I feel like I should be writing this entry like a diary.
Dear Diary, Today I lost my burlesque virginity and I feel amazing and exhausted all at the same time. (Isn't that how everyone feels after their first time?... haha, right.)
My oh my, what a night. This last week has been a bit of a whirl wind in itself, as leading up to the event my mood swings went from confident to crawling under a coffee table and never coming out, very rapidly.
The day before the event, I was busy putting together raffle prizes and at the end of the night I started to feel crazy jitters, giant expanding Pterodactyl wing nerves, in my stomach, and I wasn't so sure I could do it. I was freaking out that I was under-rehearsed, because in my crazy brain, even if people didn't like my body, they would love my routine as long as it was well put-together, and well executed. So I thought I needed more rehearsal... despite the large amount I had already rehearsed...and I didn't have time for anymore... And therefore I lost my shit.
What was happening? My highly over-loaded brain couldn't compute that even though I have come a LONG way with being able to feel sexy, and love myself and my body, I was going to allow other people into my vulnerable place, and leave room for judgement. That is a whole other beast into itself! And one over which I had absolutely no control. Luckily I was in the presence of a calm, wonderful
company member who graciously offered to watch my routine, as it would
help a lot to do it in front of someone. She was right. It helped a lot. But there was still a lingering fear...
So, the big day arrived. I woke up before my alarm, super excited, shaved everything that needed to be shaved, made sure I had everything on my list to bring, curled my hair, and headed out to my cab with my load full of stuff. The first thing I see when I'm out the door, is my adorable old caretaker watering the garden.
"Oh, what lovely packages you've got there." It was at this moment that I realized I was carrying 2 large gift baskets full of dildos, lube, and naughty videos. Before my mortification could set in, and before he could get a better look, I ran into the cab and wished him a good day safely hidden in the back seat.
There were plenty of things to be done during the day, and therefore I had a lot to busy my mind with. It was about 2 hours before the doors opened that I suddenly started worrying about my pasties. I had this day-mere of getting down to my bra in front of the crowd, and exposing my breasts to see that I forgot to put them on, or they fell right off.
I should mention here that a few days before this, I had decided to practice my routine with the pasties glued on. I used spirit gum, as a couple of burlesque pros had recommended it. For those of you who don't know, spirit gum is used generally with actors for facial hair, fake lesions, etc. So, I had some around from my old U of W days. Anyway, I was told to apply it, and wait until it was sticky, then put them on. The problem was, I didn't know how much to use. I figured the more, the better, so I coated both pasties in a layer of the stuff, and off we went. After rehearsal, I took my bra off to discover there was glue ALL OVER. It was covering my bra, and basically my entire breasts. I started freaking out, trying to wash it off with soap, to no avail. I remembered that I had a bottle of spirit gum remover in my stage make-up, so I was throwing things out from under my bed trying to find it. (comically, I had put on a robe in case my roommate came home, so it continued to get stuck, and I was intermittently ripping it off of my poor glue-coated chest. At last I found the bottle to find... it was empty. Crap. I know we used something else to remove it in school, but I couldn't remember, so I googled it. Rubbing alcohol. Did I have any? After another drastic search, SUCCESS! I went on to spend the next 45 minutes watching "Orange is the new black" and de-gluing myself, but at least it was working.
So, you can imagine why I would be nervous. Luckily after a brief consultation with a seasoned professional, I decided to put them on right away, and get it over with, with the ability to check before the number, that all was well. It is the oddest sensation to sit topless in a public bathroom stall. I felt strangely giddy as I sat there half-naked, applying my glue in calculated amounts.
Through a mediocre amount of chaos, we managed to get everything set, ourselves dressed, and the show began! The only difficulty came when we realized we would have to clear the bar off completely to make sure it was safe for us to get up there. I volunteered to go out and check, and was surprised to find there were about 12 people sitting right at it. Shit. I went up to the first couple and tried desperately to communicate quickly that we would need them to move because we needed the bar for the first number. They were appalled. The lady turned to me and said "well, where do you expect us to sit, then?" This was not the answer I was expecting. For a few seconds my brain could not comprehend that these people were being so ridiculous. I had no reply except "I don't really know, but I assure you that you can have your seat back when the number is done." I saw them begrudgingly get up mumbling "Leave your coat on the bar to save it." I couldn't believe it. I picked up the coat, at this point having lost all patience, and handed it to them saying "We will need the bar clear, sorry." The look on their faces told me that our neediness in performance was really getting on their nerves. Luckily all other people were very compliant, and the clown number went off without hitch.
Intermission hit, and my number was first up in the next act. This is when my fears began to creep in once again. I checked on my girls, pasties were still in place and holding strong, and then started to put my costume on, when I suddenly realized that I did not have my gloves, as I had thrown them on the bartenders' head in the first number. Again, Shit. I ran over to our kitten, but she did not have them, I ran to the bar but they did not have them, I ran over to the door as I had misheard someone say they might have them, and then made my way backstage, this time, in full freak out mode. Luckily they were lying at the bottom of a pile of clothes retrieved backstage. And I was back in business. Outfit on. A little rehearsal with my lovely opening partner, and I was ready. Before I knew what was happening, I was introduced, and the music started, and we were out. Thank god I had another person in my introduction, as it gave me a very friendly and safe way in.
