up that late anymore, even with a disco nap midday.

So, these days I sit and watch my secret obsessions on LOGO and on YouTube. They remind me that life is a party to live everyday, and not to take myself SO seriously. It is a wonderful part of my gay culture and I appreciate it. Many of the queens I know had absolute toxic wits, but beneath those snarky barbs beat a huge heart and a bunch of hurt feelings. So, I am reminded that being mean doesn’t fix you, it just breaks someone else. We are all in this together, but it is sometimes, every man for himself. That is a delicate balance. Compassion vs. Competition….now there is a fine dirty line. I guess you might as well walk it in some Christian Louboutin’s, right? I know I can’t afford them…but you can get a fine used pair on Ebay in your dollar range. 🙂 just sayin

So, here is to the Queens. Thanks for feathers, lashes, sparkles and wit!  No Tea No Shade!

Smooch Out! ….you better werk.

 

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