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I’m a Vagina!

January 20, 2010

What would MY vagina wear? That’s really not very difficult: red stilettos, sequin pasties, and a crown. Maybe a feather boa if it was feeling frisky.

You might be wondering where I am going with this. Honestly, you may wonder that with many of my blogs. The point is this-I am in the local production of  The Vagina Monologues. I am beyond excited about this as it is something I have always wanted to do…but there’s a catch. I was planning on being funny. And my monologue is…NOT. Someone described it to me as a tear-jerker. Ummm. Hmmm? Okay. Got it. On the one hand, I’m a little jazzed because this is a challenge and something totally new for me. Plus, no? Branching out and trying new things and all that jazz. Hooray for me growing. On the other hand…I’m funny, or so it seems. I tend to be terribly uncomfortable in serious situations, having been known to giggle at funerals and the like BECAUSE I’M THAT UNCOMFORTABLE. I also tend to cry only when I am really, really pissed. And truthfully? Most of the time I laugh. Like spew stuff out my orifices and laugh until I am silent and shaking and red and tears are streaming down my face. I’m super overly easily amused. And I’m okay with that, there are worse things I suppose.

I haven’t done a play in a really long time and usually it involved singing as I am probably less worse at that than other things. (It is really unfortunate to be kind of okay and lots of things and not outstanding at any-it’s probably why I have no legitimate, marketable skills. Falling down and having fantastic taste in shoes are not high demand skill sets.) In fact, the last actual play I did was in 8th grade when I was the Duchess in Alice in Wonderland and I convinced my understudy that she didn’t REALLY want to be my understudy as I didn’t need one. The upshot of this?  I wanted to do both performances instead of splitting it with someone. I wanted both the night performance as well as the one for the other kids-god I was a hateful child. It would seem my uncle, the Episcopal priest, was not all that far off when he would refer to me as “the mean little kid from Alabama”. My mother swears I was delightful-just willful, but I think she has to say that. In high school, I did other things and my main involvement with THE THEATRE was working on lobby displays for the musicals most years. I was also a magician’s assistant-I was sold on that since the costumes were sparkly.

ANYHOO-so here I am vagina monologuing and all that and when I practice in my car-I am excellent. The other carpool moms probably think me talking is a nice change from the show tunes I am normally belting out (WITH the windows rolled up but what can I say? I project. I have literally had microphones ripped out of my hand before and NO ONE will let me near a megaphone.) When I get to rehearsal-not so much. At the first rehearsal I was fairly unsure about it-I even told them: “No, really. I’m not serious. I’m a fall down stairs and have a boob pop out kind of gal”. (Sidenote: I am totally working on a blog about my various wardrobe malfunctions.) The BEST part about this exchange was that it took place during Snow Storm Blizzard of the South 2010 and when I got home, almost on cue, I fell the whole way down my driveway due to ice, AND my boob slid out of my v-neck sweater. Stilettos + ice+ crazily uncoördinated Amy=not exactly the best plan ever.

