Conversation at Playgroup

I was almost outed at playgroup. A couple weeks back one of the members hosted a Friday night deck party so the moms could get together sans kids and have some fun. Having missed the previous two, I was really excited  to attend this time. It was a small but chatty group. Most of the time I'm so swept up trying to keep eyes on my "Dennis the Menace" during playgroup that I barely make conversation with other moms. I worry about how that comes across--my lack of conversation making--so this deck party was a good opportunity.

The conversation took the usual  bends and twists---kids, husbands, jobs, etc., until, I guess inevitably, the subject of Facebook came up. Now, I have to admit Bunny in everyday life has developed a bit of a Facebook addiction particularly since she got an Iphone. One mom mentioned something I posted regarding pole dancing....my sphincter clenched a little...I'm not gonna lie. I took a deep breath and told them all about my pole dancing, the class I took, that I have a pole at home, muscle groups, competitions and so on. I managed to keep the conversation lighthearted and flowing solely along the lines of me and my pole dancing hobby. That is, until, the same mom mentioned that I also had friends who did burlesque....................gulp.

Now for the sake of clarity--I think it's pretty obvious that I look up to and admire burlesque artists and anyone who supports it and in no way want to give the impression that I would be embarrassed to be personally associated with any artist in any medium----however, I really, really did not want to have THAT conversation at that moment. Not knowing what direction the inquiry would take us all in, I blurted out "I have  friends that do all kinds of things. I have a degree in theater and my friends have done lots of things" and then spilled my wine cooler all over the glass picnic table like a total fucking moron. No one seemed to notice or care so much about that. I quickly changed the subject to my favorite subject---potty training. The night moved on.

I felt really bad about it, though. I still do. A little bit of a Judas almost--dramatic as that sounds (not a Lady Gaga reference--I'm sorry but I don't understand what the fuss is about with that one. I liked her better when she was Madonna). It's not that I want to be one person with one group of people and another person in another group of people. That's not an admirable quality. I'm just not ready. And let's be serious--this is the infancy of this journey. I don't have any street cred. I'm certainly not going to go around lecturing people on my career as an artist.

The unfortunate thing is that I would have liked to have had THAT conversation with that particular mom. She has a career in art and would probably be very receptive. But I just couldn't do it. Not with the other moms. I'm afraid if they judge me negatively than they would also judge my son negatively. That would be a crushing blow. But there are half naked pictures of me on the internet now. So I think at some point it may come up in discussion. I like my half naked pictures on the internet, by the way.

I want to tell my parents. I need to tell my parents. My mom will be fine, she'll just be hurt that I didn't tell her sooner, I think. My dad, that's going to be a hard one. But he lives close so I have to tell him if I plan on doing more locally, which is a goal of mine. I guess since we all live on the internet we're all local in a sense, though.

All I know is that I cannot go backwards, only forward. I'm too happy and have too much invested to let worry stop me. So I'm looking towards the next opportunity--whatever it may be. I wonder how many moms googled "pole dancing" that night when they went home?