Dude Looks Like a Lady

In the past ten months I’ve really bonded with the guys from The Used and Frank Iero. Mikey and I are as estranged as ever. We’ve never fought properly but there’s been a lot of squabbling and really bad press. Bert, Jeph and I are like siblings, it’s awesome. Quinn and I squabble like an old married couple which is even funnier and Dan just acts like a court joker; making everyone laugh. Frank had been out to visit me several times and he always told me about how absence makes the heart grow fonder and how I was always slipped into conversation by Mikey and how he suddenly had a passion for sound tech. I just laughed and shrugged it off. My ass.

Frank also supported my idea of a clothing line. He decided that if I made the clothes he’d put some money in and model the clothes for me. Well, he’d wear them and then throw them out to the crowd and advertise it that way. I spent ten months making and designing clothes. I bought pens, paints, letters, fabrics, needles and thread from cities all over America. The clothes Frankie got really were hand made. I couldn’t find a small portable sewing machine so I had to hand sew things. I also made school bags – out of irritation at the fact that all the bags I had used at school and university broke if you put more than two lever – arch files in them. Bert would advertise the clothing range at the shows too, and I took to wearing them whenever
we had to go out.

I had mellowed a little more. I was more tolerant to mess and other people. I was more ready to fight for Mikey. Until I saw myself. I was more confident in my job as a sound tech. I was better about cooking a nice meal that everyone would like. And I was more able to take care of others and myself. Bert and Quinn had been right. Tour was a learning curve. The corners of my square personality had been knocked slightly rounder. I wasn’t the easiest person on Earth to get on with, but I was no longer so defensive or guarded. I was easier to live with. I only hoped that Mikey would see that too.

The dog had been pregnant, and she had had her pups on one of my tee’s. It was a woman’s tee so it would be worn by me. I didn’t mind the smell but the band did, so it spent many miles being “blown fresh” out of a bus window. We got stopped quite a few times but the police always let us carry on. The pups were very cute, but very annoying and Jeph and I ended up sharing a bunk because he was terrified he’d squash the pups.

It was the last week of the tour, and my lack of sleep was catching up with me. I had huge bags under my eyes, I’d lost masses of weight – the only reason I was eating was because the band was. My eyes had lost some of their sparkle and I was always tired. I refused to see anyone, I knew that when I got home I could spend two days asleep and then I’d be fine. After the last show I’d get a taxi back to Mikey’s and I’d just collapse on the sofa. We were in New York so the cost probably wouldn’t be too bad and I could always beg off of Mikey. Hopefully.

I was just coming out of the shower, where I’d been poking at my body – eyeing the protruding ribs and my jutting hips. The smooth curves I’d worked so hard to get were lost. I was a bag of bones with skin pulled taughtly over them. I always knew I’d only ever be desirable with clothes on, but I never thought I’d look like an ironing board. I shrugged. You can’t change how you look in a week. Or I can’t. It took ten months for this… I stopped thinking. No wonder I looked so gaunt and had hollows under my eyes and cheek bones. Would Mikey find this attractive? I doubted it. Why would he? How could he?

“Lou! Some of us need to piss! Oh and we have some mates in the bar who wanna know about Our Used Romance… your label.” Bert shouted through the door at me. “I have clothes for you to wear here.” He opened the door and threw them in.

“Cheers Bert. I’ll let you know when I’m applying my make up, ‘kay?”

“Just hurry up! I have to piss like a horse!”

“What? Standing up? And with your legs spread so far you’re on tip toes?” I ask facetiously whilst sliding into the slip dress Bert had handed me. I laced up the back and looked at the way the dress hugged my hips. I smoothed the soft black and white tie – dyed cotton fabric and pulled on the fish net tights he’d supplied me with.
I grinned and opened the door. “You can piss like a horse now, Bert.”

He laughed and hugged me. “You’re a trip when you wanna be. Don’t forget that.”

I look at him, “You’re wearing tacked together clothes. What happens when they rip?”

“I’ll look more like an idiot than before.”

“Who are these friends?” I ask, applying mascara in copious quantities to my empty brown eyes.

“Californians.”

“Helpful.”

“I’m concentrating on pissing.”

“TMI.”

“You asked.”

“You liar! I didn’t ask.”

“You made a snide comment!” He turns round, flushes the loo and motions for me to move from the sink. “You look beautiful.”

I roll my eyes, “Save it.”

He growls at me. “Lou…”

“I’m running now!” I take off and land on my bunk where I begin to pull on my fourteen whole Doc. Martins with bright pink and black laces. Bert laughs from the door of the bunk area.

“I could find you in the middle of a hundred acre field if you wore those.”

“That’s the beauty of them.” I tell him grabbing my leather jacket from the door frame and patting the pockets. “Where’s my…”

Bert hands it over, “Here.”

I laugh and hug him, “Who else is coming.”

“Everyone.” I raise an eyebrow. “In the band.” I nod.

“So who’s interested, again?”

“Just some people I know.”

“Be-ert.” I whine.

“Nope.”

I pretend to sulk and he just laughs at me, shooing me off the bus and onto the pavement outside and fancy looking bar.

“Jesus Bert. Who are these people?”

“Uhm, you’ll find out soon enough.” Bert guides me through the doors and keeps a hold on my hand. The bouncer looks us over and nods.

“You wanna go in the back room. They’re all in there.”

“Thanks dude.” Bert mumbles and I just look terrified.

“You could fit you, me, Jeph, Quinn, Dan, Frank and Mikey in his jeans and have room for half of Romania!” I mumble into Bert’s ears. “And it’s just muscle!”

Bert laughs, “You could fit you and someone else into most people jeans.” He tells me. “I can fit my hands round your waist with ease.”

“Oh shut up, Bert.” I tell him pushing him away from me. I hated discussing my weight with him. It was bad enough with Frank. Mikey didn’t know yet. I was dreading that discussion. Talking of Mikey isn’t that… oh shit. I ducked and headed to the back of the bar, dropping all contact with the far more noticeable Bert. What if they… bollocks to that. They’re not in the back room.

I reach a door which has a plaque reading “Private” on it. I shrug and knock on the door. I breathe in as I watch the handle twist down and begin to breathe out as the door opens.

“LOU?!” Comes a fairly familiar voice.