Burlesque to Boudoir: Reclaiming My Body. Part 3

Continued from Part 2

After May 2017

Due to various scheduling conflicts and not wanting to be an obnoxious try-hard at the amateur competition, I stayed away for a while. Two losses in two months was a sign. I needed to improve. Summer was coming. There were other things I wanted to do with my time besides rehearse for a performance.

I don't quite remember how it happened, but I saw an ad come up in my Facebook feed: beginner pole dancing classes. I was in!

This was something I always wanted to try. When a friend asked how it went, I said, "Put it this way, I was proportionally the largest person wearing the least amount of clothing...and my thighs hurt."

If you haven't figured it out by now, the level of confidence/lack of shame I have is a veil. I have massive insecurities and anxiety. There are certain ways I deal with it. There are certain people's opinions who mean a lot to me: my husband, my parents, specific close friends. And those whose opinions mean nothing to me: pretty much everyone else.

But the opinions who hurt the most are my own. Everyone is their own worst critic, right? I make a meal or a dish and I warn what may be wrong with it before it is even served. Someone calls my name at my workplace and my response is, "What did I do wrong?" I have been told these are trauma responses. To what: that's another story. At this point, I'm in my thirties and I think I have found mostly healthy coping mechanisms and know the root of those traumas.

But I digress. Pole class! Not only did I sign up for beginner classes, I signed up for a class on prepping and improving for performing. How apt for me.

For six weeks, twice a week, I took these classes. I felt myself grow stronger, but I also cried a lot...Be brave enough to suck at something new. And boy did I suck. I didn't get anymore graceful or elegant. I didn't feel more sexy. But maybe a little stronger and more flexible. Maybe a little more confident. Even while writing this I feel the nausea of awkwardness and tears growing in my eyes of how terrible I was sometimes.

Don't get me wrong there were times I felt amazing. These women were amazing, encouraging, dynamic, incredible, beautiful. I felt uplifted to be among them. And then there there were times I felt like the fourth one on the evolutionary chart. It's often easier to remember the hard times more than the good when struggling with something new, especially when you want to be good and you aren't.

Prime example: just days after my first classes, I was ecstatic by this bruise under my arm. They're called 'pole kisses.' It meant I was growing and improving.

I took an introductory class to aerial silks and inverted on the first class

But all I could think of in this picture was my stomach hanging out when I saw this.

It took a lot of coaching and direction to get into a quasi-graceful pose for this picture. Even then, I don't know what to do with my face besides smile.

And then I found out WHY there was a performance prep class...

And I was insane enough to sign up.

What have I done? What am I doing?

I decided to do a variation of my 'Stronger' by Britney Spears performance. I had some VERY basic pole steps. I had my previous routine. I think I can do this.

I went to more classes to try to improve on my skills before the student showcase. And then I made the mistake of going to a class that was actually an advanced class that was preparing for the student showcase in a group number. This was the post I made that night, crying my eyes out after I got home on my stationary bike:

January 2, 2018

Hello lovelies...this is going to be a long one, so hang on...

I have always enjoyed dancing and performing, and I will be the first to admit, I was never the best. I am pretty sure I was banned from front row center position (the position of the most talented in class) from dance class when I screwed up in the big recital when I was 7 or 8. From then on, I was always positioned on the ends. When my grades started to suffer in middle school, I stopped taking dance class. I regret it.

I danced with a pair of fabulous friends in high school talent shows. They were both more talented than me. I struggled to keep up. The three of us grew to be close friends. 12 years out of high school, they're two of the few I see from back then.

When I was 21, I tried stand-up comedy on an amateur night, no one laughed.

Last year I decided to perform burlesque at The Nudie Nubie Show - An Amateur Reveal for the first time. I hadn't danced on stage since I was 16. I was scared to the point that the night I performed, my friends literally thought I was on drugs. I fell twice in one performance, and forgot nearly all the steps in the other performance that night. I still have not brought myself to watch the videos of my performance. By some miracle (lots of very supportive friends) I made it to the top three. My friends will tell you, I got the most applause, which would determine the winner. The judge picked one of the other two girls to win, most likely for their skill and polish, both of which I lacked.

The last several weeks I have been taking pole classes at Knockout Bodies Pole Dance and Fitness Studio. The first night of class I bore the most skin, fat, and inexperience. I cried when I couldn't do a pole climb, so I made it my goal to do so. Three weeks later, I did it.

Tonight at class, I danced with girls with far more skill than myself. They do amazing moves in spike heels that I can barely do barefoot. I missed turns. I had difficulty with floor work. I looked like a deer in the headlights when the girls all did advanced versions of a move that I didn't even know the building blocks of.

Tonight I cried my way home. Tonight I felt like a warthog trying to keep up with gazelles. I was a busted pixie trying to fly with angels. I was a court jester standing by queens. Tonight, I sobbed my way writing through this post.

Tomorrow...tomorrow I rise. Tomorrow I take today's defeat and I leave it behind. Tomorrow I will have learned from tonight's lesson and bettered myself.

When I put my head on the pillow tonight, I will remind myself I am passionate, interesting, fearless, beautiful, inspired, clever, have great boobs, and a fantastic life. I have the love and support of the fantastic Mr. Boudit, family, friends, colleagues, and classmates.

Today, and far too many times before; I lost. Tomorrow: I rise. And when I rise, I can win. I will win.

TL, DR: I've failed too much to not succeed eventually.

...

...

I still read that post and cry. It was nearly four years ago, but I feel it all the same. But nothing lasts. Not even failure. I did two different pole performances at my time attending the studio. I changed jobs, they changed locations.

Do I miss pole classes? Sometimes. Hobbies change and evolve. I became involved with a new start up renaissance fair.

Since the last burlesque performance I traveled...

I did some modeling...

I continued to be my ridiculous self...

But as I said before: nothing lasts.

I learned a new dance number at the pole dance studio. I was inspired to take another childhood performance and update it for the burlesque stage.

Tinka Boudit is coming back to compete. She's ready...

In part 4...June 2018