Getting My Inner Wench On

"Ye Olde Knights In Shining Armor", set to defend themselves on the Field of Honor

So, I went to the Renaissance Festival on Saturday. What is it about those things that makes you want to get your inner wench on? Perhaps it comes from reading too many steamy historical novels where the "Saucy, Yet Naive Wench" wins the unwanted attentions of her "Liege Lord", only to be saved from impending moral turpitude by "Strapping Young Serf Next Door" with a heart of gold, who loves children and in his spare time volunteers for Ye Olde Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Dragons:

And before you get too many ideas about my intentions toward yonder "Strapping Young Serf Next Door", calm down! I'm not going to go into details here. Besides, it's intellectually stimulating historical research I'm doing here to teach the kidlets at school about the Renaissance! Geez!

Anyway, one simply cannot go to a Renaissance Festival without at least trying to get with the program by looking the part. I'd already done the whole princess thing last spring when I offered up my "huge tracts of land" for a cameo in the middle school's rendition of Monty Python and the Holy Grail*. (Not to mention the fact that my princess outfit is still not back from the cleaners.)

*The audience at the play was so blinded by the awesomeness of my "huge tracts of land" that they were unable to take a photo of me in said costume, so I will substitute this photo of the comely "Queen of the Renaissance" for your enlightenment as to costuming.

Since it was a little hot for the chain mail, I resorted to the wench outfit.

(Note to "Scary Dude in Horned Armor": I think we need to talk... Seriously... even if you are my Liege Lord, that outfit is just wrong!)

It was also too hot to drape myself in wool tartan plaid to honor the Highland Games that were going on. Besides, I didn't plan on tossing the cabre anyway. Throwing trees around on a hot summer day is not my idea of a good time.

I'd much rather hang out with "Weird Guy on Stilts" who's pretending he's a chick riding a horse.

But, wait! What's this I see? They're having a tournament in which one of the prizes is for skill at archery?

Since "Ye Olde Knights in Shining Armor" wouldn't let me joust, this was the next best thing.

Bring it on!

Of course, I shall have to ruin the effect of my wench outfit by wearing spectacles, which are somewhat anachronistic, but sacrifices must be made. (In the interest of the safety of others.)

After 40 years, I still have the touch!

(Although, I should really lower my elbow just a wee bit.)

I was able to slay yon dragon with my fearsome prowess!

(Please just don't let "Strapping Young Serf Next Door" find out about the dragon.)

Zounds! Here comes the local constabulary! They seem to have discerned that I've been banned for life from archery for that unfortunate incident when I was a lass. Damn my wicked step-sister for reporting me! (She's actually my regular sister, but step-sister sounds so much better in this instance.)

Alas, I'm afraid that means the loss of the tournament crown, along with the affections of "Strapping Young Serf Next Door". It also means a trip to the stocks. I'm not sure which is worse... the stocks or the dunking pond.

But, not to worry... I vow to live to fight another day! (Especially as they forgot to lock me into the stocks very securely.) After all, you can't keep a good wench down! And there are always more "Strapping Young Serfs" where that one came from.