Saturday, January 5, 2008

Christmas Pageant - 5


Dinner: Organic romaine hearts with balsamic and fresh herbs, baked garlic chicken with roasted vegetables, bread. For dessert Panties baked brownies served with vanilla ice cream. The girls all preferred tea although Panties was ready with freshly ground coffee with cream. Miss B was having a good time with her guests while keeping mental track of the evening. She sent Panties to change for another performance. Panties slipped off her dress and picked the stretchy costume from the hanger. She dressed quickly, checked her makeup and hair and stepped out the door. No one quite gasped, but they were wide-eyed as Panties came out in a pink tutu. The girl scout uniform would have been enough, or the cheerleader’s outfit. But a tutu is so extreme. Just the color, the cut of the garment, the way the upper thighs and panty are never really concealed, the way the pink skirt sticks out and brushes everything within two feet, the sound it makes. Except for Miss B they were too polite or surprised to laugh, but they passed around the camera and they stared and stared and stared(except for Miss Di who kept dropping her eyes, almost in embarrassment)without apology, Panties was intensely aware of the flash (Miss T with the camera) going off, the very pleased look in Miss B’s eyes (“I told you!”). And something mysteriously thoughtful in the expression of Miss D. (“Things will never be the same.”) Although Panties had spent much time practicing the dance and the poem, the moment was all about the tutu. Panties read The Ballerina in her sissy voice, another celebration of her menstrual period. And then she began to dance.

The Ballerina

My period is the sissy kind
I also dance ballet
I risk a bloody leotard
With every strong plié.

My menstruation lasts two weeks
Miss {B} is very kind
Tucked beneath my tutu tight
A weenis you will find.

My tampon knows a gayer hoe
And gaily hangs the string.
My jetes and my pirouette
Bring giggles to Miss { }

I squat and take the applicator
With Jergens or Ben Gay
Elastic sanitary belt
My panties dry will stay.

For half the year I’m on the rag
No menopause for me
When in my tights you’ll see the pad
For all eternity.

Miss {N} please behold the true
pathetic loser freak
When taken to the silent place
The dance is how I’ll speak.
Posted by Picasa

No comments: