Put Your Hands on Me

I recently started my second Burlesque workshop series.  I spent four weeks previously working with Indiana Bones, formerly known as Colette Corbeau, learning choreography set to Trent Reznor and Karen O's rendition of "Immigrant Song".  Here's the video of our performance.  I am slightly embarrassed by this.  In part because I screw up and in part because there's just some guilty feelings over being an almost-middle-aged mom of 4 doing a bootie shake on stage in public. I'm the first one to walk out on stage. My awesome friends all assumed I was the very cute, very good second person to walk out, but that was our instructor.

This time around my instructor is my girl crush, Sass Herass.  My crush developed at the first live Burlesque show I went to at Harlow's.  I pretty much drool all over and make an idiot of myself whenever I'm around her.  Such is the nature of crushes, I suppose, even at my age.  Sass's class performed to Joi's "Lick" at Fishnet Friday and I can't even begin to tell you how turned on I was by the end of that number.  Or pretty much every time I hear it.

I left class the last two weeks sweaty, excited, and really nervous.  Each Siren has a unique personality and teaching style.  I thoroughly enjoyed Colette's series and think it was the perfect starting point for me.  We learned the routine starting at the beginning and moved straight through to the end. Colette made a video for us to practice with at home, and the moves weren't too difficult.  It was sexy, in a cute kind of way.  With Sass, she teaches chunks of the routine, not necessarily in order.  She reminds me of the Tazmanian Devil - a whirlwind of activity, her mind moving faster than her body or mouth.  The class was exciting, the moves incredibly sexy and fast, and I just hope I can keep up and not look like a spazzed out monkey on stage.  Let me tell you, though, I do love putting my hands on myself to the sounds of "Put Your Hands on Me" by Joss Stone.

The thing I love about Burlesque is that it's not about everyone doing the exact same move in the exact same way.  It's not about perfection.  It's about feeling the music and how it speaks to you. It's about moving in ways that make you feel comfortable and sexy.  It's about touching yourself the way you want to be touched.  Music is my savior.  That sounds dramatic, but it really saves me when I'm down or in a pissy mood - which is almost always. You know that weird older lady driving down the freeway dancing in her seat and obviously singing loudly and probably horribly?  Wearing red fishnets, a corset and tutu?  Yep, that would be me. I'm not a great dancer but that doesn't stop me from really enjoying it.  My daughters find it mortifying, because in the rare instances that I actually cook or clean, I'm blaring these songs and dancing seductively (okay, attempting to dance seductively) around the house.


9-year-old very opinionated brat, snickering: "What are you doing, Mom?  You look funny. You do weird things with your mouth."


17.5-year-old, covering her eyes: "I can not watch my mom move like this. There's something just so wrong about it."  This was said after walking downstairs and into the living room right as I shimmied all the way down, put my hands between my knees and pressed them open and then shut again, stuck my behind in the air and rolled back up.  A move you can see in the above video. I don't ask my girls to watch me. I usually practice when I think they're otherwise occupied, but they seem to have a sixth sense and walk in as soon as I start.

Over the past few weeks I've learned a few things.

1. Do not go to a new hair stylist the day of the performance.
2. Not everyone responds to the same type of music in the same way.  I had a really hard time getting into my first performance.  "Immigrant Song" isn't a song I'd normally choose for dancing.  I didn't feel sexy listening to the song.  It didn't make my body start to move before I even realized what was happening.  Songs like "Lick", "Sail", and "Put Your Hands on Me", however, make me want to touch myself all over immediately.  It's much easier to feel sexy and just focus on how my body wants to respond to these songs, so I feel much less self conscious performing to them.
3. I hate putting together costumes.  I'm not the type of person who can go to random thrift shops and stores and piece together a cute outfit. I don't sew.  I basically need an entire outfit already put together for me. So figuring out what to wear for my short stint on stage stresses me out more than actually performing.
4. I should not order three corsets just because I'm so excited after my first class and I'm sure I'll wear them again.  Especially since each instructor has an idea of what they want you to wear and it's not anything I've already spent too much money on.  Personally I think they're overdoing the "all black with some accent color" theme. Especially since the stage has a dark background and we blend into it wearing black.
5. I am not as big as I think I am - all three corsets are too big, but I've worn them and can't return them.  Corsets are supposed to be tight and uncomfortable and have skin showing in the back.  Mine are laced completely closed and I can still breath and move comfortable and pull them away from my body.  This is not helpful in making me look smaller, which is, in addition to pushing up my saggy sad boobs that were ruined by breast feeding, the whole point of corsets.   

