Introducing Scarlett Sinsation

Last Friday was my burlesque debut.  My first time performing on stage. The afternoon was slightly stressful and more than once I was close to tears.  I stress about the stupidest shit!

I love all things girlie, but I suck at them: makeup, hair, cute outfits.  I just don't have a clue.  Nobody taught me this stuff growing up.  So I decided to leave my makeup and hair to professionals.  This was my debut and I'd spend the money to have other people make me look fabulous.  This did not work out so well.

My hair cut came out great - the style not so much.  It took about an hour to do four barrel curls, which then left no time to do much with the back.  It was determined I probably should have came in the night before to do pin curls and let them set.  I rushed to get my daughter from daycare and put in my contacts so I could head to my makeup appointment.  I walked in and my daughter pursed her lips and tried not to laugh at me. She did not succeed.

Not my most flattering look.

Makeup was a little better.  It was fun to sit and have someone make me up.  But she kept asking me questions  I couldn't answer. I didn't know what colors I wanted or how I wanted it to look. I wanted dramatic, bold, different. I'd be on stage. What colors would look good on me and stand out on stage?  I wanted huge lashes but she was worried they would be too heavy for my first time and picked some smaller ones that didn't quite give me the look I wanted.  My daughter approved of the makeup, at least.

After putting on my corset, fishnets, tutu and bootie shorts I was starting to feel sexy enough to be on stage.  But all I saw when I looked in the mirror was a middle-aged, not-so-hot,trying to recapture something in her life, woman.  My hair was coming out of the rolls already so I took down the sides and pinned them up and got out the curling wand and flat iron to curl the back.

Picture my daughter took using my phone.

Me: "Do I look fabulous?"
Bratty 9-year-old fashion guru, giving me the so-so hand motion: "From the neck down.  Your hair ruins it."

*sigh*  It is what it is.

I headed out, on my own, to meet up with the rest of my class so we could do a practice run on the stage.  We'd been practicing in a really small room and were all worried about the difference between that and a stage.  I left in plenty of time.  I should have arrived 15 minutes early.  Instead I arrived 20 minutes late. Such is the life of someone who gets lost everywhere she goes.  My damn iPhone maps app doesn't navigate.  It gives you directions, but you have to be looking at the phone, reading and hitting next.  This is not conducive to driving in heavy traffic in Sacramento.  So of course I missed part of the directions and wound up lost. More than once.  At one point I pulled over and was viciously beating my steering wheel, screaming "Fuck, fuck, stupid fucking iPhone", trying not to ruin my makeup with tears, wondering why I have such a horrible sense of direction. Yes, yes, I have since learned how the streets in Sacramento work: letter streets go one way, number streets  intersect, if the address you want is 2419 J Street then that means it's between 24th and 25th streets on J Street, etc.  I did make it shortly after that. My maps app sent me in a huge circle that involved two different freeways and it turned out I really was just around the corner from where I needed to be.  I seriously need someone to take pity and buy me a navigation system!  Whenever I need navigation, I miss my Droid.

I finally made it in time to do half a practice run.  At this point I was direly in need of a drink.  My nerves were shot. I hate driving. I hate traffic.  I hate being lost.  I hate being late.  I'd just gone through all four!  I When the waiter asked what I wanted I had no idea - all I could come up with was "Not wine".   I wanted something strong that would ease my anxiety and get me feeling happy and outgoing FAST.  He recommended Captain Morgan, sprite and a lime or lemon or something.  It was good, and it was strong, and I had several that night.  I owe Mona's husband big time. He got the drink ordered for me and ended up paying for it because I was running around being social.  He also kept the phone and money I lamely left just sitting on the counter as I wandered around the bar.

During all of this I was texting one of my best friends, who was driving 2.5 hours to watch me.  Who could ask for a better friend?  I got lost.  She got lost.  We finally both got where we needed to be. At pretty much the same time. You would think this meant she would be there in plenty of time to actually watch me perform.  You would be wrong.

Text from friend at about 8:40: "We're in a parking garage, gonna get dressed..."
Text from me to friend at 9:22: "Get here!!"


Texts back and forth beginning at 9:52
Friend: "Almost done."
Me: "We are going on any minute."
Friend: "Figures! I'm waiting on [insert name of sister here], grrr"
Me: "I don't care if you are naked. I'm on in minutes.  And almost everyone bailed."


Yah, she walked in about two minutes after I performed. I was slightly disheartened.  But she did show up and we got to hang out and dance part of the night.  Hopefully her sister had a great birthday and it was worth being super late and missing the main point of driving that far.

And almost everyone did bail.  My husband's friends didn't show.  Thank goodness my friend's daughter's softball tournament was cancelled and she and her husband were able to come.  I know it sounds lame and pathetic, but this 1.5 minute performance was important to me. I wanted my friends to come out and support me.  So the fact that my friends who live near Sac couldn't take time out of their lives to come out and watch me really hurt my feelings.  I would have been (and have been) there for them.  They had a month's notice on this.  A few made up excuses at the last minute, one of which I knew was bullshit because that same person had replied to the invite two weeks earlier that they weren't going.  At least be honest about not being there!

So, anyway, the night turned out fine. I loved every minute of being on stage and of dancing and talking with all the Sizzling Sirens (especially my girl crush, Sass Herass, who will be talked about in more detail in my next post) and the other students.  I thoroughly enjoyed walking around in heels,a corset, fishnets and bootie shorts with my butt hanging out (the pictures show me wearing a tutu, but I left that off most of the night).  Where else can an almost-40-year-old woman do that comfortably?

Here are some pictures from the event.  The gorgeous woman kneeling in front is our amazing instructor, Colette Corbeau, now known as Indiana Bones.  To the left, with short blonde hair, is another amazing instructor, Meowie Wowie.  Despite not looking anything alike, two different Sirens mistook me from behind as Meowie.  Sass almost grabbed my ass thinking I was her, which would have been absolutely fine with me.  To the right is a fabulous fellow student, Mona S'Amor, who I'm so glad to have met, even if she is moving out of state next month and abandoning me. She's irritatingly cute AND sewed part of her outfit and had awesome makeup.  I still love her, though!

The other performers didn't actually wear masks.  I'm attempting to protect their identities and
 couldn't figure out how to blur the faces.

Stay tuned for more about my Burlesque experiences.  I'm hoping to get permission from all the participants to post the link from the video soon.