Costumes & Cards

I'm all too honest in relational situations. I venture scarily-close to being a sleazy billboard for a strip-club: I bare all, that is to say, in the emotion department. And I suppose this is not as much of a turn on as nudity.

I wear no costume, I've no facade but I've found that I live in a city where there are constantly occasions to become someone or -thing else. Dressing up and masking whatever's at hand is a style completely owned and honed by New Orleans.

The problem is this: I have nothing to wear. Ever. Always scampering around last minute for a costume but find I like none but my own threads and so I throw my hands up and relinquish myself to...myself.

I check the mirror and I think I'm good enough and the fact that I have no costume on is more of a costume than having one on and so this attracts--oh does it! They spend some time (oh, no more than a few days) and then realize, wait, she's not wearing a costume and this is her and that's the norm--insert question mark.

I wasn't a costume-baring lady.

And I'm not just showing the cards in my hand, oh no, as a matter of fact, I am handing them the entire deck, card by card. They get tired of holding these cards--imagine mine are about 3' long and a foot wide. I can't help it--they are the...cards I was dealt. Wow, sorry, I set that up for myself.

So, I can only imagine one of two things have to happen in order for my success to ensue someday: I must find a way to cut down the size of my cards; maybe not take all of them with me everywhere and find a safe hiding place for them or I must find a giant who can handle them and me.