Burlesque to Boudoir: Reclaiming My Body. Part 5

Continued from part 4.

August 2018

Alright Tinka, you kicked butt in June. Your two performances you did then were solid. If you do them again, you could win!

Dottie Stacato is the 'pick up artist' for the show. She picks up the clothes and tips between performances and returns them to us. She was the closest person I have had to a mentor going through the burlesque process.

She was the one who originally gave me advice about how long performance songs should be. How many articles of clothing should be taken off.

We didn't talk a lot. But she taught me a couple things. She let me know a few important things. Enough to be encouraging. Enough to consider her the only mentor I had in the burlesque world.

It's something you may have heard of in the burlesque/DRAG world: "Drag/Show Mothers." These are mentors who have performed, know how to do make-up, networking, and more.

I kept hearing that the burlesque world is a family, camaraderie. I never really felt that.

I tried really hard to be polite, professional, on time, grateful, thankful, and generally positive to anyone and everyone around me when I was out performing.

I was starting out. I didn't have a support system in the burlesque community. I was independent. I was basically alone.

Without anyone to vouch for me, I had to be on my best behavior all the time. Not that I wouldn't be, I just had to be extra careful. One negative rumor about you, and you can kiss any bookings good-bye.

By this time, my fourth performance in burlesque at the amateur competition, I basically knew, this was it; my last shot.

I only had one or two friends coming out to support me at this point. I didn't have friends in the bar scene or the community.

I had to work the audience hard enough that they would like me enough to pick me at the end.

These people don't know me. There's a good chance they never will. I don't want to be famous.

I want to be accepted. Included. I wasn't being embraced in the community like I had hoped.

"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

I went alone. But If I could have gone with people, I would have.

My dear friend Kitty was there at this last performance.

I came up with a tagline for myself: What I lack in skill, I make up for in imperfection.

When the tagline was read, the host said, "What she (Tinka) lacks in skill, she makes up for in incompetence." This is not the first time the host made fun of me in my introduction. Kitty told me afterwards she believed that the host may have done that intentionally.

As if snagging my fishnets seconds before going on stage wasn't enough, I get insulted too. I would have understood if the host and I were friends, but we weren't.

Performing is scary. This is an amateur competition. Nerves are shaking. I filled out the performance notes as required weeks ago, and the host gets them wrong. Whether or not it was intentional, I will never know.

To get made fun of, seconds before going on stage, no matter how many times you've done it, no matter how many times you've been made fun of, it's not something you're prepared for.

But what can you do? The show must go on. So I do. I give the stage my all. I give the crowd my all.

Seriously. YOUR ALL TINKA!

You have never felt more sexy on stage.

You've done everything right on your journey. You've done everything you can do. You've grown and improved.

You are damn proud of yourself. And no one can take that away from you.

Someday, you will look at these photos and say, "Look what I did."

"Look at what I had the guts to do."

"Look! You actually had an ass for a split second."

No, you weren't perfect. You never were going to be. You knew that. But damn you tried hard.

You were strong. You were powerful. And you loved it.

But the moment is fleeting.

It won't last: not the teasing, not the pride, neither a win nor a loss.

You have the memory. The story. The costumes hanging in your closet.

You were a queen. The woman who handed you a five dollar bill when you took your bows said so. That doesn't happen every day.

In the end, the winner, Oodah Lolly, the one in the green kilt won the night. Was it because she was the host's favorite? Possibly. Am I bitter? No. I stand by that anyone who wins, earned and deserves the win.

Am I sad? A little. But only because I didn't know how fleeting this moment would be. I am a little sad in retrospect. But aren't lots of bittersweet memories? I don't have those breasts and that clean stomach anymore.

But that's another story.

See you in Part 6.