Dear Love Pies,
If I had dreamed up a tribe in my wild imaginings, it would have fit within the confines of Jack Kerouac’s quote:
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
I love that we’re a hot tribe, full of kindred souls and soul kindling, mad to dream, to talk, to create and to really live, to thrive.
I also love that we’re weird.
I’ve always belonged to the misfits, the wanderers, the Wonderlanders. There’s a comfort in knowing that your weirdness (uniqueness) isn’t merely accepted or tolerated, but appreciated and celebrated.
So bring me your weird today. Name three random facts about your self that most people wouldn’t know, under the heading of ‘WEIRD.’
I used to duct tape my hips. You heard me. DUCT TAPE! I was 16 and my overly round hips kept me out of all the hottest fashions. I couldn’t wear certain kinds of skirts cuz I’d look like a hot air balloon, and any kind of straight pant gave me a camel toe straight outta Saudi Arabia. When I noticed that a girdle would help, but wasn’t tight enough to get the shape I wanted, I tried taping my hips. It worked! I could wear anything I wanted! But try explaining the loud stripping shrieks of peeling duct tape coming from your teenage bedroom twice a day. Or the big heaping wads of crumbled duct tape in your closet’s corner. And then there were the welts, the angry, red, painful welts all over my pale white skin.
It’s crazy what shame can do to us.
When I met Silas he had no idea my hips were my secret shame. I had never uttered a word, and he probably thought I wore flowing tops and gypsy skirts because I like looking goddessy. Shortly after we began canoodling we were lying naked in bed, entwined, and I ask him, “What’s your favorite part of me?” And he says, “Your soul.” I kiss his collar bone and say, “No, on my body.” And he moans a bit and says “Oh that’s a tough one. There are so many…” A pause. A long pause. And then he says, “Your hips.”
It’s crazy what love can do to us.
I have gotten more friendly with my body in my adult years. Im a burlesque dancer and a cabaret singer.
I can pee in a cup while driving. Even a stick shift. This goes back to my college days when I was a courier and my pay was in direct proportion to how fast I made my deliveries and pick ups. So I kept a pee cup and a roll of paper towels in my little black five-gear Nissan Pulsar. I made sure to wear a skirt. (Panties optional). And yeah, well, you know…I just did what I needed to do. Not the safest girl in traffic, I admit. But I never had an accident (with other motor vehicles or with the pee cup) and was always on time.
I’m hella fun on a road trip.
Yours in eternal weirdness, and in love,