So last night I went to the Naked Comedy Showcase at Improv Boston. It was…exactly what it sounds like: a bunch of naked people doing stand-up comedy, improv, spoken word, etc. I had been talking about going to the showcase for awhile, but ended up going last night both because the founder, Andy Ofiesh, performed at Boiling Point Burlesque on Saturday night (more about that later) and he was pretty damn funny, and also because Honey Suckle Duvet, a burlesque dancer with the best stage name ever, was performing there for the very first time. So after trivia night at a bar in Cambridge, which was lovely, I proceeded to the comedy show with two friends.
And it was good. I had fun (yes, despite the very high penis:vagina ratio). Honey Suckle was amazing, as always. There was a particularly humorous bit about the difference between tapenade and chutney. There were funny routines and…less funny ones. And I thought about it the whole way home. I kept chuckling at different funny things that had happened, kind of laugh-groaning at some of the less funny parts, and thinking about how it took some serious (pardon the expression) balls to do something like that. Forget about the nudity thing, and these people are still getting up on stage in front of a bunch of strangers (and maybe some particularly supportive friends) and performing. That, alone, is pretty fucking scary. And then doing it naked? Terrifying.
Then I started thinking about how it’s kind of weird that I feel that way. Because I love burlesque! I enjoy taking my clothes off onstage, in front of a lot of people! But there’s a huge psychological line between bra/bootyshorts and completely naked. There’s even a huge line between pasties/thong and completely naked, and I’m not even ok with pasties yet! Why is that? Why is there such a big mental difference, even though it’s really only a few square inches of actual flesh (depending on your choices of pasties and underwear, I guess)?
I’m not really sure. I guess right now, mostly unclothed is good enough for me. Considering that two or three years ago I wouldn’t wear tank tops in the summer, or skirts, or shirts that showed anything past my collarbone, or shorts shorter than my knees, because I hated my body so much, the fact that I got up onstage in front of a bunch of people on Saturday night and danced half naked is a pretty big accomplishment. The fact that I even considered wearing pasties? Mind-blowing.
So thumbs up to those who participated in the Naked Comedy Showcase last night…maybe in a year or two I’ll be up there with you.
