Embody Your Body: How Diana Ross and James Acaster Helped Me Do It!

Gloria Miller as Supremely, Diana Ross!

Getting older is a bitch and it takes guts to weather this process. Do I have the guts? Do I have what it takes to age gracefully?

Both of my parents lived into their 90s and I cannot remember an aging complaint from either of them. They were from that get-on-with-it generation who didn’t have the alphabet soup to shelter them.

There was no talk of ADHD and spectrums, just one day at a time, one foot in front of the other.

Now in my 60th year I barely recognise myself. Did my mother go through the full body transformation that is menopause and I somehow missed it?

I didn’t notice her boobs migrating to her knees.

I didn’t see a faint goatee forming on her chin.

I didn’t register any overwhelm, or a tire forming around her mid-section.

Did she have to take to the bed every couple days? Was she always hot and sweaty?

Because all of this is happening to me. I am in uncharted territory even though many have gone through this before.

Recently, I was asked to perform my Diana Ross tribute show as one of the support acts for James Acaster’s tour. Before this opportunity presented itself, I had retired this act.

When I first started doing my Diana Ross tribute show nearly 10 years ago, I was young-Diana Ross size. I could easily slip into a ball gown, three-inch stilettos, a wig and cape and get through a 45-minute set while barely break a sweat.

Now, not so much.

When the first dates were offered to me last November, I was confident I would be able to get back into Miss-Ross shape before the first tour date scheduled for late April of this year.

What I wasn’t expecting was the offer that came in January to pick up a date in March at the London Palladium, to which I said yes thinking I would still have time to get show ready.

And that’s when my attention fully shifted to the cold hard realities of my current situation. 

As a menopausal woman, indulging feels like a birthright. I hadn’t really registered the bodily changes even though I noticed them. All of a sudden I was registering this shit. Where did these huge boobs, hips and ass come from?

I’m gonna need a bigger dress.

Why can’t I get through singing my set in a t-shirt and jeans without looking like I just stepped out of the shower? I only have to sing four songs for fuck’s sake.

What’s gonna happen when I put on the full outfit and get under those stage lights?  Will I self-combust? I am low-key worried.

Oh, and why can’t I remember lyrics that I’ve been singing for years? This journey has been a complete mind fuck.

I’ve bought three dresses, and none of them fit right. How can I hide my stomach and breathe through the four songs that I can barely remember the lyrics to? It’s been an absolute trip trying to get ready for this first show.

What I am grateful for is attention. My attention has shifted back to how I care for my body. I am paying attention to what I eat and how little I’ve been moving.

Working on some simple dance moves for my set has awakened a world of hurt. There are pains in places that I didn’t know existed. Plus, I’m working out like a fiend so I can get into one of these three dresses.

Then I go on YouTube, minding my own business, and in some algorhythmic invasion, my Diana Ross promo video pops up. WTAF. Just what I needed. I am not that woman anymore.

Then I thought, Diana Ross isn’t either. She’s aging too.

So tomorrow, I will put on the red dress of least resistance. I will don the wig, stilettos and cape. I will sweat through my four-song set and need a soak in a hot bath after. I will pay tribute to a living legend and to myself. I will give 100% as always, and I will live to tell a story of triumph. Because prepping for this show has awakened a genuine care for my body and has made me take a good look at myself.

I have decided to accept what is with love and grace while working to embody my body. To feel the weight of her just as she is while making decisions for longevity’s sake, not just vanity’s.

I am fabulous, and on that very famous stage, I will bloom as my true self, while stepping into the persona of Diana Ross.

I may sweat. I may forget a lyric. But I won’t be holding in my stomach.

You bet yo ass I'll be wearing some spanks though!