I got to the beginning of the actual number, and I could already feel the encouragement. The audience was with me. As I got up to take off my first glove, I started to feel relaxed in my routine. I was starting to enjoy it. I stopped worrying... that is until I caught a familiar eye in the audience and then began the moves to throw my stocking before I had actually taken it off... whoops. Deep breath, went back into my zone, and we were back at it.
I cannot fully describe the exhilaration of having a room full of people cheer you on as you flirt and tease and take off a couple of items, and watch the excitement grow as more and more interesting things come off. It was amazing.
Now, I was at the point that I was regretting the most...I was about to show off, pretty much, my entire butt to a crowd full of people. It wasn't until rehearsal the day before that I had found out I was the only one who would be wearing a thong in the show. I started to really regret it, but my costume was all put together, and it was too late for changes now! It was around then that I remembered how I had planned on putting make-up all over my butt, to feel a bit better about it. I had some bruises, and faded stretch marks, and I thought it would give me more confidence, but, alas, I had forgotten that little detail in the craziness of looking for gloves. It was too late now. I was holding my skirt, teasing for a little bit more than I had planned in rehearsal. I took a deep breath, and let it drop to the floor, as the audience got more excited, I turned around, gave a little shake, and they cheered like crazy! They loved my bare butt!
The rest of the routine is a bit of a blur, as I found myself getting ahead of the music a few times, so I was playing with the audience much more than I had planned, and I have no idea what I did. All I can say, is in the last moments, when I dropped the bra, turned around, and did a little shimmy, I have never felt more like a rock star in my life. I felt good. I felt sexy, whether I looked it or not, is not even relevant. I felt it. And I liked it.
I hadn't even planned an exit from the stage, so I stood in shock for a second, boobies forward, and then excitedly, and speedily made my way into the back changing curtain.
Holy shit. I did it. I was still ablaze with a rush of excitement. My fingers were shaking as I tried to put some clothes on. I did it. I did it. I DID IT!
Through the rest of the night, I had a lot of lovely people show their support, and compliment me on various parts of my anatomy. It was a strange thing to walk into a room and know that everyone there has seen my money maker and my ta tas. You'd think that would be enough to keep me from getting into my head, but I could feel little thoughts creep in that "everyone was really grossed out by my ass, they were just being nice, they thought I was fat..." I heard them, but you know what? I wouldn't let them stay. I made the decision to enjoy my night. And I did.
The truth is, I don't think I could have done this a couple of years
ago, or maybe even a year ago. This was one of my biggest but also most
enticing fears I had, and I proved to myself that I have really grown as a
person to get out there and do it. And sober at that! That is truly astonishing.
There were several moments near the end of the night when I looked around that room, overwhelmed with emotion. Overwhelmed that there were so many supportive friends and Theatre comrades out there, overwhelmed by the caliber of performers who agreed to use their talents to help us with the night, the supportive colleagues and friends who helped us run the show, and the fact that we, inamorata, actually made this happen. We did it. And I did it.
Not only that, here's to another baby step forward into changing the views on female body image and sexuality. I am very proud.
I encourage y'all to try doing something that scares the poop out of you. It is quite an empowering experience.
Love and kindness all.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Monday, June 2, 2014
Confessions of a virgin Burlesque-er part 3: The art of sexy, warts and all
Warning: This blog would probably be viewed as containing TMI (too much information) so please turn back now if that offends you. For the good of this "experiment" I feel it is only fair to include all the details. You have been warned!
Okay, we are ONE WEEK away and the reality has officially set in: It is crunch time!
The last couple of weeks have been a whole mix of putting a costume together, finding the right songs, learning (very slowly) how to edit these songs together, and of course, setting the routine!
In the middle of that, I have discovered even MORE wonderful fears! Yay! Also, the difficulty involved in the art of being sexy. Let me explain this with a story. One of my lovely company members and I decided it would be a good idea to attend another burlesque class with a new instructor to switch things up, so we went to a drop in class. It turned out, we were the only two who showed up on this muggy, sunny Monday afternoon, so we had a private class. We were excited.
The instructor was sarcastic, voluptuous, strong and saucy, and I was instantly terrified of her. We decided to learn some more glove moves (you can never have too many glove moves it seems) and she overwhelmed us with massive amounts of tips, techniques and information, woven with stories of her success and sex appeal as a professional burlesque dancer. As I watched her demonstrate with absolute ease, like she could actually do it in her sleep, I was mesmerized by her opposing hand and leg. What really struck me was that she seemed to know intuitively what to do with her limbs to ALWAYS look sexy. It was an art. A gift. A gift that I unfortunately do not naturally possess.
