I attended a super swanky event on Monday night. Invited by the tallest, smartest, still-so-in-loviest couple I know, they paired me up with a cologne-ad handsome “date” who was all sorts of charming. I sat three feet away from a star, and our waiter appropriately gauged my enthusiasm for refills. All snowy school weeks should be ushered in with a boozy evening in formalwear.
A particular highlight for me was gaining outfit approval from a drag queen. An Amazonian with astonished eyebrows, a headdress, and much larger falsies than my own gave me the once over and announced, “I love your outfit. I would totally wear that.” I’ve arrived. Mid-twenties Britt with a closet full of Ann Taylor matchables never expected to own anything that would be coveted by a man named Destiny. Of course, mid-twenties Britt would also never have guessed she’d be growing out a head of hair from scratch. But for the first time (in a long, long time) there were no questions about the etiology of my closely cropped cut.
I’m still practicing funnier, deflecting answers to hairdo inquiries. My almost-Diana ‘do is less and less a dead give-away, but still provides the possibility of sneaking the dreaded disease into an otherwise lovely night of fundraising. I never shy from sharing a breezy spiel that ties up a terrifying year with a pretty bow, and deters any utterances of prognosis (blah, never say this word near wig-owning women). Certainly, An Evening Without Cancer is an added bonus to An Evening Without Children. And on Monday night, because no one asked, I was just another shorthaired girl in sequins. Gala Monday was my Fat Tuesday: bubbly indulgences, Art, movie stars, drag queens, witty whispers, scrumptious little cookies, and truly lovely friends who might not realize how great the gift of glittery gluttony would be for this gal.
Later I plan to get all ashy and serious. Lent has begun and the following forty days will be dry. Britt Without Bubbles. Because a season of sobriety may dampen my usual jokiness, Steve Safran promises to keep drinking in my stead. I am so frequently asked about my grumpy guest blogger, that I commissioned an About Steve page from my funny friend. Much like me alongside any man in size 14 stilettoes, Britt and Stevie make an unexpected pair: Churchy Jesus Cancer Girl and her Snarky Jewish sidekick chiming in as Heeb Meets Breast. I warned the writing might suffer (like Jesus). Lent: forty days of horrible jokes. Apologies in advance.
No higher compliment than outfit accolades from the likes of these ladies.
Blooms and Bubbles 
Besides you,who was THE star?????
I’m the one on the left.
I’m glad your religious post got FP’d. Your blog’s wonderfully funny. And funnily wonderful. One thing I think we can both agree on (despite the religious differences) is that light can come from darkness, and you do a great job in demonstrating that. Fructose filled kudos to you both.
This is so nice. And we’re in agreement. And now I’m following you.
I’ve followed yours thrice now, but WP keeps telling me that I’ve not. Argh gah bajah!
Nothing like a drag queen being awesome. They make me feel better when I’m think I’m not the hottest I could be. Also if I met you. I’m sure I wouldn’t even notice your hair. I mean come on we have the buzz cutting Britney Spears of the world. So I wouldn’t have thought twice.
My huge curly hair (and eyelashes and eyebrows) never came back huger and curlier like the oncology team promised. Now it is a little Gollum like, thin and a little curly if I work really really hard. I have a post coming out in the next few weeks on “Chemo’s Wear on Hair”. I hope your hair loves you more than mine.
The hair… the hair. I feel like a have a discussion about it every single day, right? Do you like it short? Are you growing it out? You’re so lucky you look good with it that way! I could NEVER have short hair. It’s so curly! Was it curly before? It’s so dark now! Have you gotten it cut yet? But all I hear is this: Cancer? Cancer? Cancer! Cancer? Blah blah blah Cancer.
Im so sorry for bringing up a sore subject. I am, thankfully, not asked much anymore about it. I just live with the consequences as quietly as I can, except when I discuss it on wordpress.
I saw “drag queen” in your tag cloud and had to click it. I’m so glad I did. This is magnificent.
I would do cartwheels for the chance to get all gussied up and part-eeeey with fabulous grown ups and drag queens. If a queen ever called out my outfit as fabulous my head would explode with pride, so kudos.
It’s so fun to have you sneaking around the site! It was interesting to re-read this post one year later, now that I have almost long-ish hair. Because people google “drag queen” every day, this post gets more traffic than just about everything else I’ve written.
That’s hilarious. I wrote a post about boobs and that gets a ton of traffic too. I’ve seen people land on it by searching “saggy” “wtf titties” “boobies” “wife’s boobs” funny stuff. Which post was freshly pressed??
The Atheist Jew and Churchy Jesus Girl one! It was super fun to write with Steve, and I feel like I have that discussion over and over and over.