Viewing entries tagged
Wonder Woman

MY REALITY SHAME

MY REALITY SHAME

You know those television shows you loved so much when you were little that you haven’t seen in years?  I’m not talking about shows like Three’s Company or Roseanne – those have been running in syndication for years and we have all revisited them pretty frequently.  In fact, during the time my insomnia was at its most profound (otherwise known as “the time period during which I should have been rewarded for not snapping and going on a blood-drenched killing spree due to lack of sleep”), Three’s Company helped me stay sane.  If you have blessedly never experienced such a thing, try to imagine that you are exhausted almost beyond belief but you still can’t sleep and your mind is racing like it’s a possessed windup toy and the entire world around you has literally gone dark and every concern you have ever had has mutated into a gigantic and pressing matter and all of the stress has come to reside in the very front of your mind and right at the moment where you think you cannot possibly stand it for another millisecond, you see that a marathon of Three’s Company or The Fresh Prince of Bel Air is airing on Nick at Nite.  That realization is like a sleeping pill, a tranquilizer, and a delightful punch in the head all occurring at exactly the same time and maybe it’ll calm you down enough that you will eventually drift off to the sound of a laugh-track and Jack Tripper’s barely veiled sexual harassments that somehow managed to read back then as charming.

But then there are the shows I haven’t seen a bit of since I was young – really young – and I am saddened to say that many haven’t aged all that well.  Take The Facts of Life.  I loved The Facts of Life.  A show about a bunch of smart girls who were good friends to one another at a boarding school where a dietician who made croissants pumped full of chocolate was their guardian?  Sign me the fuck up.  Sure, I realized that the show was a little schmaltzy at times.  It was the kind of program that sprinkled “very special episodes” throughout a standard season so we could all quietly confront hot-button issues like parents with debilitating illnesses, attempts at date rape, and hair that was feathered beyond height and comprehension, but the rest of the series felt light and fun and it was maybe the only time in my life when I wanted to be blonde so I could have tresses like Blair. 

 

THE BRAWL AT BLUESTONE MANOR

THE BRAWL AT BLUESTONE MANOR

Here are some of my all-time favorite birthday memories:

·      One year, my mother rented out a chocolate store and some of my best friends and I dipped marshmallows that were on sticks into whatever flavor of chocolate we wanted and then we coated the entire thing with pastel sprinkles and made molds of our initials out of creamy white chocolate and no fifth grader has ever had more fun than I did that day.

·      I turned sixteen wearing a red gown and white opera gloves that looked dramatic as hell and felt sweaty as fuck.  And I danced for the entire night and looked across the room and saw everyone I loved writing on a message board with sparkly paint pens and I really wish I had that message board still, but I’ve always been really bad at saving things.
 

CANDY

CANDY

There’s a red, blue, and gold Wonder Woman costume hanging in my closet year round.  It’s the Deluxe package – you know, the one that comes with covers to slide over my thigh-high boots and a gold belt to tie around my waist and a tiara to wear atop my hair that’s not nearly as ink-black the real Wonder Woman’s.

I have a plastic drawstring bag stuffed with halos, three different headbands with devil horns – one that’s sparkly, one that’s stiff and spiky, and one that’s made of red pleather – and tails of various species.

Crinolines in various colors – white, pink, and one in red that is made of so much layered tulle that it takes up a remarkable amount of space – sit on a high shelf.  I smile every time I see them with such genuine happiness that you’d think I was a frustrated ballerina, an insane person, or President of The National Tulle Fetish Club, a thing I’m not sure actually exists, but there are some strange fucking people in this world so I wouldn’t be too surprised.