At the end of the class, she turned on some random music and told us to demonstrate what we had learned with gloves. Right at that moment, the next class came in, an advanced class of burlesque dancers who were now our impromptu audience, and suddenly I couldn't remember any of the moves she had showed us. I glanced at my partner in crime, and with a little grin of encouragement, I bit the bullet and displayed, teased, removed, flourished, and discarded those gloves, with a teeny bit of sex appeal.
When we left the class the question that kept coming back to me was "how did she look so sexy no matter what she did?" I mean, she could just put her foot and hip in the right spot and BAM, sexy, where as I would try the same move, look in the mirror and BAM awkward. It really was an art form, and one that I cannot hope to learn in the remaining days before the show, so all I can do is try to emulate the art of being sexy. Respect.
In other news, I had a sudden realization last week that I was not exactly properly groomed in certain areas for the skimpy things I would be wearing in public, and if I left it to the last minute I would inevitably have a skin reaction and be even more embarrassed, and we don't need that. I don't want to repeat myself, as I have blogged about this before, but I have an issue with full hair removal, down there. I frankly feel prepubescent without any hair. I am a strong believer that real women have hair, but in these particular circumstance, I needed more of it off than normal.
Sadly, my usual lady was all booked up, so I looked for other alternatives and ended up at the ten spot. Hey, they are known for their waxing. So, I stroll in for my appointment, and was led down 2 flights of stairs into the dungeon of waxing, fit with cement hallways and all, and into the very usual-looking little room, and the very nice lady told me I could turn on netflix to whatever I liked. What?? Alright this age we live in is pretty darn cool. I chose to watch Sherlock Holmes while the nice lady ripped hair off of some sensitive areas.
What an interesting thing it is to realize, as I am spread eagle on the table, that this strange woman whom I just met five minutes ago, has a very close look at my intimate parts. Talk about vulnerability. Well, I thought, if I can do this, I guess I can strip too!
Anyway, it turned out to not be too painful at all, thank goodness, and after a couple of days of CRAZED itching, I'm doing just fine.
Now, it is all about practice, practice, practice. I made a deal with myself that I had to finally set the moves, and then be done with it, which has worked out pretty well. Confidence has been pretty good until the moment yesterday when I realized just how many stretch marks I could find on my jiggly thighs and butt. In the middle of my rehearsal I found myself becoming obsessed with it, starring, and feeling violently ill. I sat down defeated and decided that I could not do this after all. No one wants to see that. After a ten minute pity party, I forced myself to look in the mirror again, and remind myself that no one is expecting perfection. Imperfection is beautiful. Imagine how many people would feel shitty about themselves if they saw that my body was absolutely perfect, right? I'm doing it for US, all of US! WARTS AND ALL! (Luckily I don't actually have warts, but you know what I mean.) Let's love our bodies with our imperfections, and that starts with me taking my clothes off to show that I am not perfect, but I can still be sexy.
Here we go!
Love and kindness all.
Okay, we are ONE WEEK away and the reality has officially set in: It is crunch time!
The last couple of weeks have been a whole mix of putting a costume together, finding the right songs, learning (very slowly) how to edit these songs together, and of course, setting the routine!
In the middle of that, I have discovered even MORE wonderful fears! Yay! Also, the difficulty involved in the art of being sexy. Let me explain this with a story. One of my lovely company members and I decided it would be a good idea to attend another burlesque class with a new instructor to switch things up, so we went to a drop in class. It turned out, we were the only two who showed up on this muggy, sunny Monday afternoon, so we had a private class. We were excited.
The instructor was sarcastic, voluptuous, strong and saucy, and I was instantly terrified of her. We decided to learn some more glove moves (you can never have too many glove moves it seems) and she overwhelmed us with massive amounts of tips, techniques and information, woven with stories of her success and sex appeal as a professional burlesque dancer. As I watched her demonstrate with absolute ease, like she could actually do it in her sleep, I was mesmerized by her opposing hand and leg. What really struck me was that she seemed to know intuitively what to do with her limbs to ALWAYS look sexy. It was an art. A gift. A gift that I unfortunately do not naturally possess.
At the end of the class, she turned on some random music and told us to demonstrate what we had learned with gloves. Right at that moment, the next class came in, an advanced class of burlesque dancers who were now our impromptu audience, and suddenly I couldn't remember any of the moves she had showed us. I glanced at my partner in crime, and with a little grin of encouragement, I bit the bullet and displayed, teased, removed, flourished, and discarded those gloves, with a teeny bit of sex appeal.
When we left the class the question that kept coming back to me was "how did she look so sexy no matter what she did?" I mean, she could just put her foot and hip in the right spot and BAM, sexy, where as I would try the same move, look in the mirror and BAM awkward. It really was an art form, and one that I cannot hope to learn in the remaining days before the show, so all I can do is try to emulate the art of being sexy. Respect.
In other news, I had a sudden realization last week that I was not exactly properly groomed in certain areas for the skimpy things I would be wearing in public, and if I left it to the last minute I would inevitably have a skin reaction and be even more embarrassed, and we don't need that. I don't want to repeat myself, as I have blogged about this before, but I have an issue with full hair removal, down there. I frankly feel prepubescent without any hair. I am a strong believer that real women have hair, but in these particular circumstance, I needed more of it off than normal.
