There are advantages and disadvantages of taking your husband to a burlesque show for his birthday two days before your period starts. Mainly disadvantages. And really only one advantage. Let's start with the lone positive: Your boobs are bigger? Hormonal swelling is working in your favor when you decide to stuff yourself into a corset for your man's birthday. Also, you believe that since you are armed with a corset you are just as hot as any stripper hopes to be. Your secret mission is to get on stage. You actually think this even when you are going to the Forty Deuce Club.
Here is an array of disadvantages: 1. Your boobs are way too big in a corset. And your husband says all night, "What would the girls like to drink?" "I'm glad the girls could come out for my birthday." At any other time of the month you'd be loving this: You'd make the "girls" talk back shaking them around. But when you are PMS'ing this seems degrading and sexist. What's everyone looking at? Just keep your eyes on the stripper show, will you?
2. As you laugh off the utter mentioning that you have problems seeing a mild strip show with your husband -- ahahahaha, Jealousy and Bitter Envy, I laugh in your face because I am secure and open and hip, ahahaha! -- your heart actually seizes into a freeze-dried mast the second the first girl slinks her way onto the stage wearing the rad-est see-through night gown with matching fringe-beaded panties and bra where she precedes to crawl her way across the bar, thong in patrons' face. You break out in sweats and yelp out a half-assed, "whoohoo," as she astoundingly hoists herself upside down up with bionic strength by grabbing the ceiling beam. She does the splits against the ceiling beam and you've secretly fallen for her yourself.
3. Your man is too reassuring. Telling you you're hot the entire time. Nice caresses on the arm, kisses on the head. And though he'll tell you it's to let you know that he thinks you're the hottest girl in the room, you believe he's just turned on by all the tramps on stage and you're just easy access. Men are pigs!
4. You realize that you would really enjoy this if you were ovulating. Or not with your husband. Burlesque of the 40's and 50's seems ironically empowering. You feel an urge to hand make tassels with a feminist symbol on them and take a few courses in modern dance. Or at least stretch more.
5. Later, when you and your husband are turned on a bit by the skin shaking and the upside down antics and the rope swinging -- no ones admitting anything! --, you believe you can't live up the calf-behind-the-ear move, nor do you have a cheeseless ass, and you feel hesitant, shy almost. (Fucking PMS)
BUT, luckily you've had enough alcohol to squash the evil PMS voices and you bust out of the corset without using hands because you have a few skills of your own.
I love my husband because he’s kind of a dick. But he’s soft with me and his lip quivered at our wedding. I love my daughters. They’re brilliant and funny, and I’m here to kick down mountains that get in their way. I’m a vegan, and all is right in my world because of it. I can still beat the neighborhood in HORSE because I have a bad-ass set shot. Justice is served well through fair food, and scarcity would be a myth if we shared more, damn. Yo soy una mezcla which leaves me mixed up sometimes. My commute bike’s name is Loops and she’s my favorite kind of car. I wish I had written Chronicle of a Death Foretold. I’ve endured 54 hours of tattoo work. But above all, I fiercely believe in the underdog.
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" - Kerouac (As told to me by Marigoldie)