Where to begin....perhaps where the seed was planted or at least when I became conscious of the seed that is. On June 14th, I blogged about my YCMTSU (you can’t make this shit up) experience in Born Naked...My New Personal Anthem. For those that didn’t read it, it involved meditation, my itunes shuffle (which is more like a crazy 8 ball) and Ru Paul’s song Born Naked.
As many of you know, I love the power of metaphor. And in my life right now, I’m feeling a little naked and vulnerable. And what better way for me to embrace being exposed and vulnerable than study burlesque. Plus I wanted something that would nurture my creativity so I can figure out what I want to do in the next chapter of my life. Sometimes you need to draw outside of the lines. For a person who is soon to lose her job, this may not be the typical approach to self discovery but when have I ever been typical, well at least not in the last 25 years. In that blog, I mockingly, or so I thought at the time, ended by saying that perhaps it was God’s way of telling me to do burlesque. I didn’t think of it much until I shared the story with a friend. Then I thought, “Who am I to ignore God? After all Lulu is a Wu Wu at heart and I love to merge the sacred and the profane.” It’s like a perfect blending of sweet and salty, like a chocolate covered pretzel. Yummy, right?
And in todays age, I do the obvious next step and google burlesque classes NYC. Little did I know there is a NY School of Burlesque. They offered a 1 hour class called the Ultimate Self Confidence Class. This would have been a great way to dip my toe to test the temperature of the water. But I had concert tickets with my sister on that day and I couldn’t wait a full month for it to be offered again. In fact, I had plans for the next date as well. And since patience is not a virtue I associate with myself, I committed to a 4 consecutive Sundays of 2 hour classes in the Essential Burlesque Series (Burlesque 101). I got a taste of the different aspects of burlesque. After all I’m not really a toe dipper, I pretty much jump first and look to see, after I have taken the leap if there is even any water in the pool.
First class we learned to twirl tassels. No dipping the toe, we jumped into the deep end and it was hot (innuendo intended). That being said, all my self judgements come up while I’m doing this. At points, I would want to bolt from the room. Yet my gut told me that if I address this it will have ripple effects in my life that will catapult me to embodying the best Lulu I can be. I love going to see Burlesque shows. I leave inspired wanting to do what they do with that finesse. I find it to be an amazing form of story telling with the performers owning their power in all it’s glory. And ever since I started, all I can do is think of costumes, music choice and imagine dance steps/reveals as I walk down the street listening to my iPod. I finally got excited about something again. Is it too corny to say that I find it, titillating.
As excited as I am, I never want to look like a fool. And after only 4 classes (well 5 I signed up for a class with a guest teacher too), I knew I was just an amateur wanna-be ecdysiast Isn’t that a great word. It means an erotic dancer who removes their clothes as a form of entertainment. There aren’t many opportunities to use the word so thanks for placating me.
Sorry, I digress...anyway, I wanted to find a way to fully embrace Burlesque with the possibility of performing. What better way to address my fears than getting almost naked (pasties with tassles and a fringe belt do count as articles of clothing) on stage with an audience. I wanted get better at this as quickly as possible. On a lark, and because it has worked before, I google Burlesque Camp. Bingo!!! the Burlesque Bikini Bootcamp, another burlesque school out of NYC, happened to be sponsoring a trip to Vegas baby. And it was just 2 1/2 weeks away, enough notice for the office and soon enough to fit in my patience endurance range. Well as a newbie that was more like a premature Burlesque Baby vs Babe, I called them to make sure I wasn’t biting off more than I could chew. As they say, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” I was told about their empowering philosophy and that the participants had a wide range of experience but most importantly they were so warm and welcoming that I signed up and booked my flight as soon as I hug up the phone. Oh, did I tell you, it’s not really classes, but rehearsal to learn the routine because we were going to perform in Vegas. So only time will tell if I put the whole elephant in my mouth or I’m just nibbling in it’s trunk.
They sent me a list of things to bring on the trip. The fishnets, pasties & boa didn’t intimidate me; however, the stage make up and body glitter ignited a little apprehension. I’m really not a glitter girl. But that was easily found at a local Ricky’s. I’m far from a tom boy or butch, but I basically walk out the door every day sans make up. I wasn’t always like that. About 15 years ago, I had made a conscious choice to stop wearing make up as I used it as a mask. So I guess that was the first attempt at letting myself be naked and vulnerable. I’m not a nun about it, I do wear it on special occasions but the term STAGE make up was intimidating. Knowing I needed a stronger foundation and a bold red lipstick, I put it on my shopping list. And because I was feeling uneasy, I waited to the last possible moment to purchase. In fact, I was fully packed with the exception of these last key pieces of “stage make up”.
