For those just tuning in, I humiliated myself at a spur-of-the-moment audition for “The King and I”.
I was cast as a NON-SINGING AMAZON*
I vacillated between seeing reason in the decision and having divaesque temper tantrums and finally, despite being smited with humiliation, I considered my suck-ass audition and the fact that I haven’t done a musical since my son died, and I just sucked it up and decided to stay in the production.
Um. I just think that was the longest, run-on sentence ever written. Go, me!
Last rehearsal, they decided to upgrade me from Amazon guard to one of the Royal Wives. My first thought was that I was just glad that FINALLY, the proper casting happened. I mean, Jeezsh! ME? An AMAZON??! What were they THINKING?!
My next thoughts were about how I was going to blend in with the rest of my sister-wives. Maybe it is coming from a polygamous-rooted heritage, but I am totally down with being a multiple royal wife.
Except for a few things.
I am the biggest person on the stage.Â The other wives all have waists that are about the size of my calf, which makes me feel like a lumbering bovine most of the time. I think I’m even taller than the King. (He must have just wanted to marry me for my awesome and ample “Magical Boobies“). I’m tall, I’m huge. The next tallest girl is 5’4. FOUR INCHES SHORTER than I am.
Being surrounded by them makes me look like…like…like…
Hmmm…Maybe they were not so off their original casting as I thought….
(I love eating crow. It’s so satisfying.)
Besides my hulking size, there are other “Issues” with me feeling out of place with the other wives.
THEY ARE FREAKING YOUNG.
I think that most people that do theater are either very young or are old enough to have kids that can manage mostly on their own. I am by far the oldest wife in the entourage. By like, at least eight years. MOST OF THEM ARE STILL IN FREAKING HIGH SCHOOL.
AND THEY LOOK LIKE THIS:
(You can almost see a sparkle by their teeth and hear a fairy harp playing as you stare at their PORELESS, UNLINED SKIN, can’t you?)
Those that are not in high school are still in their early twenties and it is a gorgeous, PETITE group of early twenties.
This one of my wife-homies. She is the closest in age to me (Which, ya know, makes her EIGHT YEARS YOUNGER) and she’s totally tiny. SHE IS WEARING HEELS in this photo. In my head I call her “Tiny Tim”.
She makes me feel like such a gangly hotard. Sickeningly gorgeous, is she not?
I know, I know. I don’t really help myself overly with the frumpy sweatshirt, glasses, no makeup and fugly hair pulled back into a fuglier ponytail. I probably would have made more of an effort, but this is the first time that I’ve been out of bed in over a week, so I am cutting myself a little slack.
I am getting increasingly worried about my 33-year-old body in the skimpy, flimsy costumes they have planned. The other girls are excited, but they don’t have a three-baby gut and arms that keep flapping in the wind LONG the hand segment is finished waving.
In the end, though, I am glad that I stuck it out and didn’t storm of the cast list like a pouting baby. I was tempted. Oh, how I was tempted. I am actually a little sad about not being an Amazon. I sort of got used to the idea. It would have been amusing to run around stage in a leather skirt and metal bra.
Now as it is, I will run around with my muscletone of headcheese body and tower above my follow polygamous wives and be happy to do so.
Awe. A Warm, Fuzzy, Ending for you .
And God Bless Us, Every One!
*(First off? AMAZON? No female can hear that and not immediately feel wretched. Also? The non-singing part? Hello? It is a bit of an insult given my experience. Even given the wretched audition. I’ve worked with these people before. In big, leading roles n’ stuff. So, it really is, people. You’ll just have to trust me on this on this and not just chalk it up to sensitive feelings and an ego.)