Recently (yesterday), I went corset shopping. Not the sort of lingerie I normally buy, tbh (because you all wanted to know this), but it was becoming increasingly clear that a corset was a necessity.
I attend burlesque classes. It’s fun and feminine and yes, technically it is stripping, but a classier type of stripping, yes? We do a whole dance routine around it. During our first few classes (way back in September) our instructor impressed upon us the importance of taking on a character, a persona, a name (no, I’m not telling*) and that the removal of clothes within the story has “contextual relevance”. So, for example, when we danced to the Pink Panther music, the story was that we were women masquerading as a male detective…as the clothes came off it was revealed (fnarr) that we were, in fact, women…not just any women but jewel thieves! (Guess where the jewels came from? Ha!) See, it’s cheeky, not slutty, seductive, not aggressive. Anyway, all of this led to the corset.
Soon we are doing an old fashioned “glamour” burlesque routine. With a chair. (I’m 100% going to fall off/over/trip/get caught in it, but that’s beside the point.) Our instructor suggested the corset as part of the outfit. So I dondered through to Glasgow. It was a bit of a revelation.
Did you know you’re meant to hydrate before wearing a corset? You have to hydrate and eat. You should be calm and relaxed. When being laced into it you’re meant to chat away as normal. This should ensure that while the corset is tight, it’s not so restrictive as to make you faint. You chose the corset size by taking a waist measurement, minus four inches. (All of this information from a very fierce Glaswegian lady who has been wearing corsets for 30 years…) There were mortifying bits; including being felt up by the fierce Glaswegian, “ooh, squidgy” was the highlight…hm. And, man, was I nervous when I called my friend (amazing moral support) over to see the end result…I should have videoed her reaction, it was both hilarious (an actual leap backwards and a blur of words) and so good for my ego (“your BOOBS!”).
I’m still not sure what I think about the fact that I now own a corset, I felt very aware, beforehand, of the negative connotations of a garment so restrictive by its very nature, that literally tugs you into the shape meant to be most alluring to men, that women have worn so tight that they faint, for vanity…but honest to miscellaneous deity, I loved it. I couldn’t have predicted the change in my attitude. In the space of two hours I went from hiding in the dressing room to flootering around the shop, perusing the other merchandise (there was a rubber and section…boggled) and generally feeling pretty damn good about myself. I was fairly surprised to find that it wasn’t as restrictive (both physically or mentally) as I thought, although taking off shoes in a corset…not the easiest thing I’ve ever done. So yes, that was my day yesterday. We immediately went for dinner and a truly excellent pudding, this was possibly my subconscious way of rebelling against the restriction I’d just placed myself under? I think yes.
Buying the corset was the first step, dancing in it is going to be a whole new mission…
* Actually, if anyone wants to suggest a burlesque name for me, feel free in the comments.
It’s surprisingly difficult to think of seven things people don’t know about me that I don’t want them to know. I could list seven obvious things, like how I have a touch of the drama queen from time to time. Or that I like books. Or that my hair is black…although, actually that could be one. Since I have a starting point, here goes:
My hair is black. Out of a bottle now, of course, but when I was born, right up until the age of 10 my hair was jet black, raven black. Aged 10 genetics kicked in and I went grey—100 per cent. Which is a pain in the arse, but now that I’m out of my teens (barely, obv), I can see the joy in having rather nice, silvery grey hair (not that anyone is going to see it for at least another 15 years).
To continue on with the physical attributes? I don’t know, maybe.
My eyes are brown, they are sometimes light hazel, which I dislike, tbh, they’re at their best when chocolately brown. I’m surprisingly vain. Yes, surprisingly. *steely glare*
I have no control over my facial expressions, you can tell exactly what I’m thinking as I think it. Which is a stone cold bitch, tbh. Also, when I am *cough* less than honest the pitch of my voice rises. Yes, I am delighted to be such an open book. I am equally delighted that I had to be caught out many times for someone to figure this tell out. 😐
I’m good at keeping secrets. Which is a damn good thing because people tell me theirs.
I can’t spell (without the aid of spell check/the OED/Google/much retyping) rhythm or rhyme, have trouble differentiating between breathe and breath on the spur of the moment, and recently discovered “judgement” could be spelled “judgment”.
I mentioned above the touch of drama queen? Well, I also have a touch of the gibbering crazies. That mad glint drives me to do stupid things and think stupid thoughts. Feelings of paranoia happen and whenever these rise up I require a slap in the face and a sharp “cop on”, which is good because that’s all I ever bloody get (thanks, lads) (OK, I lied, sometimes I get hug. Which is nice.).
It was suggested that I don’t have to be honest in this list, with this in mind I present you with three statements, one is the truth. Feel free to choose your preferred story.
- I’m the mother of two adorable, yet utterly badly behaved children named Pubert and Pubertina.
- I once dislocated my shoulder in a hilarious pratfall during a job interview a few weeks after concussing myself in yet another sidesplitting incident.
- I do not have one tattoo, as I have previously stated. I, in fact, have two tattoos. The second (but chronologically first) happened in Boston after the Red Sox won the World Series. I refuse to disclose what it is, or where it is.
(This blog post, my first since January, is a result of being awarded a “versatile blogger” badge from @nettiewriter. Thanks Nettie! In thinking about this post aloud on Twitter, others felt the need to butt in (joking!) and tell me some things about myself…they are:
1.pernickety 2.eyeliner 3.stripper 3.irish 5.clever 6.loose 7.funny
1) Young 2) Pedantic 3) Irritating 4) Irritatingly young 5) Youthfully pedantic 6) Pedantically irritating 7) Irish (from @janetravers)
(Updated 7 things from @marzillk, she gets extra points for not being insulting!)
I know you have a tattoo, you love em-dashes, you do burlesque dancing, you can’t mambo & your flat overlooks a graveyard.
This is interesting, because Irish came up twice, which I wasn’t expecting! I was also delighted to see “stripper”, “irritating” and “loose” there. You know me so well…Feel free to add to the many insults listed above in the comments section.)