On Wednesday morning, I was popping around a new mall district looking for something nice to wear to a function this weekend.
Yes, that is code for I can't show up to this thing in hooded sweatshirts and purple Saucony's.
Only problem was the store hadn't opened yet.
So I scooted myself into a new French bakery and took a side table, near the half wall. The place was gorgeous and very much how I envision a Parisian bistro to be.
My server came over and before long, he softened my introvert and we were both genuinely smiling.
"You know, I gained 25 pounds my first month working here," he divulged glancing at my lightly powdered waffle. "The food here is so good that I didn't even notice I was two sizes bigger. And I can't have that because I'm a professional drag queen."
Of course you are. I love you.
I explained how I was getting back on the food wagon and usually didn't really eat carbs but was making an exception because all the Ginger Ale swimming around in my belly needed some bulk. Because, you know, it's imperative to defend your eating habits to a perfect stranger.
"Girl, you got nothing to worry about, how tall you are," Remona declared, giving me the once over with his eyes.
"Tall girls still put on the weight too, Baby," I responded like I was born in the dirty south. "Most of mine lands in my hips," I prattled on, giving him all kinds of inappropriate TMI.
"That's ok, nobody minds some gorgeous hips. Let me see. Stand up, Girl."
And I did.
"Twirl, Honey. Show me whatchyou got."
And I did!
"Yeah, Honey. I do see some thick hips. But you know how to work it well. Just keep wearing those solids down the middle with some cover up on the sides. A nice blazer won't hurt."
Thick hips. Solid colors. Cover up on the sides. I made a What To Wear Because My Drag Queen Server Says So list in my head. So guess who went shopping for solid colors, cover ups, and a nice blazer right after feeding her thick hips with the most delicious waffle confection ever?
I will show you a picture soon.
Maybe I'll even twirl.