I shut my laptop down in the office at 4 PM (I was leaving at 8 AM the next morning for the airport) and took a leisurely stroll to the MAC store. I expected to tell the person what I needed and be in and out, because I didn’t want to expose my insecurity. I told the person that greeted me at the door that I needed a foundation for performing. Well needless to say I wound up with more than foundation after all I also needed the proper brush, contour, etc.... He also showed me how to apply it all. When he asked me if I had contour, my inner voice may have escaped and replied with “God, no”, but since it was a little bit of an out of body experience, I can’t be sure. So I got a contour lesson too. I had seen the drag queens on Ru Paul’s Drag Race in the dressing room, pre-performance, with those super dark contour lines on their cheek bones that were seamlessly blended in by showtime. It seemed impossible. Now I know the magic trick. We found the perfect lipstick too. And you know what I liked it all and it didn’t feel like a mask. However, I had lost track of time and started to get anxious about the time since I had signed up for a spin class at 6 PM, or so I thought. It was about 5:15 and and they hadn’t started to ring me up yet. Even though my iphone, aka watch, doesn’t have a ticking 2nd hand, I heard it ticking loudly inside my head. As he was putting together the items I chose to purchase, we discovered that they were out of the red lipstick. They could have told me my mother had died. I almost started hyperventilating. I offered to buy the sample. They said no. However, there was the MAC Pro store down the block. They called them for me. Success, but time was loudly ticking away and I was getting very uptight. I don’t like to be late. Plus it was the last spin class for a week and so many of my Soul Cycle friends were going to be there. Classes are more like family reunions. So I practically run the block to the pro shop which is more like a show room on the 2nd floor (they gave me good instructions), and they have it at the counter waiting for me. Now it’s 5:30, I’m at 23rd and 5th and needed to get to Lafayette and W. 4th, sign in and change into my spin clothes. I may not have time for pre-class chit chat and hugs, what a travesty. My mind quickly debates the pro’s and con’s of a taxi vs subway....decisions, decisions.... And in midst of this monumental decision, my mind is flogging me over waiting until the last minute when I could have done this yesterday when I had tons of time. Despite my hyper-active mind, I manage hear a voice on my psychic ipod shuffle saying I’m ready now. Oh, I’m ready now. Oh, I’m ready now. Come get me from Ready by Kelly Clarkson. So I laugh, I guess I’m ready for Vegas Baby.
That chuckle only lasts so long in fact I think I insulted my mind and it was concerned that my deep well of trust would defeat its sinister attempts to stress me out and kill my optimism. My mind was a valiant and resilient warrior. I glared down the tracks from the platform of the subway as if I had this magnetic gaze that would pull the train in closer. Of course, all the time, doubting my decision and wondering if I should turn around and hail a taxi during rush hour. The train finally shows up and of course the pre-programmed signs and voice announcements on the subway are messed up like it’s Mercury retrograde and I can’t tell if I’m on a local or express. If I’m on the latter next stop is Canal Street which is way past my destination and my condemnatory mind is screeching, “You’re screwed.” Despite the nightmare my mind was concocting, I was indeed on a local train and get off at 8th St and Broadway at 5:45. So I sprint the 4 blocks and 1 Avenue. Yes I was counting. I get there and the lobby and sign in area is practically empty which never happens 10 minutes before a class. Then the nasty inner voice screams, “Schmuck you’re probably at the wrong studio”. I try to look at the sign posted with the class schedule but I can’t focus. I finally say, “Did I miss the class?”....how could that be. The very nice staff looks at me confused by my statement. I just reply to their blank stares with “...for Danny’s class.” They then smile and say no, it’s not until 6:30. Wow I was quite the inner drama queen, glad I didn’t take it out on anybody other than myself. Then I slightly started beating myself of for creating all this drama. And then when I realized, even if it was at 6, although rushed, I was on time and my mind, that was more like a persecutor, certainly didn’t need to go into overdrive. At one point my mind disguising itself as being considerate told me not rush, skip the class, just go home and forfeit the cost of the class, but that probably would have caused further self flagellation and if I did, I wouldn’t have discovered the tricks my mind was playing. Or maybe I would have when I looked further and I wouldn’t have gotten the benefit.
Since I had time, I walked to Starbucks for a trenta unsweetened iced tea. After all it is my work out libation of choice. And all I can think of now is: Wow, I created all this drama for naught. I could have stayed in the excited inspiration of my upcoming adventure but noooooooo, my mind wanted to cause some dissension. Once I was able to breath, I was just amazed about the power of the fictional scripts our minds are capable of writing. I knew the mind could be a prankster but I was a sucker this time. It even changed the time of the class in my memory banks. Although I wish I stopped it earlier, I guess realizing it even afterwards is still a success. Lesson acknowledged.
I then tested the durability of my new make up and spun in it. After all if it could endure a 45 minute kick ass class, I think it will endure stage lights for less than 4 minutes. Plus I got to pre-class chit chat and hugs and even left with a precious wheeeeee bracelet as a bon voyage gift.
So I venture off to Burlesque camp with both excitement and a little fear but, from experience, I have found the combination of the two to be a potent and transformative cocktail. And now that I know that my mind may have some sabotage plans, I’m forewarned and prepared. And as Kelly Clarkson says, Oh, I’m ready as my name on the flyer below is implying. Or as I would say Wheeeeeee!!!!
Posts
