III

GETTING DRESSED FOR THE BIG DAY

Although my sexuality is still largely theoretical at this point, I hope that I don’t actually LOOK gay—you know, all pursed and twittery with big, bulgy, “gay” eyes. It’s a new school after all. I need to test the waters first before I break out the tiaras and leg warmers. I’ve given this a lot of thought, as you can imagine.

OKAY, HERE IT IS. MY OUTFIT:

It’s totally masculine.

Nobody will suspect a thing.

I’m going with a whole retro-new wave/Vivienne Westwood/pirate look. Fab, right? What’s straighter than a pirate? Ruffled lace shirt, unbuttoned down to THERE. High-waisted blue pants, practically sprayed on. Nothing gay about that, right? Only rednecks and Eurotrash dare to wear pants that tight and vulgar.

A thrift store military jacket in Prussian blue, a crimson sash, some rags tied in my hair. . . .

Then what? Pearls?

Cap’n Crunch hat?

No, no, no. It’s all too much. Well, maybe one gold tooth. So, I guess you’d say I was doing more of a “post-pirate” look. I’m a pirate who’s getting out of the life. But slowly, you know. I’m lubbin’ the land but missing my parrot. Yarg.

MY FACE: I’m going for that “no-makeup look” that straight boys do. The idea, see, is to look “rested” instead of painted. I KNOW. What’s the purpose? But this is not an Adam Ant-Johnny Depp pirate. This is a farmer-friendly pirate.

So, no purple blush and just the remnants of mascara. And that’s it. Okay, and maybe just a whisper of Soiled Oatmeal eye shadow (NOBODY WILL EVEN NOTICE) and possibly a little glop of gloss. Not even a glop. More like a glip (Wet ’N Wild Sheer Puppy Snot).

I want the look to say: I’m not gay; I just flew in from Williamsburg. Where I had sex with girls! Many of them! The kind with boobs! So please don’t punch me!

That’s what I’m going for, anyway.