It was a friend’s birthday party a few months ago. He decided to have a Lady-Gaga (in spirit, at least) themed party – Born This Way – “OMG <liz> you should come as Elizabeth!”
Sounded like a good plan. Scary. But I figure, as I have been a lot recently, if I don’t do it now, when will I ever do it?
So I packed up the breasts and the wig (long, black) and skinny jeans (long, black) and heels (high, red) and backup shoes (low, red) and a t-shirt (My Little Pony, black) and the makeup and a hairband, stuffed it safely into my bag, and off to work I went.
The day went well enough, apart from all the paranoia of literally carrying around the biggest secret of my life, and imagining all the possible ways that I could get discovered.
Maybe there’d be a bomb alert, and all bags going in and out of the building would be searched. Maybe someone would trip and fall by my desk, and hit their head on my bag, a heel puncturing a hole in their temple, blood and brains all over my shoes.
“DEAR GOD, WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN THERE!?”
…and other such insanity.
But then 6pm rolled around, and we got on Muni, headed for the Castro. I got changed at my friend’s place, and I waited awkwardly with him and another female friend for more people to arrive.
A knock on the door. I guess this is it.
HOLY SHIT IT’S SOMEONE ON MY TEAM.
Ok, granted I knew the guest list in advance, so it wasn’t a HUGE surprise. But still. Heart pounding. What do I do.
Oh hi… My name’s Elizabeth :)
He didn’t let on that he knew who I was. I was pretty sure I had found the Holy Grail.
OMG I’m passing! It’s a miracle!
We small-talked, him, my friends and I (we all work together), us thinking he didn’t know who I was. Except, of course he did – he was playing along, and FSM bless him for it! More people I knew arrived, they knew who I was – it was a shock for one, but not in a bad way – he was more concerned with what he should call me! I told him I didn’t really care, which for people I know, is probably true :)
So then, after a few Jello Shots (DEAR GOD) we ventured out into the Castro. Found a bar, and stayed there for a while. I basically sat down for a few hours, because as it turns out, walking in heels on a carpet is much easier than walking in heels in the street, on a hill, and then in a club. Yipes.
I got no hassle. I got no awkward treatment from the people I knew for whom it was a shock. Sure, I got the odd glance from a stranger, but fuck ’em.
All in all, a pretty good night, and another step out into the great beyond :)
Oh and here, have a dark and grainy photo of me and one of my friends :D
(Another post from the series Being Out.)