So there are only two dressing rooms at this current theatre: an upstairs loft where all the young ladies reside, and the lower dressing room where all the adults are stationed.
…Out of the entire show we have one Man and a “Grocery Boy” (who doubles as our ASM.) Our “Grocery Boy” changes elsewhere due to cue-duties…which leaves our “Joe” as the sole representative of his sex, backstage.
I think anyone would agree, it takes some serious balls to be willing to be that one guy. (No pun intended.)
It cannot possibly be fun for him…and is prob’ly more often than not, a hugely terrifying position to be in. Because, God knows, we don’t make it easy. A gaggle of women, routinely stripping and re-dressing, is NOT as hot as some people might like to think it is.
…First of all: this is a “period” show. That means nylons and “foundation garments.” And as Marty put it yesterday, “If men ever saw what it REALLY looks like to put all this shit on, they would never look at women’s lingerie the same way again.”
…And she’s right.
There is absolutely nothing at all seductive about the way a REAL person pulls and wiggles on a pair of nylons, carefully yanking at all the bits at the ankles, and bowing the legs in a barrel-squat to keep the crotch from sagging half way down your fucking knees.
…Add to that the reinforcement of foundation garments with cinches built in a variety of locations, none of which seem to do much of anything other than squeeze all your excess fat into rolls halfway up your back, and all but cut off the circulation in your lower thighs.
…Then the bras…in any number of fashions, but all having to do with the fact of what it does to the boob-cupping and cleavage specifically…which you are then required to reach in and adjust accordingly.
Next, there’s the slips and dresses and sweaters and coats…for days and days and days…all of which are constantly being hiked up or pulled down in order to try and retrieve the SUPER-WEDGE of underwear caught under your 5 layers of clothing, or cram your muffin-top fat rolls back into the foundation garment, or take it all off and start all over again…because you forgot to fucking go pee first.
Every day in the dressing room is a major production number. And you should know right now that none of it is “pretty.”
…And this is, by no means, ALL that our “Joe” must face on a day-to-day basis.
No, that would be too easy.
…There is also a large selection of women’s topics that get aired as freely as our Vodka-sprayed costume pieces. And being of “theatre,” we have zero compunction about how totally inappropriate or uncomfortable the topics might get for the man over in the corner.
It has always been a well documented fact that women’s dressing room conversations could make the burliest man of all men blush with our total and complete lack of subtlety and taste…which is certainly not ABOUT to change just because a single penis has entered the room.
The case-in-point being, for instance, a small sampling of our current production’s conversational topics:
1. To douche or not to douche…that is the question:
Lady 1: …And then I said, “No, you aren’t supposed to douche. Not ever. They told all of us that specifically. They don’t even sell it in drugstores anymore.”
Lady 2: Not even a vinegar?
Lady 3: Nope. Cuz it kills all the “good” stuff with all the bad.
Lady 4: But that is a very “generational” thing. It’s new. Back when I was younger, we douched all the time.
Lady 5: …Yeah, I remember my Mom had this weird kinda one in the shower. With this hose-thing?
Lady 4: –Sorta like an enema. But different?
Lady 5: Yeah…
2. The Pee Discussion:
Lady 1: …So I said to my husband, “Now that you’ve delivered both the boys, is it okay if I pee in front of you when you’re using the bathroom. I mean, you’ve seen all there is to see by now, right?”
Lady 2: I’d like to think, if they’ve seen you up and shit across the room while birthing a human, a little pee while they’re shaving wouldn’t be that big of a deal.
Lady 1: Oh. I didn’t shit during my labors.
Lady 3: …I did…
3. The truth about shaving:
Lady 1: (While scratching at the panty line region) Sonofabitch. I shaved today and now with the nylons and all…it just itches like hell. Shoulda just left well enough alone!
Lady 2: I never shave in winter.
Lady 3: I have to. Or I’d have sideburns down to my knees by mid-December.
Lady 4: I just got it lasered, so never have to deal with it.
Lady 3: God. That’d be nice. Never accidentally knick yourself again. That’s only just the worst. And then, when you pee…you just wanna scream and punch somebody.
4. When bad sex happens to good people:
Lady 1: Two. Two pumps. Two.
Lady 2: He only got two thrusts in?
Lady 1: Two. And it sucked because we like broke a table while making out before hand, so I thought it would be awesome!
Lady 3: How totally anticlimatic. In a number of ways…
Lady 1: …But the worst part is it took longer for me and my gay BFF to shave my legs in prep.
Lady 2: Your gay BFF actually helped shave your legs for sex?
Lady 1: Yep. He took a leg. I took a leg. And then after the crap-sex, I came out and he was all, ” Wait. What? You can’t be done already?!” And when I nodded and said, “Two thrusts,” he said, “Oh, honey…” and got up to make me a drink…
5. PMS warning signs:
Lady 1: I’ve never been surprised by a period in my entire life. I have about a week-and-a-half of phantom warnings that go off regularly, as reminders.
Lady 2: Yep. Me too. (While poking boobs.) Like, “Oh, my boobs are all tender. Must be m’period next week.”
Lady 3: –Or they get like double the size and become porn-boobs–
Lady 5: …I love porn-boob time…
Lady 4: Hot flashes.
Lady 3: –The worst!
Lady 2: (While still poking boobs.) …Wait. My boobs ARE all tender. Is it my period next week? Wait your period was first of our cycles, when are you due?
Lady 5: Next week.
Lady 2: Are you relocating my schedule?
Lady 5: I dunno. I did, hers.
Lady 4: Yep.
Lady 3: Are we ALL gonna be on our periods for closing?
(A cough comes from the corner. It is our “Joe.” We burst out laughing. He turns red, looking really busy, while pulling on his sock.)
…This only scratches the surface, really…but I feel it gives a good representation of what that poor bastard has been having to live with for the past month. And yet, he can still (somehow) manage to have enough respect for us, that he can look us in the eye onstage…every performance…and do and say the things of love and support that he needs to. No matter what kind of sicko-perverted-vaginal-diseased topic of conversation we’ve decided to abuse him with in the dressing room that night.
…And THAT, ladies and gentleman, takes a MAN.
Cheers, Joe. We love yuh.
…In our own little freak-creep ways.
~D