Pashmina lived down the hall from me and was one of the original merry pranksters (although we never called ourselves that). While SHE was blessed with a fucking awesome roommate, my own roommate, It Means Butterfly was about as passive-aggressive as they come. So rather than deal with her bullshit, I escaped to Pashmina’s room whenever possible.

Mostly to steal her booze and smoke, but you know.

Along with Pashmina, the Merry Pranksters included James, who was an RA on another floor. On James’ floor, he had a kid who had a brother who was a bouncer at a club. That kid, in exchange for…something, gave Pashmina and I fake ID’s.

I think we were supposed to give him money, but I never did because that’s the way I rolled.

The bar down the street was a college bar and pretty much so long as you showed them AN ID, they didn’t so much care if your picture showed that it you were actually Sasquatch.

But we were 19, and the ID I took showed a girl who was 30. On my best days, even now, I don’t look 30. She was also 5 foot 10 inches tall, and I’m, well, not. I’m 5’5″ and really, even in heels, I’m not like a commanding presence.

Her name was Arhontia, and she was very, very Greek. But Greek, is another one of those Middle Eastern ethnicities I can typically pass for, if you think about it really hard. But we decided that the best way to get me to pass for a 30 year old tall Greek lady was to pile on the makeup.

James immediately volunteered. So I let a not-out-of-the-closet-at-the-time-guy at my face with a makeup kit not designed for my face for my first ever trip to a bar. I sat there as the make-up was piled on. And on. And on. And on. And on.

I couldn’t see my face, but being the kind of person who wore makeup approximately 4 times a year, I began to panic slightly. But James seemed pretty happy to be working on my face, so I said nothing. Not that I could have, considering he was piling SOMETHING on my lips.

After about 30 minutes, he pronounced me done. My face felt sort of waxy and strange, but I went with it as I made my way over to the mirror to check it out.

What I found staring back at me was Aunt Becky, The Drag Queen.

Sort of like this:

Becky from the Block

Except that’s a Halloween costume. No, really, that’s me getting ready for Halloween.

Anyway. I looked exactly like a fucking drag queen. Heavy eyeliner, flourishy blush, thick, pancake foundation and lipstick that made me look like I’d just made out with a bowl of cherries. It was bad. Funny, but bad.

He scampered off before I could complain, luckily.

Because I found out later that the reason that I looked like a drag queen is because he’d had plenty of experience making up men to look like women. Several male members of his immediate family, in fact, had used his services to make them look like women over the years.

Which would be why I looked as though I’d walked off the set To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything, Aunt Becky.

Needless to say, it worked.

Now I need to strong arm Pashmina into telling the bar stories. They were awesome.


And? Today was the day for interviews!

I am here at my friend Miss Spoken’s bloggity-blog.

and here! at my home-slice Chris’s blog (Great Moment’s in Christory)(*giggles*).

Both blogs are full of The Awesome and warrant a read. And not just because I am ON THEM AS WE SPEAK, although that makes them DOUBLY awesome, I admit.

50 thoughts on “Shaved Her Legs, Then He Was A She

  1. Oh the frosty makeup! I think frost should only be found on flakes – not eyeshadow, not lip gloss, and for certain not on hair.

    PS for our drag duet let’s call ourselves Peaches N’ Cream. You can be N’Cream.

  2. To this day, there is nothing I love more than drag queen makeup. Black eyeliner and shiny white eyeshadow make my day! Guess I should grow out of it at some point…maybe next year.

  3. That sounds like it could be fun. I always wonder if the bouncer is actually looking at my ID or not. I think next time I get out to Austin I’m going to do my make up like that and switch ID’s with hubs.

    Let’s see if anyone notices.

  4. B.K. (before kids) we used to go to Gay Bingo in the city. Outrageously awesome time. First time I went I was nervous about getting hit on by gay guys. Know what? Turns out I’m not hot enough. That’s why I love women: Your standards are SO low. Thank god.

  5. I like Ed’s “B.K.” – ohhhh, the memories B.K.!

    So – It’s a lifelong goal of mine to have my makeup did by a gay. No lie. I’m jealous.

