You Should Wear Glitter More Often

[pixie_a_la_mode]

She was decked out in her best dress. Glitter imbedded into the fabric, bright red shimmering under the disco lights of the club. It stretched tightly against her narrow hip bones that stuck out like knives. Her chest is flat, though there are false breast cutlets stuck in the tight bodice. Lassie Calhoon knows she may not be a woman every night but when she gets on the stage she is herself. She hasn't tucked every part of her real gender away, her wig isn't itchy and the nagging feeling the other queens don't like her fades. She can see the adoring faces of the men and women around her. They swarm her hands full of dollar bills. This will pay her way through college. This will give her the psychological degree she's always wanted. Lassie flips her hair and taps her feet along to the first beats of a famous pop song. The music sweeps over her, the bass pounds. She dances under the heat of theater lights and disco balls. Her hair flies around her like an elegant bird. Lassie is completely herself at this moment.
When she gets back stage she knows she'll be ignored by everyone but her Drag Momma. The big black women who calls herself Taffy and always dances to Whitney. She was the first to take her to the wig shop. They burned the wal-mart halloween wigs together in the ally way behind the club. She knew she was home. Taffy smiled at her from behind a face full of shaving cream. "Sweet wing you were delicious tonight!" She calls from the mirror as the razor buzzes down her cheek. Lassie takes off the wig and she's Richard again. His cheeks stark without blush. Richard tries to smile with his lipstick still on. It's not the same as Lassie. Tomorrow he'll go back to school. But for right now, as he puts the wig back on, she's happy in her world.