What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

The Bridal Bailout May 4, 2015

I’m back! Sorry for the missed post on Saturday. Chris and I just got back to Alaska, where we’ll be working again for the summer. It was a whirlwind of a few days, and I didn’t have the chance to post this. But I now present to you: What Should Have Been Saturday’s Post.

We just closed a production of Funny Girl. As I was not in fact playing the Funny Girl, Ms. Fanny Brice, I spent my show running around changing costumes, and every once in a while I danced a few steps.

One of the numbers that I was in was “Beautiful Bride.” I tip walked in a huge costume and looked pretty. It was great.

photo 1

But those hip baskets were pretty heavy, and the giant headpiece was a beast as well. But since it was just walking, it wasn’t too bad to balance the extra thirty pounds of weight I had just added to my body.

A few days ago, I was doing the bride number, and everything seemed fine. Until I went up onto the tiny little cake platform. It was two steps high, and the surface I had to stand on was barely large enough to fit both my feet. Well, I was “dancing” on my little platform, and suddenly one of my feet had lost the ground. Normally, I would have just put my lost left foot back onto the platform and continued on with life. But that extra thirty pounds of weight was just too much for me. I began to teeter sideways! (more…)


Lamé Lament – Rated PG April 13, 2013

Filed under: Hi-Ho the Glamorous Life — meganorussell @ 10:00 am
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The summer after my freshman year of college, I worked at a small summer stock theatre. There are many stories form that summer, but this is the tragic tale of the gold lamé.

The first show we did that summer was A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. In the show one of the characters visits a brothel, and each of the courtesans does a little dance for him. I was the courtesan Panacea, clad in a gold lamé bra, genie pants, and a grape-covered headdress. As part of my dance section I would pull grapes from between my breasts and feed them to the lead. In order for the grapes to be cool and refreshing for him, seconds before I ran on stage, our male wardrobe mistress would shove frozen grapes into my cleavage. For the comfort of the lead I danced with ice cold boobs every night. (more…)