I only had a costume for one of the theme dinners at RTC, the Cowboy one on Friday night. On Saturday night, my 80's prom dress didn't quite fit and my crimper turned out to not have survived over 20 years in a box, so I went with a nice dress shirt and slacks.
When I went downstairs, my nine year old son asked me what my disguise was for that night and I explained that I was being a classy lady for tonight. His reply:
"Oh, Mommy, that's not you."
Granted, he's right. I am awkward at the best of times and social events intimidate me. I will never be a graceful socialite prowling through a cocktail party with ease and sophistication. And I got a lot of laughs about that bit of commentary through the evening.
I may not be a classy lady, or even get to play one on TV, but I am a bawdy broad. As my group discovered during Dirty Talk, I have a dirty mind and very little filtering. I came up with some great creative euphemisms for naughty bits. My personal moment of pride, when coming up for alternatives for butt, I suggested "The Internet, because it's deep, dark and full of sh*t."
Women aren't generally encouraged to be sexually confident or aware. It's still something of a social taboo, especially if a gal is married, has kids, is over 30 and not shaped like Sarah Jessica Parker. Sometimes I think this is why we can go so wild when we're given the opportunity. All the sensuality gets crammed down, so when there's a socially sanctioned event, we take advantage of it.
That's one of the things I love about romances. Women in them are encouraged to embrace that part of themselves. They're rewarded for it. And that helps the men and women who read them be a little more accepting of women's sexuality in life.
It's okay that I'm not a classy lady. I'm a bawdy broad. And that's just fine by me.