Sadly, my usual lady was all booked up, so I looked for other alternatives and ended up at the ten spot. Hey, they are known for their waxing. So, I stroll in for my appointment, and was led down 2 flights of stairs into the dungeon of waxing, fit with cement hallways and all, and into the very usual-looking little room, and the very nice lady told me I could turn on netflix to whatever I liked. What?? Alright this age we live in is pretty darn cool. I chose to watch Sherlock Holmes while the nice lady ripped hair off of some sensitive areas.
What an interesting thing it is to realize, as I am spread eagle on the table, that this strange woman whom I just met five minutes ago, has a very close look at my intimate parts. Talk about vulnerability. Well, I thought, if I can do this, I guess I can strip too!
Anyway, it turned out to not be too painful at all, thank goodness, and after a couple of days of CRAZED itching, I'm doing just fine.
Now, it is all about practice, practice, practice. I made a deal with myself that I had to finally set the moves, and then be done with it, which has worked out pretty well. Confidence has been pretty good until the moment yesterday when I realized just how many stretch marks I could find on my jiggly thighs and butt. In the middle of my rehearsal I found myself becoming obsessed with it, starring, and feeling violently ill. I sat down defeated and decided that I could not do this after all. No one wants to see that. After a ten minute pity party, I forced myself to look in the mirror again, and remind myself that no one is expecting perfection. Imperfection is beautiful. Imagine how many people would feel shitty about themselves if they saw that my body was absolutely perfect, right? I'm doing it for US, all of US! WARTS AND ALL! (Luckily I don't actually have warts, but you know what I mean.) Let's love our bodies with our imperfections, and that starts with me taking my clothes off to show that I am not perfect, but I can still be sexy.
Here we go!
Love and kindness all.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Confessions of Virgin Burlesque-er part 2: learning the ropes
We are now less than one month away from the big burlesque day!! What an exciting and scary thought!!!
As the journey into burlesque continues, the four of us of Theatre Inamorata decided to hire a burlesque coach to give us an introductory lesson into the world of burlesque. This, in retrospect, was a very, very smart idea. Here is the main thing that I learned: I have a LOT to learn!!
It was a fabulous session, starting off with some history, tips, and basics to planning a routine. We then got on our feet, and geared up in our feather boas and high heels, and we started to learn some basic walks. It was at this point, as I was watching myself prance effortfully in the crack between the dance mirrors, that I realized I have had very few instances in my life where I took myself seriously when I was trying to be "sexy." I started to feel that this could be a little bit more difficult than I thought. As I tried to emulate the amazing ease and skill of our sexy instructor, I had a little trouble not tripping over my own high-heeled feet. After a few more tries, I looked a little bit graceful, and slightly stylish, but I think it would be a stretch to say in the sexy realm.
So what is so different between the sexy ladies that I have had the pleasure of watching, and me? First, I think talent is definitely important, so that means taking the time to really learn the moves, and practice, practice, practice. Second, I'd say playing the part, really committing to the character I'm playing, and choosing a scenario that allows me to DO something (since nothing makes me more nervous, as an actor, than being on stage without knowing what to do). Lastly, and most importantly, CONFIDENCE! I think it is clear that this is the main hurdle I'm dealing with here. I am very good at making fun of myself, at playing at sexy, knowing it is a joke, but I need to practice having confidence that I am sexy. That I can be sexy, and it doesn't have to be a joke.
So, as my next weekly goal, leading up to this exciting event, I need to practice feeling confident, and sexy. I don't know exactly how I'm going to accomplish this yet, but I will come up with a few ideas. I'll report back, of course.
The rest of the lesson was hilarious as we all attempted to fling various pieces of clothing sexily throughout the room, and learned little tricks of the trade along the way. I think I have a knack for shoe flinging, so y'all better watch out!
In terms of progress on the body image front, I hit one little snag: at the lesson I learned that using garter belts may be a little bit too difficult at this virginal point of my burlesquing... which ruined my little plan of covering up the one part of my body I am nervous about showing- my stomach. It is pretty funny to me that I would rather show my boobs, my butt, and more... before I would ever think of showing my stomach. I guess we all have our thing! In my head, I thought that I could cleverly hide my belly by wearing a high-wasted garter belt, and just not take it off. Foiled! After a consoling chat with one of my lovely company members, I was given a choice: I can either find some clever way to hide that belly that I am so embarrassed by, or I can show it proudly as part of the beautiful woman I am. I am really hoping I can brave it enough to accomplish number two. I was also told to do a little strip tease for myself... and no laughing... so that's what I am about to do! Wish me luck!
Love and kindness all.
As the journey into burlesque continues, the four of us of Theatre Inamorata decided to hire a burlesque coach to give us an introductory lesson into the world of burlesque. This, in retrospect, was a very, very smart idea. Here is the main thing that I learned: I have a LOT to learn!!
