I wake up at some awful hour of the morning. (Sometimes my call time is 6:15 am.) As I arrive at the school, and see another shadow disappearing into a building, I think, "What poor soul is on campus at THIS hour?!" then I chuckle at myself. because I'm here. Blegh.
I do my hair, and put on my makeup and costume.
But it's not quite that easy.
I put on gobs of makeup. corrector, cover-up, foundation, powder, blush, eyeliner, highlight, shadow, mascara... All in an effort to look effortlessly, naturally beautiful.
I tease, spray, mold, and pin my hair into an arrangement of a bounty of cascading curls (attempting to capture my designer's vision).
I put on stockings, then bloomers, then a petticoat, then a huge skirt, then a bustle--the whole thing has my hips carrying an extra 7 pounds all on a very small clasp that is very tight around my waist. then i struggle into a custom-made jacket, where I avoid pulling one single hair out of place. I then velcro, then snap, and then finally lace a ribbon down the front of the bodice to put it all into place.
After all that time and configuring, to create an 1800's New Englander. I feel remarkably... comfortable. I feel like a 19th century ingenue. I feel naturally and effortlessly beautiful. It is quite a remarkable thing: under all of that, I feel very much myself.
Then I get the indescribable pleasure of doing the show. I am a narrator, an old woman, who is a marvelous cook; a mischievous school child; a choir singer with a lisp; and Katrina VanTassel: a sought-after duplicitous peach of a young woman.
I get to sing and dance and just PLAY for most of an hour.
After the show, when I take off my costume, I feel 15 pounds lighter. I wash of my thick makeup, unpin my hair, and feel like myself again. just in a slightly different way.
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