Right Now.

*Edited 3.30.2016

 

main-qimg-4cd9d0abdd61a3f86eb8db248571686d-cRight now. This very second. Someone is thinking of you, grateful for you – just as you are. Now take a deep breath and let that truth wash over you.

I recently satiated on one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite movies (next to Shawshank, Almost Famous, Postcards From the Edge).

No matter how many times I watch these lines come to life, it ignites that part of me I sometimes forget exists:

“Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you — the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass”  – Juno (screenplay by Diablo Cody)

Hard to believe – what with my being a professional pole swinger in the 80’s and all – but when it comes to fathers – I got nothing. Nada. Bupkis. It used to really piss me off, but I’m good now.

Spend enough time in the therapy chair and even hard-core narcissists get weary of cliché.

Somewhere in the cigarette smoke-filled milieu of graduating the stripper scene in my twenties and navigating my thirties with the moxie only a born salesman can attain, I pierced the Daddy Issues umbrella. It was enough to move on from being a victim of my mother’s poor choices, to my own mid-life conundrums.  I’ve been a walking lesson to myself for decades now without any help from the family fallback card.

Therapy should come with a hole-punch card.

Welcome to treatment! Ex-stripper? Daddy issues? Self-esteem in the shitter? Punch. Punch. Punch. Only two more and your next issue is free!

How cool would it be if we could all take a pill and wake up one day, look in the mirror and see what our loved ones see. We’d all wake up where our real life bleeds over from our dreams. The fantasy life we spend so much time wishing ourselves different from who we are would be reality. We’d have that perfect body, hair, skin, waist size, career, bank account, family, spouse… whatever.

Know what’s perfect? The knowledge that nothing is. The most beautiful part of being human is knowing that we are.

And human beings are flawed. We make mistakes, fall on our asses, throw people under the bus, avoid personal responsibility, live in denial, project our issues, betray trust, and break rules.

And that’s just with the people we love.

But not all hope is lost, so open that garage door and turn off the engine, buddy.

We also have infinite measures of being able to forgive, lend a hand, support each other, share our good fortune, own our mistakes, learn from them, pull ourselves back up, teach each other, and provide compassion – not to mention unconditional love.

Right now. This very second. Someone is thinking of you, grateful for you – just as you are – as dysfunctional as you are. They know you are perfectly flawed. And love you.

So now that you’ve been reminded of your greatness – it’s a good time to cut yourself some slack.

Christine Macdonald

Jellyfish

His name was Duke. A delicious, twenty-something tall drink of London with dirty blonde hair, emerald eyes and sun-kissed abs. I usually dug the Mario’s and Antonio’s of the world, but with Duke, I made an exception. He was the precursor to David Beckham, only without the tanorexic Spice wife, four kids and bank roll. I’m not even sure he played soccer – football – whatever. But that accent. The cocky attitude. As soon as he said my name, I was all in.

As if his royal dreamyness wasn’t enough, he was the hottest new waiter at the club. If he wasn’t already shagging my friend, he would’ve been perfect. Fucking hot guys. Always gay or married.

Duke and Maddie weren’t technically married, but they shacked up just days after they met. She chose “Madison” as her stage name, honoring her mid-western roots, and if possible, was even more stunning than her English prince. It’s fascinating to watch two beautiful freaks of nature meet for the first time. It’s like they know – they’re born with winning lottery genes – but only really appreciate it when locking eyes with fellow ticket holders. So annoying. Even more so, when they end up being really cool. I wanted my aesthetically gifted friends to be assholes, just so I could hate them.

But I adored Maddie and Duke. And as much as I lusted after his piping hot, witty, heavily accented bounce-a-quarter-able-ass, I never broke the Stripper Sisterhood code of: Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Fellow Pole Dancer’s Penis.

So we became tight friends. I looked up to Maddie, who was a couple of years older and

Christine Macdonald

Stage Pillows (from Waikiki post 2)

Just arrived home from a night out visiting two clubs where I used to work. I will write about my experience tomorrow because I’m way too tired to type — but before I sleep, let me just jot a few things down so I don’t forget:

  • Rotation
  • Yuni
  • Yvonne
  • Waitresses
  • Platform shoes
  • Interviewed dancers
  • Cat
  • Bachelor party
  • Tipping
  • Metal wand
  • Cover charge
  • Taxi
  • Low rise panties
  • Tattoos
  • Drugs
  • Stage pillows

Yup. That should do it.

To read the continuation of my journey home click here.

Christine Macdonald