Hedwig ‘n Me or, Don't Think Too Much

You wouldn’t think that a drag queen and a rock climber have much in common. I didn’t either last night, and I was simply hoping to get through the performance without falling asleep. Even the crowd shouts and Hedwig’s body gyrations reminiscent of eighties punk rock shows didn’t move me. I hardly understood her songs under her gravelly voice, and the storyline was hard to follow at times – the accent along with my myopic stare (I always feel that way when I’m wearing my glasses) made me feel half blind and deaf. Urgh

But, Hedwig ends up practically naked onstage at the end (sorry to ruin the surprise), a seething heap of boy skin over bones, clad in black boy shorts, spiky boots and elbow gloves. And he (she?) rises up and sings her heart out one more time, a towering mass of sweat and sparkly eye shadow and ends triumphantly glorious, chest heaving, the painted smile larger and as permanent as the Cheshire cat’s. In spite of myself, I smiled in approval and recognition of what I’ve been lacking.

I’ve been scared.

I had some success (Heinous), and I thought about it. Too hard and long, and I decided all I could do was fail. So I let the little things get in the way, and an emptiness flooded my life where my dedication had been. I ate to fill the hole, and set myself back about five pounds and two weeks (oh, this honesty is killing me here) on my project.

It’s all a learning experience, right?

Last night I saw this guy, cross-dressing outrageously, singing and putting on accents and jumping up and down in spiky high heeled boots for ninety minutes and tearing off clothes until he wore less than most Europeans at the beach, and I admire that kind of dedication. That’s what I was afraid of, of looking like him. He looked so happy, I though, “it couldn’t possibly be that bad.”

So I’m back. The hole is filled once again with climbing, a dedication to myself, a gift to myself. I CAN do it, I CAN face my fear, and I will. Over and over again.

PS – what’s funny is that last night we watched Vertical Frontier, a documentary about Yosemite climbing that didn’t do a thing for me. Watching Hedwig was a head trip. Just what I needed.