I just heard Corey Hart's rendition of Can't Help Falling in Love. How dreamy is that? It's fitting, actually.
I was all set to shower and bop around to one of the Queer As Folk soundtracks this morning, but then thought better of it. I wasn't feeling trendy and modern and lithe today. My inner twink who models for Abercrombie and Fitch for a little extra Saturday night E money was not itching to get out on this bright winter morning. Gay club anthems were not going to be powerful enough to release my inner goddess.
I needed help from an expert. I needed a man who started out sexy, got bloated and fat, was killed by his toilet bowl, and yet still retains near-god status.
I needed The King belting out The Wonder of You. Over and over.
It doesn't matter that I fit into my new clothes. It's how I look... it's how I feel... and let's face it... I feel like I'm starting to bulge. I don't know. It could be my weight-addled imagination, but this morning, I needed help. This morning, I needed those bulges to parlay into 1950's Pin-up Girl rather than K-mart Shopper In Stretch Pants.
It doesn't matter that I just got a fabulous new cut, a smashing new colour. This morning it was playing bad radio - lots of static, no volume at all. So I had Elvis step in, and I start singing along, belting out over his honeyed tones and the roar of my blow dryer. Together we turned Are you Lonesome Tonight into a mighty duet, and at the end of it, my hair was a cross between Lulu and June Cleaver. Retro chic, darlings. I just needed to find the right groove.
So I conquered this morning, with a little help from Elvis. And tomorrow I need to start it all over again. Sometimes I wonder whom I'm doing it for. Whoever he is, he better step up soon... there's only so many mornings I can bring forth the power of the King of Rock 'n' Roll....
0 comments so far