Everywhere, disco balls are being taken down, dismantled, sold at flea markets, their glittering little mirrors no longer reflecting: us. It is too triste. I am strangely nostalgic for bad relationships, flouncing about with huge hair on the dance floor, leg warmers and just a touch of cocaine. Can disco really be over? Now it’s kitch, retro, golden oldie material. In rest homes we’ll kick up our legs in our wheelchairs to Donna Summer, to Depeche Mode, to “Like a Virgin.”
I lay in bed thinking about Madonna, who also turned fifty when I did, and wondered if her re-re-re-invention wings were getting tired at all. I wondered if she’d started to study the obits like I do, to draw breath at the comparative youth of so many who die. I wondered if she inspected her body each morning for strange growths, if she vogued in the shower.
Will she ever get that gap in her smile filled? Does she really like yoga, or is she full of shit? Do her hormones race and surge, then suddenly retreat and hide like mine? Does she have skin tags that she puts tiny little fishnet stockings on? Does bad lighting make her sad? What will she do when she turns sixty? Will she still try to be sizzling?
I heard she sleeps in a full-body moisturizer-lined body suit. What does she do when her work day is over, after a long day of the bump and the grind? I imagined a secret stash of blueberries and rhubarb she made jam out of when no one was looking. A closetful of Clarks and Naturalizers that she gazed at longingly as she soaked her feet in a hot bath.
(photos: fanpop, jared.com, judiciaryreport.com, GoogleImages)
Ferencik, Erica (2013-04-25). Hot, Naked and Awake (Kindle Locations 161-163).
Waking Dream Press. Kindle Edition.