it's gettin' about that time, y'all

It's February, and it's been February for long about four days now so SURELY you've been expecting me to drop this bomb for a good while now:

VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA.

That's right, folks -- it's Vagina Monologues time. The countdown is at one week, less than that if you include our dress rehearsal on Wednesday, and even less than that if you consider that my stress level will be at DON'T TEST ME MOTHER FUCKER by Monday at the latest.

But it's a labor of true love, and y'all know that. I've opined here at length in the past about this show and why it means so very much to me and why February just wouldn't be February without it. And this year, as with every year, I'm most thankful for the women I've met and gotten to know in the process. They're brave and funny and stunning, and I am better for knowing them.

So yes, I will be stressed come Monday. I'll be nervous. I'll be going over every single detail of the production schedule with Rainman-like intensity. But come Thursday night, when I pull on my sassy back-seamed hose and my five-inch red heels and slip into a black dress that leaves so little to the imagination it's probably illegal in at least five states, I will feel on top of the world. The blood will rush into my face every time a theater full of people laugh until their sides ache. My heart will race when they are gripped with pain. I will feel every emotion in every monologue as if I am hearing them for the very first time.

And in those moments, if I ever questioned why I endure the stress and the nerves and the moments of hair-pulling frustration, I'll know. And I will think of every dollar we raise as the slow repayment of a debt I owe the women of the world, for being so lucky as to have been born so privileged and protected so well, when so many were not.


Wherever you are this month, you must see a performance of The Vagina Monologues or another of Eve Ensler's works. Visit V-Day to learn more and find an event near you.

cheers,
elizabeth