Lessons From Boinkland

1.) The hardest part is keeping your head up and looking yourself in the eye in the mirror while you do that.

You try to look at yourself sexily but realize it just looks angry. You add a smile and it’s apologetic, a little self-deprecating. You look back down, and realize that with all this concentration on looking up, you’ve lost track of what you should have been doing with that glove, and now you’re in this weird crouch position and maybe you should shoot your leg out or something and oh hey that’s actually pretty hot —

“Lacy, keep your head up!” Sugar calls.

2.) Women’s magazines like to tell you that all women are snowflakes — by which they mean, we all hate some unique part of ourselves. The examples are usually something ridiculous, like ankles or nose bridges or ear lobes or some crap. We just obsess over these silly things, us girls! “Blah blah, I’m cross-eyed.” “Blah blah, there’s a hole in my scalp and my amygdala is exposed.”

But put thirty women of all different shapes, ages and sizes into a dance room and tell them to focus their dancing on their least favorite part, and they will all begin touching their stomachs. Every. Single. One.

3.) “I learned,” I announced to the “Burlesque For Better Body Image” workshop taught by a true master and co-Slutcracker, “that I guess I don’t like focusing on my ‘best’ feature. I mean, my breasts are pretty great, but there’s not many ways I can call attention to them that isn’t vulgar. It feels kind of dumb — like, I don’t know, shouldn’t I just point to them? Done. But hell, my stomach? I could freaking work that shit.

The rest of the class nodded in unison. “Yeah!” someone cried.

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  1. The Dance Complex in Cambridge, taught by a Ms Honey Suckle Duvet. I try not to use the word “fabulous” often, but it was pretty fabulous.

  2. That’s awesome. I think we’re all pretty interest in your burlesque life but we dont want to seem like those guys who comment on myspace porn, “Thanks for the ADD!” But keep writing about it.

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