  6. Back when I was a young girl, and hugely preggo with my daughter, by best friend lived next door to a whole house full of drag queens. When they found out I was expecting, and not with the father of my baby, I ended up with 5 mother hen’s clucking around, ALL. THE. TIME.

    Since they were older, early to mid 20’s, they would dress me up with my bump, and take me out to all the gay bars all the time to show me off to their friends.

    I never needed ID when I was with the “ladies”, everyone assumed I wouldn’t be drinking, with that belly I would have assumed, too (I wasn’t, but still.) The best part for me, was after my daughter was born, everyone expected me to be back out and I never had to show an ID again. Everyone knew me after that, as the pregnant one with the drag queens, and never stopped to think if I was old enough or not. Or if they did, they figured I probably needed a drink by then anyway…

  7. This one time, I made up a friend as she headed off for work one morning. Apparently I made her look like a drag queen too. I don’t really remember it that way, but it’s probably because I was still drunk.

  8. I don’t look 30 yet either. And now I pile on the makeup to go to a business meeting so I don’t look 19!

  9. You bitch, you DON’T look 30 yet. I hate you. In a totally “I love you” way.

    Your porn name on the other blog cracked me up so bad I think I peed. Which is really not THAT uncommon, especially when I’m coughing or jumping on a trampoline.

  10. Wait, blue frosty eyeshadow is not “in”? *sigh*


    I really must stop reading these Inside Kentucky Fashion magazines šŸ˜‰

  11. To Wong Foo was on TV today. Patrick Patrick Swayze makes a pretty lady. Luigi Mario dressed as a woman always bothered me, though.

    Are you sure that’s not a picture from your audition to be on Jersey Shore? I’m pretty sure that’s the same makeup that Snooki wears.

    Don’t ask how why I know anything about that show.

  12. I went a bar that was similar (you didn’t go to school in a town that starts with P in the state you live, did you??). I was a blond/blue eyed ID – with brown hair and brown eyes. The ID was also used by multiple people as a pass-back at the same bar MANY times over (7 was our record). It worked. And fun – fun was had by all of us “Kelly”s šŸ™‚

  13. Hey – all that looks like is what several girls on my floor put on for daily wear.

    Of course, that WAS during the 1980s, when it seemed like every girl’s dream was to look like RuPaul. Good times, good times.

  14. A couple of years ago I went to a lesbian bar, and they were having a drag queen beauty contest. The winner was one of the most beautiful “women” I have ever seen.
    I thought about jumping in front of a bus it was so depressing.

  15. Dude my 1st ever underage bar experience was at a Polish Night Club (read a hall at the bottom of a community center)and I was 17 and felt like king shit I got in. (legal drinking age is 19 where I hail from.) I sneaked into a few real clubs at 18 (I made my own fake ID with a DOB print out slid under plastic it was pretty pathetic) I found if I exuded confidence I got in sometimes. It was crap shoot really. I too used to lay on the make-up. Oh the fun I had and the stories I could tell. Thanks for bringing back some happy memories.

  16. I started playing open mic at bars when I was 16. I was getting served then too. (I didn’t need any ID.)

    It always amazed me how people could get away with fake IDs.

  17. My “funny gay friend” I’ve known since high school briefly dated this guy who seemed attractive but little more than that, when I first met him. Then I had the pleasure of catching his drag show at the local club. And he was frickin’ hot! I mean, he had the Catholic school girl kind of hotness, and he had a penis. I have never had a penis, and I am way less attractive as a woman than he was. I have to admit, I liked him a little bit less after that; I’m already resentful of all the women who are prettier than me, and I didn’t love having to resent a man now too.

  18. Hey Becky, take a walk on the wild side.

    (and the Gunfighter says: Doo do do doo doo do do do do do do do do do do do! Doo do do doo doo do do do do do do do do do do dooooooo!)

  19. C’mon, Becks, don’t lie. That photo is from last New Year’s Eve.

    And this? “Heavy eyeliner, flourishy blush, thick, pancake foundation and lipstick that made me look like Iā€™d just made out with a bowl of cherries.” Pretty much describes how the make-up artist for my friend’s wedding made everyone look. Yeah, we were an elegant bunch of drag queens.

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