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Wait, what’s your real job?

July 4, 2018


More often than not, I get looks of confusion when I say that I’m a dancer. I’ve come to realise there is no word to describe my career that will ever get me a look of understanding. Performer, showgirl, artist, ummmmm yeah I’m a dancer. No, not the exotic kind (internal eye roll). I mean yeah, I wear false eyelashes, fishnet stockings and find sequins and feathers in places one normally does not (bathroom floor, inside my sneakers, up my nose, in my underwear, I CAN’T ESCAPE). Discomfort aside, the costumes are usually pretty bloody amazing once you actually manage to get everything on and in the right place. Sure, some costumes are more “exotic” than others and yes I’m all up for showing some flesh and feeling sexy AF. I’m yet to meet a woman who doesn’t love the feeling!! However, I’m actually dancing my arse off and putting to work a lifetime of training to get me on this holy grail of a stage that we (dancers) have all nearly destroyed ourselves for.  

Oh here we go again. The look of bewilderment. I don’t blame you. I don’t even know why. I just really friggin love it I guess. 

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