Fallen hero

I remember the first time I saw her.

I can still feel the excitement in my heart. The way it fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings inside my chest.

I was 30 years old but had never seen anyone like her.

Chyna in the squared circle with the Road Dog.

Her name was Joanie Laurer, but she wrestled under the name “Chyna.” Tall and muscular, she was billed as the 9th Wonder of the World.

Chyna wasn’t the first woman to wrestle, but she was the first I had seen square off against the guys. 

In  a small way, she reminded me of my tomboy past — me in my blue jeans and baseball cap playing ball with the guys.

But she busted open gender boundaries on a grand scale with the world watching.

It was validation, but it was something else, too.

Even at 30, I needed to be reminded that I could be anyone and do anything.

* * *

Laurer passed away today at the age of 46. A few months ago, I read that she was attending a convention in nearby New Jersey. I thought about going and getting an autograph and telling her that she is one of my heroes. I guess she already knows.

Middle-age butch checks in

I’m alive.

Coming up for air.

Writing like a big bad butch.

This update is brought to you by Red Bull. And all the cups of coffee I’ve consumed.  Thank you, Red Bull and coffee.

Things that have happened since my last post:

I have learned that marriage is a money saver.  Straight people have been sitting on this secret for years.  When we paid our auto insurance premium last month, we updated our status to married.  Progressive ended up sending us a check for $46.  That’s right, married people get free money.  For being married.  So, if you live in a state that allows same-sex marriage, go for it.  Because free money.

Married people get free money just for being married.

I changed one of the main characters in my novel in progress from a former beauty queen to a former female wrestler. Does anyone out there remember GLOW (Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling)? It debuted in 1986. C’mon lesbians, think.  Extra points if you can name any of these spandexed gals.

Do you remember this show?  Do you know these women?

W is on a lavender kick. She bought this new lavender butter (not for toast!) that she rubs on before bed. After she coats herself in a thin coat of lavender, she rubs it on my cheeks and my chin and under my nose. I giggle because it seems so girly.  But I have been sleeping like a giant butch baby.  Zzzzzzz.

This is what I dream about at night?

And W is great.  She humors me about this crazy writing thing.  Like when I start talking to myself, she gently asks who I’m talking to.  And at night when I say that maybe I’m not a fiction writer after all, she just rolls over and says “goodnight, baby.”

Back to the grind. If you’re doing NaNoWriMo, feel free to add me  as a buddy(my handle is rtheo).