When the new year comes around many things happen. I turn another year better and am reminded of childhood birthdays past when I would receive one gift for both Christmas and Birthday which completely royally sucked. I’ve told (and loving telling) the story about being the third baby born in 1968 in Nashville, TN. They forced labor on a woman who won the prizes for birthing the first of the year and at eighteen I graduated high school with her son. Music City U.S.A. is a small, small world.
THE STORY CONTINUES HERE…
We just got in from Kiyosaku where we enjoyed our annual Sushi and Sake Oblivion for New Year’s Eve. It just happens to be my 45th birthday tomorrow, as well. Oh, what a joy having your birthday on New Year’s Day you must be thinking. Ah, my dear reader. Stop it. You’re being silly. After years of repressed youth not only dealing with receiving just one present for both Christmas and birthday but also the no-class-party-because-of-Xmas-break syndrome I had to overcome, I got into my young adult years where things should have gotten better. Eh…
When I would scoot out to the clubs for New Year’s Eve in hopes to get a special kiss from a familiar stranger I also came face-to-face with more repression. The clock strikes midnight. Auld Lang Syne plays while I fight back the tears (that song kills me) and everyone shouts HAPPY NEW YEAR! A few people remember to also wish me a quick Happy Birthday and move about dancing to gay club music, circuit party, et al. There’s my celebration. Whoopee. The next day everyone would be so hungover that no one would care. Oh, the years of personal therapy through an assortment of mood miracles.
However, since I’ve gotten more mature I have realized it is what it is and to make it what I want it to be. As in life… I treat my birthday how I see fit. In most recent years, we find ourselves in Las Vegas sinning in the city or enjoying the culinary exploits of the finer places in Palm Springs for a special dinner. I can’t hang with the party club kids anymore nor want to. I used to chase the dawn and now find myself in bed by 10 p.m. on most nights. And the fact that I’m entering a national pageant to have the responsibly of staying out in clubs to wee hours as the first Mr. All American Gent makes me giggle quietly. Bring on the Red Bull, I’ll need wings.
Last evening a few close friends came over for an impromptu birthday moment which made me feel very special. We toasted the new year ahead and to me, of course. I don’t normally make any deal about turning another year but I thought, why not?! The next few months are geared directly towards the pageant and as my drag closet explodes with costumery, anticipation and excitement continues to grow within. I’m so ready for this. My DJ Mac Valentine is putting fierce finishing touches on my talent mixes while I discover E6000 glue worms around my knuckles from bodacious blinging. Category is… Project Runway Realness.
Overall, the past year has been really good. Health-wise: I’m still standing on my own two and smiling. Work-wise: I just passed the 8-year-mark and am happy to be where I am. I feel appreciated. Family-wise: Jacques and I have never been stronger and the furry little ones are spoiled like only dogs can be by two fabulous daddies. Pageant-wise: Generous sponsors have provided me the means to bring elements that have never been seen before. I’m truly blessed.
Wishing you THE GREATEST THINGS in Life, Love and your very own Pursuit of Happiness. Take Thirteen!