Shit Happens.

We all need support; this could be support from our friends, family , or even our bras. But no matter what kind of support it is that we made need, it is undeniably evident that we all need support. It keeps us level headed and grounded. We need "that person(s)" to talk us through our toughest times, congratulate us on our successes, and to force us back on to the stage when we have explosive diarrhea and are about to shit in our lederhosen. You know, that person.

No, you didn't just mis-read that, I almost shit in my lederhosen once in a play.

I was in Hansel and Gretel, I was playing Hansel (does anyone else see how I was type casted in all of these plays? Performing as the blonde fat kid?). We were doing the show at the Alabama Theatre, a really beautiful old style theatre with plush curtains and gold plated everything, fringe everywhere, a gay man's sanctuary. At the time though I didn't care a damn about those vintage embellishments, I was so ready to be in that spot light girl, I had my lipstick on, my false eyelashes were at the ready (I realize that a little foundation would have done the trick, but any chance I had, I looooved putting on that make up!) and I was vocalizing in my German boy regalia. We were doing two shows that day, and the first one went off without a hitch, and in the middle of my deep swan-like bows I felt a little churn in my stomach, I thought it was just because I hadn't eaten, being the diva that I was I was only nibbling on some bits of tissue and room temperature water before I took to the stage, so that had to of been it.

I stupidly ate a hamburger with all of the little peasants in the ensemble in between shows, and felt much better, for the time being.

Let's jump ahead a little bit through the story, we are past the time that the evil stepmother (who was played by this crazy girl who had a lesbian mother who wore black fishnet stockings, a corduroy mini-skirt, and TeeVa's) left them in the forest, Hansel had already left the breadcrumbs, and they had already been captured by the witch. As I laid there on the stage pretending to be captured, I felt that rumble in my panties. I mean RUMBLE in the JUNGLE kind of rumble. I had to shhhiiiiiiit! And I mean, I had to go RIGHT THEN!! By some stroke of luck the good Lord above us (thank ya Jesus), let the curtain fell, because they were performing a scene in front of it during a set change. I hoped my ass up, and hauled it to the little fairy's room. My mother, Miss Amy, who was THANKFULLY the backstage chaperon mom that day, came clicking in her size 7 Balenciaga's into the bathroom behind me. It was that damn hamburger that did it, I just knew it, one of the cretins in the ensemble had tried to poison me so they could perform in the next show instead of me!

As I sat there, for what seemed like the next 56 minutes, I was bawling (wasn't wearing waterproof mascara, and ended up looking like By George) and in a screaming whisper was yelling at my mother " I CAN'T DO THIS!! I AM SO ASHAMED!!!"
People were knocking on the door, asking if I was OK, rushing me to get back out there before the curtain came back up, and Miss Amy, with all her might, jerked my ass off that toilet and said something I will never forget: "You WILL dry up right this minute because I did not spend all this time and effort to have you sitting here crying like a little baby because "you don't feel good & your stomach hurts". Get out there and give that audience what they paid to see, A SHOW!"

With that, Miss Amy opened the door and literally, threw me (she has Wonder Woman strength) back on the that stage as the curtain was creeping back up.

It may have been that I had just given birth in the bathroom, or that I was completely horrified that my mother may beat me senseless if I walked off that stage, but what ever it was, something in me made me finish that show. There were no swan like bows, just a quick little curtsy, and I was out of there.

I am mortified that this event ever occurred, I usually don't talk about it, but I feel this may be one of the greatest examples of support that I have experienced. Sometimes it takes your mother, hovering over you in a tiny bathroom in the wings of one of the most historic theatres in the South, screaming at you to get your ass on that stage before she unleashes a wrath terrible to behold upon you, that makes you realize how much she supports you. This may be sounding like my mother is a horrid stage mom from pageant queen hell, but she is quiet the opposite, all she wants is for me to succeed, and if it hadn't been for her picking me up by my lederhosen and chucking me back on to that stage, I might still be in that bathroom. She was letting me know that she was there for me, in a strange & slightly convoluted way, that I wouldn't respect until years later.

That is my version of support, someone who can help you through your "shittiest times". I hope this translates over to you..maybe I am just loco.

PS Thank YOU all for supporting me in this blog. It is great to know that I have people, other than Miss Amy reading this. And a special thank you to Sally, you are single handedly making me a better blogger day by day! You rock girl!! SPARKLES FOR SALLY!

xoxox
William