It has been nearly a month since I’ve written anything. How the heck did that happen?
Life in Bellydance Land has been… interesting. I am again on a major costume kick, mostly prompted by my realization that I Have Nothing To Wear. The downside of this realization is that I am no longer really content with a mix-and-match basic wardrobe, and now I want New! Matchy! Blingy! Expensive! Costumes!
I blame it all on Bhuz.com and the Swap Meet. Darn those dancers and their $600 pretties! (No, I will not pay that much for a costume. I don’t dance in venues to justify it, I’m too pudgy and jiggly to do justice to something that fancy, and I don’t have multiples of $600 to hang in my closet.)
To that end, I’ve been snapping up used costumes when the prices are right and the descriptions intrigue me. Unfortunately, everything I’ve bought so far has either not fit, is unflattering on my body type, or just has the wrong vibe. Who knew that used costumes had vibes? So far I am at least recouping my costs on these, having sold one to a troupe sister who looks 100 times more beautiful in it than I ever could, and passing the other along to another Bhuzzer who isn’t quite as busty as am I. I suppose that’s good costume karma, but it leaves me, again, with nothing to wear.
The incident I alluded to in my last post is key to this whole thing. I was running slightly late for a luncheon show in my neck of the woods, and I had put on my one-and-only bedlah for the occasion. It was rainy, and I had on a light jacket as I was hurrying my way out of the house. I bent down to pick up the newspaper from the driveway when I felt a slight *pop* from the area of my ribcage. As I stood up, I noticed that things felt a little bit more free and easy, so to speak, and the “Oh, shit!” look dawned on my face.
Already running late, I dashed back into the house and tore off my coat to discover that the hooks securing my bra had failed spectacularly. Without another bedlah to change into, I completed a marathon scramble for another, less formal costume. 5 minutes later I was in a tribal-esque getup and out the door. I am counting my lucky stars that my wardrobe malfunction occurred in my driveway, and not during the ladies’ benefit luncheon where I’m quite sure my attributes would not be appreciated.
That particular show went off smoothly, but the metal coin belt I wore for the first time that show lost a few connecting pieces, and is now pretty much unusable. The bra was repaired once, and failed again during the trying-on. And now I’m in dire need of new costume pieces.
I am in the process of making a new bedlah for myself from an old 80’s sequined gown, but that will take time and effort and I don’t expect it to be ready before August. I’m having little luck in the Swap Meet (apparently dancers with huge bajongas don’t have huge hips to match, like I do) and I’m just cranky and don’t want to wait 12 weeks for a custom costume. I do have my eyes on one that will theoretically be ready in about a month, but I’m holding off on that until next week.
Oh, and the elastic waistbands of all my skirts are disintegrating. It’s fun to be me.
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