losing my v card.

ok, not really. i’m not exactly an old french whore or anything, but i am 34 and divorced… you do the math.

but there is an equally scandalous V word that i have been keeping a bit of a secret lately- VEGAN.

now, i’ve been a vegetarian for almost 5 years now- and that’s no big deal. and for the entirety of that 5 year period, i’ve clutched desperately to my dairy and eggs. oh, i’ll get cage free. oh, i’ll get local. oh, i’m pretty sure that’s responsibly farmed. and i did it not necessarily because i really believed those things i was telling myself, but because cheese and eggs and butter are so ungodly delicious, that i couldn’t fathom giving them up. not ever.

looking a little pastie.

a couple of months ago, i took my top off in a bar full of strangers and lived to tell the tale. i promised to give you all the full rundown sometime in the indeterminate future… well, that future is now- and this piece is 2 STRUTs for the price of one (one as a STRUTter and one as a not so casual observer). it’s posted on over at the observer, but their direct link is a little screwy right now, so you can find the piece in its entirety below. and in case you’re local and didn’t get a chance to see/feel/taste/participate in the carnage that was my  STRUT performance, i’ll be shakin it one final time tomorrow (october 14th) at geno’s. come support/join/ogle me, or at least come point and laugh.

Confessions of a late night STRUTter- A lesson in bringing it.

As a woman on a firm trajectory toward her mid-thirties who packed on an extra 30 lbs. 2 years ago and is still using “I got divorced” as an excuse for her somewhat doughy physique, one might not guess that I’d be jumping at the chance to get mostly naked in a room full of strangers. Two months ago, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that either. But then, burlesque happened.