Have I mentioned the kicker? It’s about childbirth and being in awe and all warm and fuzzy about the whole birthing experience. Hi. I’m Amy. And I had the worst childbirth experience EVAH-barring death. Seriously, my doctor called me at home for like 2 weeks (not counting the WEEK I spent in the hospital) to apologize for how horrific the entire experience was. I was induced-we now know that I am the .5% of people that pitocin actually STOPS their labor. If I were a herd of elephants-I would have birthed 12 or so little baby elephants. (This harkens back to the whole Ifanythingweirdisgoingtohappenithappenstome thing.) After having my water broken-too early as they later discovered and subsequently left me languishing in labor limbo for hours upon hours-it is alleged that I actually grabbed my OB by the throat and “suggested” he remove this baby from my body immediately before I felt the need to remove something from his body. Allegedly, to borrow a term from the Southern Fried Snark gals. And then they drugged me up to the point where I have no recollection of the c-section-or the bloodbath that came along with it according to the ex-hubs, the pulling out of bratchild (who I adore more than anything), seeing her for the first time and so on. I DO remember going into shock, losing too much blood, developing a crazy infection, the nurse that didn’t read my chart to see that I’d had a c-section and therefore thought it okay to literally hurl bratchild at my stomach (have I pointed out that she was a ten pound baby?), and then after I finally made it home? Yeah. Leaking spinal fluid-which is no fun and there are very few people I would wish that upon. (In retrospect I was actually a HUGE fan of the whole c-section thing as people like to tell you the worst stories ever while you are pregnant and I was convinced my vagina was going to rip from my ass to my head and that I would never be able to eat/poop/talk/pee/have sex thru separate holes EVER again. I would just have one giant hole to serve all those purposes which is frankly just gross. And not attractive.) Also, I gained 50 pounds when I was pregnant with that precious child and I am still carrying around baby weight…and she’s 8.  I’m not even cool with other people’s labor. I went to visit a former friend while she was in labor and the second she started having contractions-I sped from the room.

BUT I had worked thru it, I was all this is acting and you can do it and I actually did. Truly. And believe me, no one could ever be as big a critic as I am of myself.  Bratchild said I was amazing-and that child does not lie. Want an honest opinion on your clothing/hair/driving/makeup? Ask my little mini-me. We were all cuddling and then I performed it for her and she was thrilled. When I went to rehearsal? Swoosh. That would be the sound of my acting going down the drain.

I was discussing my monologue with my mom and she actually snorted when I told her it wasn’t funny. In 33 years, I’m pretty positive I have never heard my mother snort. She was all , “But I told lots of people to come and that you’d be funny”. Does she think she needs to un-tell them because I’m not? Possibly. I did tell her she should probably tell dad not to come, I’m pretty sure he’s not cool with women saying cunt, twat, and faking orgasms. Sadly, I have always had crazy supportive parents so I’m pretty sure he’s going to show up anyways.

I am positively, absolutely blown away by some of the other girls’ performances. Truly. One even made me all teary-eyed. Fortunately, as I was about to cry, my always funny hubs texted me this: “How are the vaginas? You can play with my mono log”. I almost peed on myself a little.

To cheer myself up, and get in character (I am amazingly awesome at reasons to buy shoes) I did buy my vagina the most fabulous, red suede, platform heels ever. J pointed out that with my obvious lack of coördination, it may not have been the best idea to purchase the highest/skinniest heels I have ever owned when I am going to walk out on a slick stage in front of lots of people. But they’re so fab…and so worth it. Check back with me on that if I fall during the performance-which you should totally come check out if you are not a stalker (I always feel the need to reinforce that.)

For now, I have my monologue memorized and it’s good. Come rehearsal, ugh-who knows? 

But you can check out my vagina’s new shoes. They are HOT-with an extra “t”.

© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. January 20, 2010 9:00 AM

    I’ll give it to you…. you are pretty damn funny.

    Was there another understudy for the duchess? Because I remember being asked to be the understudy and I immediately said no. I wanted to be Alice! How ridiculously self-involved was I? 🙂

    Good luck with the vaginas and btw LOVE the shoes!

  2. amyblam permalink*
    January 20, 2010 9:29 AM

    Just the one, whose name escapes me though I can picture her face. I can also picture Alice’s face-just not her name.
    I think everyone is a little self-involved at that age. Although, I was clearly ready to go all Showgirls on someone so that I could perform for the elementary chillens as well. 🙂

  3. kelly permalink
    January 21, 2010 9:42 AM

    when’s the show? and where? i need details so i can try to make this one. i’m only three hours away…and who doesn’t need an excuse to come back to huntsville for a visit? :o)

  4. amyblam permalink*
    January 21, 2010 12:57 PM

    The performances are February 4th, 5th, & 6th at 7pm at the Flying Monkey Art Center at Lowe Mill.

  5. betsy permalink
    January 22, 2010 11:55 AM

    i just wet my pants.

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