dressing up

how much does therapy costs these days? it’s been a long time. thomas bought me a couple of sessions as a birthday gift around eighteen years ago,and it was surely money well spent.the doctor who was very old and wise, got the gist of my ongoing fear of nearly everything,while pressing home three important words..calm…control..confidence. i can’t say i successfully employ those virtues all of the time,but i do strive to,cause i’m prone to blowing my top…if someone experiments with my buttons,i’ll give wiggle room for a while,but if the bollox persists, it’s only a matter of yards before i vomit up lime green bile.i don’t always regret it,but often i do,knowing full well there was a better way to have handled things….calm control confidence.

as a fourteen year old teenager in northern ireland, i had therapy for roughly a year on wednesday afternoons after school….a while before the therapy,i was taken up to a hospital where they checked about my brain. it was a chilling yet painless experience..they laid me on a stretcher, greased and wired little attachments to my head,told me to relax,and when i closed my eyes i saw pretty little patterns,and that was that…my brain was fine i guess,but therapy was afoot.

the trouble started when i’d been caught missing school..i’d manage to hide from it for several months,until the school finally called my mother to ask if all was alright,but no one asked me…they just rattled up the drama into a worse state.

the reason i avoided school was because of the physical education classes. this completely private hell was born from the idea of having to take my clothes off in the smelly changing rooms for hockey or whatever else.the thought of stripping off naked in front of all those awful stinky boys, struck to the very soul of me …this nightmare escalated till it was all i thought about for roughly two miserable years….in the end they got the truth out of me. a permanent pass out of physical education classes was issued,and that was that…..funny how now you’d be hard pressed to find a keener exhibitionist…i’m forever ripping my kit off for anyone who’s standards are low enough to watch. maybe i’ve fetishised my own worst nightmare in order to cope with it.

do you ever watch that absolutely brilliant cartoon on the telly called american dad? me and thomas love it…you know during the theme tune where he jumps out of bed in his y-fronts and sings ‘good morning usa’?…well i jump out of my armchair,pull my trousers down,revealing myself in the exact same white y-fronts as american dad,while singing along with the telly..thomas loves this…it’s a million miles away from the kid who skived off school cause he was afraid of taking his clothes off in front of other cunts for hockey.

those first therapy sessions as a teenager were such a joke…the therapist would just stare at me for ages..i’d say nothing..but i wasn’t being passive aggressive,i just didn’t know how to articulate anything….she’d ask about the bowler hat and cape i often wore,but i didn’t really know why i was wearing these things…i just loved to…she’d see me flouncing around the tiny farming town in my cape and bowler while she was doing her errands…at fourteen this was my chosen attire,and i must have looked a proper fruitcake,yet somehow it kept me sane…

i’m still dressing up..but the plot thickens now i’ve discovered all these other nelly poofs who do it too.i’d really like to go for therapy again,just to find out what it all means,though these days i tend to lap up the funny side of all this…one time out here in the desert i went to a fetish party where everyone was dressed up as leathermen…skinheads and cops…the club had been greedy and packed too many into the venue, so the real police arrived to shut the party down…it was hilariously embarrassing for both sides to watch fake ravishing cops being turned over by reluctantly real cops.it really did piss on everyones fish n chips badly………hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

i’ll finish off now..a load of dentists,lawyers,and doctors are riding into the desert tonight posing as hells angels on expensive harleys among real hells angels on harleys…happy weekend to any dear soul who reads this revery .. mary fairy liquid xxxxxxx