I am swaddled in cardboard and glitter, lying in wait behind the curtains. My costume is a brilliant abomination; it adds a foot in every direction of my body. My bulk topped off with a foot tall wig, stuffed with cotton and adorned with a peacock feather. My face deepened with reds, purples, and a beauty mark the size of the pearls on my collar. A transformation from woman to wardrobe, complete with a opening door filled with prop clothing.

Marie Antoinette had a tryst with IKEA, and birthed me.

I have never felt more joy.

The joy of accepting a fantastic ridiculousness and running freely with every second of it.

A joy shared among me and my counterpart, Emily. Both of us took turns playing Madame de la Grande Bouche (Lady of the Big Mouth). The Madame, now magically transformed into a wardrobe, an old opera singer with delusions of grandeur.

She was amazing, a vision in cardboard. Every single moment she was on stage she demanded attention. I was fully given the excuse to go ham. To let go of all inhibitions and let campy nature flow through. Every hand gesture vain and pointed, singing with my jaw quivering, and eyes completely blank.

I lie in wait behind the curtains, jostled and moved like an unwanted tetris block. To get me anywhere took decent effort, a combination of waddling and pushing. I emerge, feeling light hit me before I see it. I see the coloured lights, and out of the corner of my eye the silhouettes of the audience. They glow. The others on stage glow. The room glows.

Shed thoughts, be here. Enjoy the absurdity.

The scene is simple. The wardrobe attempts to rehearse a solo, while a bemused Belle watches, trying to interrupt in search of food. Went a little something like this:

B:

Excuse me Ma’am?

W:

AAAAAAAAAhhhhaaaAAAAAHHHHHaaaaaaaaaaaaaOOOOOOOOOoooOOoooOoOomamamiaMamamiaMAMAMIA (Big finale) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

B:

I’ll… find help myself then.

And then, finding myself abandoned on stage, I belt (with no skill or restraint) “All by Myself” by the great Celine Dion. With a final warbling note, I exit.

There was something about the crowd that night, Saturdays have that magic. As I sunk into my space backstage I hear it.

Applause.

My heart swells; they liked it.

In the dark I smile, too distracted to notice the backstage manager comically trying shove me in my corner of shame so that the next scene can go on.

 

 

 

Gif: https://tenor.com/view/circus-nightmare-creepy-horror-show-gif-5268202