For tonight, I am a star.
I get this brief moment in the limelight by trading my dignity for this silly dress, and a chance to pose and sing other people’s words.
I don’t see it as betrayal of my identity, rather as a layer I put on and take off at will. The stage walls provide a window onto my fame.
And then it all comes crashing down when my dumpy costar opens his mouth and starts singing.
“Kill da wabbit! Kill da wabbit!”