Perhaps due to the outrageous adultness of the past year or so, I have used the free alone time I have had over the past week to revert back to my adolescence (which, I feel I must remind you, was not all that long ago, anyway). When my cranky old lover leaves for work in the morning, I rush into the bedroom, drop all the shades, drop a ghetto booty shaking motherfucking dance track onto my soundsystem, and rock my aging casbah like when I had no wrinkles.
Throw on a little flimsy, lacy top, the likes of which my body has not seen outside of photoshoots since around 2002. Put on the ass accentuating jeans that fall off the hips and have fade in all the right places. Maybe change my mind and put on a miniscule tight black dress instead. No shoes. My grandfather\’s hat. A little slash of pay me red lipstick. Homeboy red plastic cup of water in my left hand, my eyeglasses case
in my right hand. My eyeglasses case is, of course, my microphone.
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The closet is my backing band. The windows, nine stories above the street and yielding a view of the full city skyline, is my audience. And I dance, and dance, and dance.
I get sweaty and out of breath and roll around on the floor like a virgin, panting and squirming along with Felix da Housecat\’s remix of Britney Spears\’s \”Toxic.\” I do Salt-n-Pepa-style upside down push-ups on one hand while I user the other to stroke my strap-on suggestively. Out of shape and frightfully old, I smack my forehead after trying to do my second worm. My attempt at my first hand glide in two years leaves me embarrassed by the debilitating amount of arthritis in my right hand that holds me back. The pain in my back reminds me why I no longer do the arm wave. But I can still prance and present like any aging queen, Donna, Elton, Cher, or Kylie. Even RuPaul has a new album out. They\’re not embarrassed to look ridiculous, and neither am I. But if I open the door to find someone curiously looking back at me, I\’m likely to shriek like a diva and cry like a baby at the same time. Confession is one thing, my reversion into adolescent past times revealed in the flesh is another.
