What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

Panties Predicament October 3, 2016

I’ve been onstage a few thousand times at least. I’ve made my living for my entire adult life on stage. But there are certain times that having years of muscle memory built up can bite you in the butt.

I just opened Anything Goes this week. It’s a super fun show that I’ve never had the opportunity to do before. I’m an Angel in the show, which in this case means a sultry backup dancer. Rather than design and build the costumes for the show in-house, the company I work for decided to rent the tour/Broadway costumes. And that’s great! They’re beautiful, but they are meant to fit other people.

So while all the costumes are meant to have bloomers (show panties) built into them, there is one costume where the bloomers had to be taken out so I could tunnel into the costume instead of stepping into it. All the other girls get to step into their dresses, but me, with the boobies and the bootie, cannot get into that costume in the customary direction.

We had employee preview last week, and it was all going great. We did a little singing, a little tapping, and then we got to the panty-free costume. It’s a quick change offstage into a super short dress with a tear-away robe. For those of you who know the show, I’m talking about the song “Blow, Gabriel.”

We did the beginning of the number in our long silk robes, and it was all going great… until I realized that my costume felt much more comfortable than it had before. Looser and airier. Because I hadn’t put on my bloomers!!! No bloomers!!!

Normally, I would have danced carefully and waited it out, but there is no way to not show my bootie and lady bits in that costume!

So, being the professional I am, I waited for the girls I was dancing with to change formation then ran for it. Tore back to the dressing room, pulled on my bright red panties, and ran back onstage in time for the tear away robe reveal!

And thank God I did, because the company was taking pictures that night, and the last thing I need are digital photos of my fishnet-covered butt out there in the world.

So what’s the moral of the story? Don’t forget your panties.

And what’s the punch line? The angel forgot her devil panties.



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