So yesterday was all about boobs, or boob-like objects. Today? Vaginas. I guess I could write about spleens or appendices or something, but what fun would that be?
I’m off tonight to audition for a V-Day charity performance of The Vagina Monologues. The work’s author, Eve Ensler (who I totally wouldn’t mind being when I grow up), allows it to be performed on or around Valentine’s Day to raise money for domestic violence causes.
I have always loved The Vagina Monologues, for a lot of reasons. First of all, it’s largely brilliant, touching and witty and sharp and sad and provocative in the way more things should be and most things aren’t. Also, it uses with great frequency and relish a word that makes many people squirm who desperately NEED to squirm. The Conservative Republican with the stupid haircut who dresses like he doesn’t own a mirror and sits three cubicles away from me? Vagina! Vagina! Vagina!
It would give him hives.
Plus, one of my goals for the year was to try to get out and act more. Just auditioning for this small thing feels like a step in the right direction; like I’m accomplishing something. Go me.
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