It was a fabulous session, starting off with some history, tips, and basics to planning a routine. We then got on our feet, and geared up in our feather boas and high heels, and we started to learn some basic walks. It was at this point, as I was watching myself prance effortfully in the crack between the dance mirrors, that I realized I have had very few instances in my life where I took myself seriously when I was trying to be "sexy." I started to feel that this could be a little bit more difficult than I thought. As I tried to emulate the amazing ease and skill of our sexy instructor, I had a little trouble not tripping over my own high-heeled feet. After a few more tries, I looked a little bit graceful, and slightly stylish, but I think it would be a stretch to say in the sexy realm.
So what is so different between the sexy ladies that I have had the pleasure of watching, and me? First, I think talent is definitely important, so that means taking the time to really learn the moves, and practice, practice, practice. Second, I'd say playing the part, really committing to the character I'm playing, and choosing a scenario that allows me to DO something (since nothing makes me more nervous, as an actor, than being on stage without knowing what to do). Lastly, and most importantly, CONFIDENCE! I think it is clear that this is the main hurdle I'm dealing with here. I am very good at making fun of myself, at playing at sexy, knowing it is a joke, but I need to practice having confidence that I am sexy. That I can be sexy, and it doesn't have to be a joke.
So, as my next weekly goal, leading up to this exciting event, I need to practice feeling confident, and sexy. I don't know exactly how I'm going to accomplish this yet, but I will come up with a few ideas. I'll report back, of course.
The rest of the lesson was hilarious as we all attempted to fling various pieces of clothing sexily throughout the room, and learned little tricks of the trade along the way. I think I have a knack for shoe flinging, so y'all better watch out!
In terms of progress on the body image front, I hit one little snag: at the lesson I learned that using garter belts may be a little bit too difficult at this virginal point of my burlesquing... which ruined my little plan of covering up the one part of my body I am nervous about showing- my stomach. It is pretty funny to me that I would rather show my boobs, my butt, and more... before I would ever think of showing my stomach. I guess we all have our thing! In my head, I thought that I could cleverly hide my belly by wearing a high-wasted garter belt, and just not take it off. Foiled! After a consoling chat with one of my lovely company members, I was given a choice: I can either find some clever way to hide that belly that I am so embarrassed by, or I can show it proudly as part of the beautiful woman I am. I am really hoping I can brave it enough to accomplish number two. I was also told to do a little strip tease for myself... and no laughing... so that's what I am about to do! Wish me luck!
Love and kindness all.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Confessions of a virgin Burlesque-er part 1
My beautiful Theatre company ladies and I came up with the idea to do a burlesque show for our second fundraising venture. It was a super exciting and intriguing idea that interests people from MANY walks of life, which is a great solution to finding people to come from outside of the Theatre community. Wooowhooo!
I have decided to keep a mini-series within my blog about the whole burlesque-prepping and burlesque-performing experience. I have a feeling it could get a little bumpy!
Speaking of bumps...I had a huge realization moment earlier this week that the fundraiser is now just over a month away, and I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO BE TAKING MY CLOTHES OFF IN FRONT OF PEOPLE!! This of course brought on a whole wave of anxiety. Not to say that I didn't logically know this information before, but it is slowly becoming more and more of a reality. Granted, this was my choice, and no one is pushing me to perform, so it is voluntary anxiety, if you will.
This wave of anxiety is that I am not completely thrilled with what my body looks like at this point in time. Not to say that I am ever really truly satisfied, but I haven't been getting to the gym at all lately, and my eating habits have been on the mediocre side. So, I of course started some crazy plans to eat nothing but apples and lemon water and go to the gym every day until the dreaded 9th day of June.
After the wave of anxiety subsided, and I was thinking ever-so-slightly with clarity, I started to think about more of the reasons for why we decided to do this fundraiser in the first place: women, body image, sexuality, sexual desire, woman as objects of sexual desire, women being in control of their sexuality and how they are seen as a sexual being, and the plethora of other subjects that are being explored through this genre. To me, it comes down to a celebration of the female body, in all of its' glory, and embracing our own female sexuality. I love this idea!
Of course, that means acceptance of our bodies with all of their "flaws" (as I for one seem to always be looking for.) Really though, accepting that perfection does not equal sexy. (In my skewed judgement meaning Skinny with no flab is not the only "sexy" or a better "sexy") I can be a sexual being, I can appear sexy with a little bit of extra tummy, and jiggly thighs. I can embrace my sexuality without feeling I am inferior. So, THIS IS THE GOAL!
With that in mind, I have started to try to put together costume ideas, as I need an idea of what I am wearing before I can cement my routine down. And I am fairly certain I would like to explore the fun of garter belts... along with other goodies, but I've decided to make the garter belt the centre of my ensemble. Thus begins the garter belt search.
