My feet hurt

Yes, gentle readers...I've done it again. Once again, I have channeled the Mouth from the South and embodied Ms. Martina Gras (but you can call me Marti!). The Stilettos had their most recent show in Cheyenne last Saturday. I started shaving things on Thursday.

Each time I perform "in face" as a women, I am struck by the amount of work that goes into being an "acceptable" woman. Shaving, waxing, tweezing, plucking, and moisturizing. Then there's hair to get done, makeup to apply, garments that squeeze/tuck/shape/otherwise contort, pantyhose to wrestle...and then there's the damned shoes!

Heels are, in fact, a medieval torture device designed to weaken, enfuriate, and otherwise harass anyone who wears them. I managed to catch a heel on a chair leg and roll one of my ankles. Not the most graceful thing for a drag queen to do. But I channeled my inner diva and stood right back up, righted the overturned chair, and continued with the number as though nothing had ever happened. It wasn't until after I left the room that my most fabulous dressor extraordinaire, Ms. Bryski, checked for a wound. And there was a doozie of a floor burn and run in my stocking the size of Texas. Great fun!

Though I've said it before, I think it bears repeating. Straight men: the next time you're grumpy because your wife/girlfriend/sister/friend/female whatever is "taking too long getting ready..." Shut the fuck up! Because the next time I hear a man doing so, I shall promptly put him in true drag. He shall learn that putting on a full face of makeup takes an hour when done properly. That your makeup must be retouched several times throughout the course of the evening. That whatever she is wearing is probably designed for someone built like a twig, and that she's wearing shaping garments to squeeze herself to a "more perfect" vision of loveliness. Not only is it likely uncomfortable, it probably outright hurts!

So pipe down or deal with women going out without make up or decent clothes. They'll start throwing on a hat and baggy shirt whenever they leave. And you're not allowed to bitch about how she's letting herself go. Or I'll use my glued on nails to claw out your eyes and will plant a size 14 6 inch heel in your forehead.