Wanna see my next performance? Or just lots of sexy women running around scantily clad? Then check this out.

Fishnet Friday at Marilyn's on K! See you there!

Burlesque and Me

There was a time in my life I contemplated becoming a stripper.  I like to dance, back then my body was in good shape.  I'd split up from my first husband and was making $800 a month.  I needed some cash.  There were no stripclubs nearby, but there was "bikini dancing".  Basically stripping down to a bikini/bra and underwear.  A pole could be involved if you were so inclined.  Perfect, I wouldn't have to get fully naked (a good thing since my breasts and ass looked like they'd been clawed by an angry bear thanks to the joys of pregnancy a few years earlier).

My husband and I were still kind of seeing each other and we decided to go check things out.  Dimly lit room, alcohol, music, a stage with a pole.  We watched a few girls.  They all had nice bodies, a few actually knew how to use the pole,  and some could move their bodies seductively. Others looked bored and stiff.   "I can do this," I thought.  "You can do this," my ex said.  We learned they had an amateur night once a week.  So we went. And I chickened out.  My stripping career was not meant to be...

Fast forward 15 years.  This past year I've gone to three exotic dance classes.  These were fun because they involved a bunch of women in work out clothes drinking and dancing. But I didn't love it. I'd rather go to a club with a good DJ and get my groove on.  I tried pole dancing class. I hated it.  I didn't feel sexy at all, bruised the shit out of my upper arm, and was ready to leave halfway through the class. 

And then came Burlesque. First the movie came out - now my all time favorite movie. Christina Aguilera was amazing. 

I started searching for local classes and found a workshop series and some upcoming performances.  I dragged my husband and friends to watch one of the shows and knew as I watched that this was something I had to try.  I left the show with two new girl crushes and an overwhelming desire to try this out for myself.

Last weekend I went to Burlesque 101: a two-hour introductory class.  I was a nervous wreck.  Let's see, I have social anxiety and I hate driving and here I was headed into downtown Sacramento to a class completely on my own.  The other participants all came with friends, but I didn't have any friends.  Well, not any friends who were willing to give up a Sunday afternoon to take Burlesque 101 with me.

 "I shouldn't be here.  I'll look like an idiot trying to do it. Look at that girl. She obviously has dance experience.  Only dancers stretch like that.  Oh, look at those two. They even came dressed in fishnets and vests. I do not belong here.  I'm an idiot for thinking I can do this."  That was my internal conversation for about 25 minutes, since I showed up 15 minutes early and we started 10 minutes late waiting for some stragglers.

We sat in a circle, introduced ourselves, and told everyone what brought us there.  I was feeling a little more comfortable.  The instructor/owner explained her Burlesque philosophy and explained that the dancing is about us and nobody else.  We were instructed to look ourselves in the eyes in the mirror and to touch ourselves the way we want a lover to touch us. She explained that we needed to let our bodies guide us.  If her arm was straight up and ours wanted to go to the side, then go to the side.  This wasn't cheerleading where everything must be sharp and the same.   This was sounding better and better.

Then the music started and we began stretching and I knew I was going to love it.  I can't explain what happens to me when I hear certain music.  My mood instantly improves and my hips start moving.  My kids find it really embarrassing. My favorite act during the show we watched was one where there was a puppet master and puppet. It was an amazing act.  When they get the video posted I'll link it here.  It blew me away. And when the song played that night, I turned to my husband and told him I absolutely had to do Burlesque.  When it played during class I was certain that this would not be my last class.  It's "Sail" by Awolnation.  I have to touch myself and dance when I hear this song.  I was in heaven the entire two hours of the class.  At one point we were all practicing and the instructor forgot where she was.

"I was watching YOU and lost track of what I was doing," she exclaimed pointing at me.  I laughed nervously but was really flattered. 

After the class was over, she called me over and gave me the CD we'd been listening to and told me she knew how hard it was to go to something like this alone and that she really hoped I'd come back.  So what did I do? I immediately went home and signed up for their 4-week performance workshop series.  I start this Thursday and on October 7 I'll perform at Fishnet Friday with the rest of my classmates.

I'm probably crazy.  There's a good chance I'll make a total idiot of myself.  But it's been a really long time since I lost myself in something and enjoyed it so much.  I'd given up on feeling excited about anything.  So, here I go.  Wish me luck!