This led me to my first experience in an upscale lingerie store. I had some time to kill before a meeting downtown, so I popped into a teeny tiny little fancy-looking boutique with a rainbow of lace panties on display on manikins outside. Right away I was greeted by a slightly skeptical grin on the mouth of an older lady who crept our from behind the counter, and in an indistinguishable European accent asked "Is there something you want to look at?" I was suddenly transported to being 13 again and watching a snickering teenage boy ring through the tampons that I was hiding between 2 boxes of kleenex on the grocery belt at shoppers drug mart. After that embarrassment surpassed, I reminded myself that I am a thirty year old woman, despite my appearance, and I can shop for lingerie if I want to. Damn it. So I caught my breath and with my most drawn-up confidence, and with a stiff attempt at casualness, asked "Yes, what do you have for garter belts, please?"
She did not seem surprised, as I was watching her face for any sign of it, but instead, she sighed and said "I only have a couple of kinds, here. This one is very precious lace, imported." It was gorgeous. I didn't think I would have that reaction to a garter belt, but it was a mix of cream and light blue with dainty pink lace. I imagined a fairytale princess would have wore something similar if Disney wasn't G-rated. The other styles were too small, so I focused on this one, until I flipped over the price tag in my hand and saw that it was "on sale" for 125$!!! Ya, there's no way that was going to happen.
I pretended to be thinking about it, and put it down on the counter. I didn't want her to know that I was thrown by the price. Some weird pride in me wanted the strange lady to think that the price didn't phase me one bit, so I greased up my acting chops and pulled out my cell phone to check the time and fained (not too poorly if you ask me) that I was suddenly late for something important. "Oh, I have to go, would you be able to hold this for me until tomorrow?" I rushed with the words, to back up my hurried lie. "Yes, yes, no problem." She put the precious piece on the counter, and I silently wished it goodbye as she wrote down my name, and I thanked her and left.
I will be searching for something slightly on the lower-end, but all in all a good first step, I would say, to embracing this sexuality of mine!
Love and kindness all.
I have decided to keep a mini-series within my blog about the whole burlesque-prepping and burlesque-performing experience. I have a feeling it could get a little bumpy!
Speaking of bumps...I had a huge realization moment earlier this week that the fundraiser is now just over a month away, and I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO BE TAKING MY CLOTHES OFF IN FRONT OF PEOPLE!! This of course brought on a whole wave of anxiety. Not to say that I didn't logically know this information before, but it is slowly becoming more and more of a reality. Granted, this was my choice, and no one is pushing me to perform, so it is voluntary anxiety, if you will.
This wave of anxiety is that I am not completely thrilled with what my body looks like at this point in time. Not to say that I am ever really truly satisfied, but I haven't been getting to the gym at all lately, and my eating habits have been on the mediocre side. So, I of course started some crazy plans to eat nothing but apples and lemon water and go to the gym every day until the dreaded 9th day of June.
After the wave of anxiety subsided, and I was thinking ever-so-slightly with clarity, I started to think about more of the reasons for why we decided to do this fundraiser in the first place: women, body image, sexuality, sexual desire, woman as objects of sexual desire, women being in control of their sexuality and how they are seen as a sexual being, and the plethora of other subjects that are being explored through this genre. To me, it comes down to a celebration of the female body, in all of its' glory, and embracing our own female sexuality. I love this idea!
Of course, that means acceptance of our bodies with all of their "flaws" (as I for one seem to always be looking for.) Really though, accepting that perfection does not equal sexy. (In my skewed judgement meaning Skinny with no flab is not the only "sexy" or a better "sexy") I can be a sexual being, I can appear sexy with a little bit of extra tummy, and jiggly thighs. I can embrace my sexuality without feeling I am inferior. So, THIS IS THE GOAL!
With that in mind, I have started to try to put together costume ideas, as I need an idea of what I am wearing before I can cement my routine down. And I am fairly certain I would like to explore the fun of garter belts... along with other goodies, but I've decided to make the garter belt the centre of my ensemble. Thus begins the garter belt search.
This led me to my first experience in an upscale lingerie store. I had some time to kill before a meeting downtown, so I popped into a teeny tiny little fancy-looking boutique with a rainbow of lace panties on display on manikins outside. Right away I was greeted by a slightly skeptical grin on the mouth of an older lady who crept our from behind the counter, and in an indistinguishable European accent asked "Is there something you want to look at?" I was suddenly transported to being 13 again and watching a snickering teenage boy ring through the tampons that I was hiding between 2 boxes of kleenex on the grocery belt at shoppers drug mart. After that embarrassment surpassed, I reminded myself that I am a thirty year old woman, despite my appearance, and I can shop for lingerie if I want to. Damn it. So I caught my breath and with my most drawn-up confidence, and with a stiff attempt at casualness, asked "Yes, what do you have for garter belts, please?"
She did not seem surprised, as I was watching her face for any sign of it, but instead, she sighed and said "I only have a couple of kinds, here. This one is very precious lace, imported." It was gorgeous. I didn't think I would have that reaction to a garter belt, but it was a mix of cream and light blue with dainty pink lace. I imagined a fairytale princess would have wore something similar if Disney wasn't G-rated. The other styles were too small, so I focused on this one, until I flipped over the price tag in my hand and saw that it was "on sale" for 125$!!! Ya, there's no way that was going to happen.
