NTKOG #62: The kind of girl who channels her inner diva and hits the town with obscenely platinum wannabe-starlet locks. In wig form, natch, ’cause who really has the IQ points to burn for bleach?
I am: a brunette, through and through.
I am not: especially desiring of attention through the way I dress. Unless it’s for something stupid-awesome like my machete necklace or pipe-smokin’ fedora.
The Scene: Saturday night, early evening, on the heels of my non-disastrous date. Remember that time I put on a Lady Gaga-ish blonde wig and slipped out into the sunset? Okay, so, for the cinematic date exit, that was a stroke of genius. For the duration of the T ride over to my wig-themed pub crawl? Aaaaaawk.
Yes, I took this with my iPhone in a bar bathroom. Because I am ALL CLASS, y'all.
The walk over to the T station, I was trailed by a few high schoolers who kept whispering and giggling just out of my auditory range. Stop obsessing, I chided myself, but by the time we all stood at the T platform, it was obvious that I wasn’t just making it up: they were definitely commenting. Whatever, guys. You’re in high school. Talk to me when you don’t still think handjobs are cool.
Then, when I took my spot on the T, people’s attentions grew more intense. The people around my handhold polite-awkwardly averted their gaze (no doubt wondering why my social life is so much cooler than theirs). But the worst was a leather-tanned WASPy lady on the other side of the car, weighed down by dozens of boutique carrier bags and flanked by a few botoxic minions. Gossip Girl: The Minivan Years, is what I’m getting at.
She sat there staring at me, then nudged each of her friends in turn and shot them significant glances at me. At one point, she caught my eye and shook her head in slow motion. The breaking point was when a total stranger stood in front of her, and she violated all rules of T etiquette by nudging the stranger and mouthing “Look!” over in my direction. Being TKOG, I strode across the car and grabbed a handhold close to the lady.
TKOG: So you seem to be admiring my hair.
Serena Van der Bitch: It’s very unusual.
TKOG: I’m not sure what you think is so weird about this. I mean, I’m in the flush of my youth, it’s a Saturday night and it’s drinkin’ time, soooo…
SVdB: Oh. I was wondering if–
TKOG: Dude, did you think it was a chemo wig? Look at this raggedy mess.
SVdB: No, I was just wondering–
But at that point, the train came to a stop, so I shot her my best Mets-steps bitchface, spun on my (four-inch) heel, and stormed off haughtily.
Not long after, I was sipping my first beer at the wig pubcrawl and a gorgeous girl in a similarly platinum array joined our group and squealed: “Do I look okay? I must look horrible! The whole ride over on the T, I was convinced everyone thought I was a drag queen.” I immediately assured her that she was so feminine, no way anyone would ever–ohhhhhhhhh shit.
Searching and fearless personal inventory of my look: Platinum blonde Anna Nicole Smith hair. Broad shoulders. 5’11″ in heels, with another few inches of teased roots.
Shit, dudes. Shit. I guess that explains why she was staring. Man, though, I wish I’d known what the T-bagger was thinking at the time, ’cause I totally would have started hitting on some straight-laced business men in my best husky drag queen voice. That really would have given her something to talk about.
The Verdict: Hey, so you know my little rule about how you’re not really the center of the universe so quit obsessing over yourself because nobody even notices all the weird stuff you’re doing in public? Um. That doesn’t apply to accidental drag, apparently. Awk. But I’d totally do it again because, dude, if there is one thing TKOG is down with, it is the blurring of gender roles. And pushing boundaries for uptight on-lookers!
As for the wig crawl, on the other hand, I’d scarcely advocate it. A few sips into my second beer, it became apparent that the girl I was talking to was in fact gorgeous-insane, and halfway through her second blow-by-blow description of her breast reduction surgery, I returned the baby blue swarovski crystal headband she had slipped onto my wig (without my permission!) and beat a hasty retreat.
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i have no more comment than to say that this made me LOL and has totally reset the mood for my day.
your ideas are genius, your writing hilarious!
TEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE.
I used to be in drag shows in college. Best time of my life!!!! Too bad you didn’t know ‘cuz you’re right, that would’ve been effing hilarious!
I’ve always wanted to “spin on my heels”… or at least write it, although I don’t really get the chance. Maybe add it the List? Hmmm. It just sounds, I dunno, fun and flirty. Very Emily Giffin, whom I love (guilty!).
As for the high schoolers, vomit. Major. They should all just cocoon until they turn 20 or something. It’s my opinion that most humans from ages 13-19 are fairly useless.
Caveat: Most, not all.
p.s. totally wear that wig to our virtual cocktail fest, k?
Wait, did you actually say “flush of my youth”? That not the kind of verbiage (NTKOV) you can just casually wield around strangers!
Guilty as charged! I’ll admit, with some embarrassment, that I use obnoxious phrases like that all the time…
HAHAHA I doubt they thought you were in drag… Maybe they were going to ask if your hair was real? I want to go to a wig crawl! Or maybe I’ll just wear a wig for the heck of it!
HAAAA. oh man, tranny wouldn’t have occurred to me either, although i share your 5’11″ in heels, broad-shouldered build. now i kind of want to dress like one on PURPOSE.
Dude. DRAG PARTY! I’m down. (I’m always down for a drag party.)
I’ve always wanted to get a group together and just take over a bar with dragginess. Wouldn’t that be fun?
Dear, what concerns me most in this post is that you make reference to the handhold in the subway. One hopes that you are wearing surgical gloves or have a moist wipe handy to clean the surface before touching it.
It is a lovely photo and not to interfere, but on second thought, let’s flip that wig back into your purse. I think that’s the place for it, don’t you?
Not only did I hold the handhold, but now I’m going to touch Sister! Muah-ha-ha! Flu season be damned.
Also, you don’t think I look better as a blonde? Tsh.
Hilarious post! I wish I could pass for a man as a woman but I’m too short to do drag. :(
I want to be you when I grow up!
A couple of Halloweens ago, I had the ex-Boyfriend pick out my outfit. Never. Again. He wanted me in a skanky nurse costume, with fishnets, white heels, and a blonde wig. Everyone at the party kept saying “Oh, you’re a nurse.” I said, “No, I’m a drag queen.”