A while ago, I was invited to a villains-themed birthday party. I wracked my brain to try to think of my favorite villain to dress up as, but nothing came to me. (Well, that’s not true, I thought of Ursula from The Little Mermaid, but her curves put mine to shame, I could never do her the justice she deserves.) Then I picked up my Game of Thrones book, and once I got to a Cersei chapter it hit me — I could rock some Cersei cosplay. She is one of my guiltiest of pleasures in the TV show. She’s awful, she’s beautiful, she’s depraved, she’s fashionable, she’s loving but in the most misguided way ever, and, more often than not, bitch gets what she wants.
This was my Cersei cosplay:
My Cersei had short hair because of a wig malfunction. But she still had wine and mega bitch-face.
A year later, I have this text exchange with my best friend Ken:
I clearly have a history with the character. I identify with her in many ways. I love dressing up like her. And even my best friend can see the connection.
Cut to, this weekend. It was tough. I saw my dream home come on the market, in my price range, and everyone I know encouraged me to go after it. I rejected the first couple of messages of encouragement because, well, who am I to put in an offer on a home? I’m a nobody. I’m basically a child when it comes to things like that. But then I thought… who am I NOT to put an offer in? I would love this home more than anyone in the world. I live in mother-fucking Los Angeles, where rent is often more than a mortgage on homes in my price range, I know I can afford this. So I started the process of getting approved for a loan.
And… it’s… not going well.
I keep getting told that — even thought I KNOW FOR A FACT that I can afford up to a 400k home loan — I’m only getting approved for a number that does not and will not EVER equal a home in Los Angeles. It’s frustrating, it’s confusing, it makes me want to give up my dream of ever leaving this apartment.
Then I got a phone call from my dad who gave me the best pep talk ever. Keep in mind, I begged him to start reading Game of Thrones. He refused. Then I bought him the first book for his birthday and he reluctantly started, and reluctantly plodded through. Now, I think, he’s on book three, and he calls me up every now and then to gossip about the characters and story line. So it was extra awesome that he was able to frame his pep-talk in Game of Thrones terms…
He told me that I’d “never win the Iron Throne with that kind of attitude.” He said I should channel my inner Cersei and “be a murderous bitch to get what you want.” He cited the fact that if he had given up when the bank pulled some stupid nonsense when my parents were trying to buy the house in Maui, we wouldn’t have the Shack right now. He could have gone, “that doesn’t make any sense, but okay, I guess there’s nothing I can do.” But he fought for it, and won.
So that day I broke out my Cersei necklace, and practiced best bitch face to help bolster my spirit. Guess what, it did. It may not be a magical object that will help me win the home of my dreams, but it’s a super-great reminder to not give up like a little bitch. And, when that homes goes to someone else, at least I know I will have fought my hardest for it.
Unlike Daenerys Targaryen, I don’t have fire and dragons to help me get what I want. Like my girl Cersei, I do have an incredible bitch face, and as much stubbornness as I have wine to help me get through this.
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