I pretended to be thinking about it, and put it down on the counter. I didn't want her to know that I was thrown by the price. Some weird pride in me wanted the strange lady to think that the price didn't phase me one bit, so I greased up my acting chops and pulled out my cell phone to check the time and fained (not too poorly if you ask me) that I was suddenly late for something important. "Oh, I have to go, would you be able to hold this for me until tomorrow?" I rushed with the words, to back up my hurried lie. "Yes, yes, no problem." She put the precious piece on the counter, and I silently wished it goodbye as she wrote down my name, and I thanked her and left.
I will be searching for something slightly on the lower-end, but all in all a good first step, I would say, to embracing this sexuality of mine!
Love and kindness all.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
An actor's third-life crisis methinks
Maybe it's because it's my birthday into a new decade next week, or maybe it's the usual time of year for thinking about change, but I find myself weeding through a familiar web of questions this April.
First, and foremost, what do I really want to do with this life, ie: what is my purpose. I have heard the phrase "finding your purpose is the purpose of life" and although I do agree that the journey is the important part, I find myself really analyzing this life I lead.
I think it can be a very easy thing to let ideals slide away in this biz of show. I see it happening everyday, and I am not immune.
As an actor in this big city of Toronto, I am grasping at any opportunity to act, because I am so starving for it. If it happens to pay, I am salivating at the bit, so that I find myself ready to drop EVERYTHING for a callback for a staples commercial where the extent of my acting is to look up and notice another human, and then go back to looking at the floor. I know I am not alone in this. It is really easy to lose sight, because in a game where opportunity passes me by hundreds of times, I just want someone to say "yes", and I am so excited by the prospect of someone saying "yes", that I will do (almost) anything!
So, let's just step back for a second. Why did I decide to be an actor int he first place? Well that's an interesting question. I was 9, and I auditioned for a school play, and turned out to be decently good at it, so my mom put me into acting lessons. When I was 12 I landed my first professional gig, and I kind of just kept going! Now that I am (more of) an adult, I have more reasoning behind my choice. I believe in art (and specifically Theatre/film) as a necessity for growth, for beauty, for culture, for entertainment, for laughter, for heart ache, for a mirror into ourselves, for a peek hole into a world unknown, for depth, for nurturing the younger generation, for a glorious escape into the beauty of story telling, to open our stereotyped minds, a means to change the way we view beauty/ideal body types/mass media garbage, to see women and men in a new and interesting light.
But is that all? I do believe in the creation of great art, for all of the reasons listed above, and I love acting, but maybe I love acting because it fulfills a very selfish need? Maybe I could be of better use/ purpose working at a task that directly helps others?
So, here's the deal: Do I REALLY believe that creating Theatre/ Film, and my reasons behind it, are important enough to devote my life to? If the answer is yes, then it's about time to be truly MAKING the work I want to see, and making that the priority, and stop letting shitty commercial auditions have a power over me like no other! If the answer is no, it is time to start thinking about what really is important enough to put my life energy into.
And lastly, to have faith. Faith that I can make a difference, whatever way I choose, and the right way to do it will become clear.
In all honesty, I know that the answers will become clear to me, I just also know it is important to ask the questions.
Love and kindness all.
First, and foremost, what do I really want to do with this life, ie: what is my purpose. I have heard the phrase "finding your purpose is the purpose of life" and although I do agree that the journey is the important part, I find myself really analyzing this life I lead.
I think it can be a very easy thing to let ideals slide away in this biz of show. I see it happening everyday, and I am not immune.
As an actor in this big city of Toronto, I am grasping at any opportunity to act, because I am so starving for it. If it happens to pay, I am salivating at the bit, so that I find myself ready to drop EVERYTHING for a callback for a staples commercial where the extent of my acting is to look up and notice another human, and then go back to looking at the floor. I know I am not alone in this. It is really easy to lose sight, because in a game where opportunity passes me by hundreds of times, I just want someone to say "yes", and I am so excited by the prospect of someone saying "yes", that I will do (almost) anything!
So, let's just step back for a second. Why did I decide to be an actor int he first place? Well that's an interesting question. I was 9, and I auditioned for a school play, and turned out to be decently good at it, so my mom put me into acting lessons. When I was 12 I landed my first professional gig, and I kind of just kept going! Now that I am (more of) an adult, I have more reasoning behind my choice. I believe in art (and specifically Theatre/film) as a necessity for growth, for beauty, for culture, for entertainment, for laughter, for heart ache, for a mirror into ourselves, for a peek hole into a world unknown, for depth, for nurturing the younger generation, for a glorious escape into the beauty of story telling, to open our stereotyped minds, a means to change the way we view beauty/ideal body types/mass media garbage, to see women and men in a new and interesting light.
But is that all? I do believe in the creation of great art, for all of the reasons listed above, and I love acting, but maybe I love acting because it fulfills a very selfish need? Maybe I could be of better use/ purpose working at a task that directly helps others?
