Let me start off by saying I am a
Burlesque dancer. No- I do not sing. I dance. The Christina
Aguilera/Cher film "Burlesque" should have been called "Cabaret:
Parte Deux" because that's what it was (with the exception of the "I
am a good girl" feather fan routine. Bravo X-tina). Basically, I dance around in
glittery costumes and take them off to reveal nothing more than pasties (nipple
covers) and a g-string every other weekend. And I love it.
So there. Let's move on.
The first week of December 2013 marked the 1-year
'burly-versary' of my premier performance as a burlesque dancer. A small feat
to some, but to me (the awkward chick who loathes attention) it marks the baby step
that turned into a rabbit hole of 'firsts'. It marks my first step toward truly
turning the art in my head into something palpable for others to enjoy and
speculate. It was the first time I listened to my instincts without hesitation and it has paid off ten-fold. It was my first time conquering stage fright,
body dysmorphia, and the beginning of self-acceptance. Cherry= popped. I'd
had my doubts, (which I'll make sure to pick apart in later posts) but for now
let's focus on the positive.
I'd hoped to commemorate my 1 year in Burlesque
this December with a bang; a busy week full of 4 performances (one being my
first out-of-towner) and debuting two new numbers. However, the 'icepocalypse' ( freak ice storm) of
North Texas had it's way with me and out went that dream as soon as my car door
was frozen shut on Friday morning. I wanted to throw my hands up and say,
"FUCK IT. Fuck it all- maybe this is a sign that I'm done with
this!" Thoughts were reeling through my head about how much burlesque has
taken out of me this year. Keep in mind that I'm still in school full-time and
working.
The weekly hours spent practicing, the bruises,
the fatigue.
The lack of social life I seem to have outside
of gay bars and theaters, the schmoozing.
All the goddamn girl talk ~ pfft~ the drama of
it all.
The emotional energy spent hiding it from
people.
The emotional energy spent grappling with my body issues.
The emotional energy spent grappling with my body issues.
The blood, the sweat, the tears, the glitter- that
shit sticks to EVERY. THING.
The costs, the commutes, the time, the pay...
"STOP!” I finally had to say.
Then I thought of what burlesque has given me in
return. A year of self-discovery, no less. I mean, what
better way to discover yourself than taking your top off and shaking it for
on-lookers, right? It's not like that at all, I promise.
I will say that burlesque has given me priceless
gifts that seemed like catastrophes at the time. Screwing up royally on-stage
has taught me that improv can be a mistake with a healthy layer of confidence
slathered on top. Rejection from festivals has taught me to thicken my skin.
Acceptance to festivals has taught me that when you stand out people notice- so
keep standing out. Competition just means that I need to bring my
A-game. Naked casual chats among other birthday-suit clad performers in
dressing rooms have taught me that my body is incomparable to others and jiggly
in all the right places (I missed out on locker room mentality in high school).
Weather cluster fucks have taught me that...well, they haven't taught me
anything except for shit happens- just deal with it.
All of the brick-shitting, excessive shaving,
shameless social media plugging, femininity crises, last minute choreography, late
night costuming, and creepy come-ons have been worth it- just to say that I'm a
more complete person.
I've made serious sacrifices for my newfound art
as well. In September, I changed my major to a less demanding- and ultimately
more fulfilling- one in order to have more time to dance around in my
panties. No regrets whatsoever.
I constantly have to hear the nagging
“could of, would of, should of's” from my parents who have their reservations
about any creative field- let alone
trotting on-stage half-naked.
I also must accept the fact that the exposure I
get from being part of an industry with sexual connotation limits my career
opportunities for the future.
~Prudes, man~
But I know in my heart that pursuing such a
risqué field is absolutely worth the joy I feel on-stage. And that same joy
reverberates out into my audience. I feel untouchable there. It's the only
place I don't feel awkward, and it takes A LOT for that to happen to me. Me-
"The. biggest. square. ever.", as my twin brother would
say in reference to my first 17 years of life. "Late bloomer to the max"
is also a term of endearment. He's an ass, but he's also completely
correct.
Burlesque has helped me get over the shy, geeky
girl I was and become a confident & competent equally geeky woman. The
unwavering confidence that the strip-tease art has given me now helps me in all
the pieces of my life. Whether that be flirting unashamedly with a cute guy
(still working on that bit) or doing a silly skit for French class. What once
seemed impossible is now just a lifestyle. Now, friends know burlesque to
simply be a part of my personality. I used to hide my weekend outings under the
guise of "theater rehearsal", but now I proudly invite coworkers to
shows (and they love it).
Here's to several more years of unflattering
camera angles, glitter-filled orifices (yeah- it happens), being called a
'stripper' (yeah- it happens...to be true), buying rhinestones instead of buying dinner, non-accepting family members,
non-conformist encouragers, and general fabulousness.
Arielle/ Elle
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