Posing As Normal© The Humor of Mary Tompsett

Queen for a Day ........“Go as a guy – wear a big shirt and a pair of tights.” My friend’s advice hung in the air while I stewed about a costume for the annual Renaissance Faire. Go as a guy? Heck, I wear slacks every day to work. Here was a chance to dress up as a medieval damsel in a low-cut, foo-foo dress. But what to be? I zoomed in on several options. ........Fairy. Should I opt for big butterfly wings? Or dragonfly doubles for extra lift? How do fairies buckle their seat belts? What if I got stuck on a disgusting, gummy fly strip? Being part insect, if I used Off, would I repel myself? And golly, watch out for bug zappers! Honestly, I don’t know how Tinkerbelle handles the stress. ........Next option? Peasant. But at a faire “where fantasy rules,” who dreams of being a peasant?? I’m a peasant in real life! I think serving wench is out, too. My waitressing days are over, although occasionally my left arm still flings up to its old tray-carrying position. This happened once during an auction, and a voice bellowed “Sold!” Yours Truly took home a lifetime membership to a paintball games club. ........Maybe a princess? Pastels come to mind, along with flowers, billowing silk, and innocence. A girl in a fluffy prom dress, a cone hat with streamers and — Rewind, please. Did I say INNOCENCE? Hahaha! Scratch princess. ........But being a queen sounds yummy! I could groove on “rich and pompous” for a day. Did you know that queen costumes are subdivided into “good” and “evil”? Frankly, I can swing either way. So much depends on my caffeine and sugar levels. ........A closer look at queen dresses: “Good” = jeweled gown for a matron embroiled in the usual royal family tiffs, which are easily solved by, say, a beheading. “Evil” = ragged black dress with pointy sleeves worn by an insecure, vindictive broad in need of hormone supplements. She has a stepdaughter (see above for princess in cone hat and prom duds) shackled to a dungeon wall, clutching a ratty stuffed dragon and humming “Unchained Melody.” ........Speaking of evil queens, why don’t we hear about evil princesses? Surely, becoming a competent evil queen is hard work. Why, it takes years of stockpiling resentments and a persistent tinkering with Aunt Gertie’s poisonous mushroom recipes. As an evil youngster, she’d be casting spells with a nerf wand, right? And as a precocious teen, perhaps flirting with the royal torturers? ........I’ve seen outfits that come close to an evil princess look – what I call “Gothic Stripper Barbie.” Take your everyday body suit of chain mail from Wal-Mart, and add boots, black lipstick and multiple facial piercings. Best worn by the pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-retirement faire goers who dig those asymmetrical tan lines. ........Back to good queen, or evil? Hmmm. Black can be so slimming…. But no, I chose the good queen costume: eighty yards of blue velvet over sixteen petticoats. Sewn into the hem was a hoop with a seven-foot diameter. Leapin’ lords in lycra! A medieval gal could shoplift a piano under that skirt! ........I wore it to the faire. And…and….? Sorry, maybe someday I’ll be able to speak of the experience. When the nightmares stop. Until then, if you’re considering a “fully loaded” queen costume, a few hints: ........1. You cannot cram this dress into a car. Secure yourself with bungee cords in a pickup truck or on a flat-bed trailer and have someone haul you to the fair. Caution: Ride with feet to the rear. A hoop shirt against the wind at 70 mph…well, you can imagine. ........2. Take a cell phone. At highway speeds, the driver will not hear your screams to slow down. ........3. Watch out for tree roots. Fall down in that outfit, my darling, and a team of Clydesdales will lose their religion trying to pull you upright. ........4. If you browse the aisles of “Ye Olde Glass Shoppe,” have a credit card handy to pay for damages. ........5. Bathroom stalls are narrow. Call ahead to reserve the fire department’s Jaws of Life. ........6. A final note: If you fake your cleavage by drawing it on, don’t use an indelible black laundry pen like I — er, some people did. I wouldn’t, of course. It’s …um…something I heard about. Yeah, that’s it. Something I heard. ........Next year will be different. I plan to crochet my own chain mail tunic out of soda can pull-tabs and wear it over tights and a big shirt. But I won’t be going as a guy. With a hunk of charred wood strapped to my back, and a smoke detector for a crown — Voila! I’ll be the woman known by historians as “French Toast” and by campers as “Queen of S’mores” – Joan of Arc!