So, here's the deal: Do I REALLY believe that creating Theatre/ Film, and my reasons behind it, are important enough to devote my life to? If the answer is yes, then it's about time to be truly MAKING the work I want to see, and making that the priority, and stop letting shitty commercial auditions have a power over me like no other! If the answer is no, it is time to start thinking about what really is important enough to put my life energy into.
And lastly, to have faith. Faith that I can make a difference, whatever way I choose, and the right way to do it will become clear.
In all honesty, I know that the answers will become clear to me, I just also know it is important to ask the questions.
Love and kindness all.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Why I hate Toronto
So a few months ago I was set to leave the good ol' T-dot. I had decided that I hated everything about it, and it was just not the place for me.
Fair enough.
I had lot's of good reasons, hundreds of justifications, a lot of wonderful support either way. Until a lovely friend of mine asked me this question: Have you done everything you can to change it?
At first I wanted to punch him in the neck. (That tends to be my usual thought reaction to people hitting a nerve, although I have yet to actually act on the impulse... thank goodness) After I took a breath, I realized that I absolutely had not. I argued that no one could do EVERYTHING they possibly could, and that not everything can change... but as I heard these arguments slip through my mouth, I knew that I had nothing. No answer except: No.
So, Toronto, here's to giving it a real try. A trial of true change, and acceptance. A trial of finding my love for this wonderful city in every way I can. With the perfect advice from my friend, I wrote a resentment list about Toronto. A list of everything I hate about it, and then a chance to see what I can do to change it. I HIGHLY recommend this as a problem-solving strategy by the way. It takes out the heated emotions and allows me to see where I'm being completely petty.
For example: I wrote that the people here are all egotistical and brash. So, in seeing that in writing, I see that it may be just a tad of a generalization ;) I mean, is it true that everyone who lives in "friendly Manitoba" is a welcoming beacon of sunshine? Obviously I know from experience this is not true.
Yes, people in TO tend to be a little bit more focused, and there are a lot of people rushing to get from place to place (hell, I fall into that category half of the time) but it does not mean they are bad or mean or sociopathic people. Being a different personality from me does not make someone bad. You'd think that is something I would have learned from all of my years of sesame street and Mr. Rogers, but for some of us, it takes a little longer ;)
So, I brace myself with a good book and some music (in case someone is being too obnoxious for my taste) as I head out to the TTC (which, by the way, for all the complaints I hear, and may partake in on a daily basis, is a hell of a lot better that waiting in minus 40 for 20 minutes for a bus. ) I wait my 4-7 minutes underground for the subway, and I try to appreciate it.
Toronto: I don't know how long I'm going to live here, but for the time being, I'm going to try to appreciate you for all you are. Eat at your thousands of restaurants, go to your many music shows/ theatre events/ movies playing at any time of the day, take your classes with your hundreds of well-trained and wonderfully talented people, and enjoy myself.
And I will learn to avoid rush-hour downtown. At all costs.
Love and kindness all.
Fair enough.
I had lot's of good reasons, hundreds of justifications, a lot of wonderful support either way. Until a lovely friend of mine asked me this question: Have you done everything you can to change it?
At first I wanted to punch him in the neck. (That tends to be my usual thought reaction to people hitting a nerve, although I have yet to actually act on the impulse... thank goodness) After I took a breath, I realized that I absolutely had not. I argued that no one could do EVERYTHING they possibly could, and that not everything can change... but as I heard these arguments slip through my mouth, I knew that I had nothing. No answer except: No.
So, Toronto, here's to giving it a real try. A trial of true change, and acceptance. A trial of finding my love for this wonderful city in every way I can. With the perfect advice from my friend, I wrote a resentment list about Toronto. A list of everything I hate about it, and then a chance to see what I can do to change it. I HIGHLY recommend this as a problem-solving strategy by the way. It takes out the heated emotions and allows me to see where I'm being completely petty.
For example: I wrote that the people here are all egotistical and brash. So, in seeing that in writing, I see that it may be just a tad of a generalization ;) I mean, is it true that everyone who lives in "friendly Manitoba" is a welcoming beacon of sunshine? Obviously I know from experience this is not true.
Yes, people in TO tend to be a little bit more focused, and there are a lot of people rushing to get from place to place (hell, I fall into that category half of the time) but it does not mean they are bad or mean or sociopathic people. Being a different personality from me does not make someone bad. You'd think that is something I would have learned from all of my years of sesame street and Mr. Rogers, but for some of us, it takes a little longer ;)
So, I brace myself with a good book and some music (in case someone is being too obnoxious for my taste) as I head out to the TTC (which, by the way, for all the complaints I hear, and may partake in on a daily basis, is a hell of a lot better that waiting in minus 40 for 20 minutes for a bus. ) I wait my 4-7 minutes underground for the subway, and I try to appreciate it.
Toronto: I don't know how long I'm going to live here, but for the time being, I'm going to try to appreciate you for all you are. Eat at your thousands of restaurants, go to your many music shows/ theatre events/ movies playing at any time of the day, take your classes with your hundreds of well-trained and wonderfully talented people, and enjoy myself.
Love and kindness all.
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