Tabatha Deans

MYSTERIES OF THE THRIFT SHOP
The leather purse was well worn, and obviously used often. It came in amongst a bag of assorted items, mostly an old lady’s clothes as far as my trained eye could tell. The leather was worn as if it had been used for many years, but the purse itself was not typical of an elderly lady. It was hip, kind of cool, and I considered purchasing it for myself for a moment.
I checked the pockets and secret zippered compartment inside, and came across the usual old crumpled tissues, receipts and individually wrapped peppermint candies. But I also found two slips of paper. One was a few inches wide and about five inches long, folded in half. The exposed half read “thinking of you and wishing you the very best on your special day.” On the back of this was a shopping list, calling for toasted oatmeal, coconut, cinnamon bread and wet wipes. Tucked in between the folded paper was a pawn ticket for one “RX ladies watch, blue dial.”
Hmmmmm. Any ideas?

DRAG QUEENS ROCK!
I ventured across the street to Hamburger Mary’s last night—a local charity was hosting a show, with the proceeds going to a good cause. All I can say is WOW! The evening began with five local semi-celebrities taking the stage, four men and one woman. Each contestant told their story of coming out of the closet, and revealing to the world that they were gay/lesbian. Some told stories of acceptance and love, but one young, hot, catholic man told of parents who denounced him and his evil ways. It was hard for me to fathom that a parent would not love their child for any reason, and although I’ve always considered myself a supporter of gay rights, I realized last night that I really didn’t have any idea what many of these people went through.
The feeling in the room was not that of a usual barroom. There were no thoughts of who was going to hook up with who, who was cute/handsome/pretty. There was only a feeling of fun and unity. It was almost freeing, being in a room where there was no judgment at all. As I listened to stories of persecution and rejection, I noticed there were quite a few elderly people in the room. I thought how nice it was they were open-minded enough to support the gay and lesbian community. As the night wore on, I realized that many of these old people were in fact gay, and have been for a very long time, way before it was even remotely acceptable. One of the contestants was a 61-year-old gentleman who had only recently wed his long-time love. Another was a younger woman who told of being physically abused because of her sexuality.
I felt slightly ashamed of myself, having claimed to be a supporter of all rights, yet not fully understanding what these people still have to fight for everyday. And love is love. Why do we, as a society, feel the need to dictate who somebody can love? Why does society equate sex with love, when in reality it’s only a tiny part of a lifelong relationship?
The contestants were taken backstage for a make-over by some of Denver’s best drag queens, and while we waited for their transformations we were entertained by drag queens who took to the stage, dancing and singing. I was amazed at the performance, although my brain was conflicted. How can a man look so much like a woman? Why would they want to? How can their cleavage look so real? They wore beautiful gowns and costumes as they shook their hips and worked the room for tips. I must admit I was jealous of their legs, which all seemed to be long, tone and looked good in fishnet stockings. If I had met most of these women on the street, I would not have known they were actually men. I guess the conflict in my brain added another level to the entertainment, because I watched, mesmerized, all evening.

October 23, 2011 - Posted by Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized