on the greatest expectations

and the power of hope

Every moment of every day, I am certain that my drama teacher knew exactly what she was doing.

Sure, there were hoop skirts that swung way down to the floor.

But then there were the hip flares, the butt bubblers, corsets and of course, the tops cut low enough for there to be a constant game of boobie basketball. Played with pennies, the goal was to score goals by tossing pennies and having them ‘caught’ by some of the ‘more developed’ young women in my high school.

Sure.

Get mad at me.

Tell me how sexist I am.

But I swear, it’s not my fault. It was my drama teacher.

Like I said from the beginning. My drama teacher knew exactly what she was doing.

She knew at a fundamental level that sex sells.

And that the only way she would get any dudes in the school play other than the queer community, was to use the oldest trick in the book: Sex. Sex sells.

It’s true! There was a girl that I saw in the school play in the tenth grade. She was wearing a low cut dress with a hoop skirt. Oh how my mind race…