The Imaginary Corset On My Brain and Body

I’ve been rehearsing the new second act of my show (which will be added in the beginning of 07’). I play myself twenty years from now. I’m having a tough time imagining how I’ll feel and look in twenty years. What kind of person I’ll be. How will I feel when I look back at my current self? I’ve been pondering the possibility of feeling shame. All of the sexy images…the show posters…Will it haunt me later? Will I feel embarrassed when I attend future PTA meetings or run for political office? Or when my kids google me and discover that my innocent “hooker” role on NYPD Blue “qualified” me for a listing on “Dr. Skin” (a loser pornographic website exploiting working Actresses). Or maybe I’ll be nostalgic? I might wish I could still pull-off the bustier look! Or even better, maybe I’ll be like Madonna and keep reinventing myself, creating my own idea of what it is to be a modern day mother and middle-aged woman. I only hope for inner peace. Whichever way I go.

Growing-up in conservative New England creates a permanent invisible corset on your body and brain. I sometimes wonder if my Hollywood life is an embarrassment to my family? Perhaps they can’t understand how much I’ve  had to evolve inside to be able to expose it on the outside. To stand on stage and feel empowered by my womanhood. An Actress trying to be taken seriously, breasts and all.

There are ten million TV shows being cast and I still don’t have an agent. I couldn’t bring myself around to sign with the baseball-loving agent who wouldn’t come see my work. I’m holding-out for someone better. Raising my standards.

I did audition for a coke commercial this week. In the meantime, my SAG health insurance runs out in January. It’s a problem staying “qualified” for the union insurance. I’ve done 50 shows on stage over the past fourteen months. In “SAG days”, I’d be on plan A by now! So I’m stocking-up on doctor visits. The other day I went to the dentist and had two and a half cavities filled. I’m on a payment plan. They hold my checks for a few months. I avoid a root canal.

My Gynecologist said he wants to come see the show. I won’t tell you where he was when he mentioned the idea. How can people separate the two? It’s the same with my old dentist. I never could understand how he could have dated me. Drilling and excavating the interior depths of my mouth and then kissing me a week later. Some people are really able to compartmentalize.

On the “list” for next week’s show: NBC casting!

Yipeeee! Ready for a series. Hope I squeeze it in with my Yiddish club booking in Palm Springs.

Written by Rachel Bailit