Long Story Short 

The ad for Lola Spitfire's School of Burlesque arrived in my inbox one afternoon in January, and I was immediately intrigued. A lifelong dancer, I'll jump at most any opportunity to shake my hips.

After two nights of burlesque class, I wasn't sure if I'd ever get up on stage and perform in front of anyone but my classmates.

I did, however, notice myself strutting a little taller through my days.

Jazz singer Ruth Wallis' song "Boobs" was running circles through my head. A black feather boa found a home on my work bookshelf. And I became a semi-expert at gluing red, white and silver sequins to fabric just in case.

En route, I learned more about the art and history of strip tease then I ever imagined (see "Risqu business," this week's cover story).

I've also met some amazing women who are pushing personal boundaries, and who challenged a few of my own.

The flu kept me from performing at the first revue (OK, that was part of it), but you never know ... if Lola Spitfire keeps calling, I may yet costume up "Girl Friday Night" and have her take a turn on the Rocket Room stage.


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