Drag Race Diet: What A Steady Diet of Drag Can Do

There have been times in my life that have been so low that once I whispered to my plant how glad I was that it had stayed alive and I swear it pulled away a little.  These days all I have to do is turn on the news and immediate depression sets in.  The only thing worse than my life seems to be everyone else’s.  Like hair of the dog that bit me, I sought out some reality TV that would service, instead of suck, my soul.  Naturally I thought of Survivor and even Naked and Afraid, but they only compounded my imbalanced sense of security and daily feelings impending doom.  It was from the first moment that I heard Mama Ru utter the phrase, “If you can’t love yourself, how the HELL you gonna love somebody else?!” that I knew what my cranium craved was a daily Drag Race diet.

Thankfully there has been a decade of Rupaul’s Drag Race filmed, so I wouldn’t have to worry about my brain bucket not getting fed enough during this Drag Race diet.  Drag Race teaches you to watch your portions B.I.T.C.H (which I learned means Being In Total Control of Herself, thank you Miss Latrice Royale)!

I wish I had body dysmorphia instead of being so acutely aware that this is how I look!  Drag queens are the kings of understanding, and improving body images.  Never settle for the disparaging self-image that you were saddled with from your childhood.  Rather than raping my pocketbook while filling my mind with unattainable hopes of success through false testimonials, Mama Ru works her magic to inspire and uplift,  “Ru — pay them bitches no mind unless they’re paying your bills.”

Within the first few episodes I was “Yaaassss!” and giving it my full “Guurrrl!” and learning that there is no harm in throwing shade if you’re correct; speak your mind as long as you speak the truth.  By the time I was soaking in the seventh season I had learned more about being a worthwhile Whoa-Man than all of my years as an adult.  I am a better friend now that I know friends are like snowflakes, they disappear if I piss on them, makeup is more than finding the perfect shade of lipstick for my teeth, and I am so much more than what I ingest (see our delightfully decadent BunnyEars Cake-scapade article) I am also what I watch.

During this #MeToo mania there is no time to squat on my Yoni stoned arse while I work on a deep depression.  Now is the time to gather all my feminine wiles about me let them know I am more than a woman who can do more than #LeanIn, I am a woman who is here to #WORK!