Before I start journaling my experience as what is deemed a "plain Jane," I would like to admit something. I know that I am beautiful, and I know that my flaws are only flaws because society says so. I know that I have health flaws and I know that you may be worried about my state of mind, but I'm only really sharing this because there aren't enough articles out there from the "ugly" girl's perspective. ***
I walk into a comedy club and I'm nervous as hell, I've never done stand up for a big-ish crowd before. It must have been silly of me to think so, but I thought the hosts at the comedy club would have been better at showing me what to do upon my arrival. One of the girls who was bored and standing by the door decided to show me where the green room was. After walking through the kitchen and the haunted halls of the backstage area, I was a little nervous to be left alone in the green room, which was actually green by the way. We speak a little here and there until she gets bored again and leaves me completely alone. I look at the monitor, which shows the stand up currently performing on stage. I hear my heart beat louder and faster. I start to play with my phone and turn to social media for distraction, maybe even a little attention. I snapchat that I am frightnened. Why am I here trying to be funny?!
Right then a not-so-average girl walks in and joins me in the waiting room. She's real pretty, but young so she's still got time to figure out how to put herself together "properly." Let's call her Sally because I forgot her real name. Sally sits across from me and we briefly do a whole intro and covered the "where-are-you-from" questions. The third comic walks in, James. He's kind of awkward, but his eyes light up when he starts talking to Sally. He sees me and he looks almost frightened with an expression that says "oh no." I don't know why but men look at me like that all the time. Are they scared? Am I horrifying to look at? Or do they feel obligated to talk to the sad looking girl???
Then after little to no talking the MC, Sharon, walks in. She takes a gander at the room and cracks a couple jokes before sitting down. Just to paint the picture a little more, I'm sitting on a large couch, Sally is sitting on a smaller couch across the way and James is sitting in the corner all alone. Sharon decides to wobble over next to Sally instead of sitting next to me. She may have a drinking problem. Or well, she could be just drunk but I mean she's drinking on a Tuesday night, MC'ng a show at a comedy club in Burbank, little money, doing stand up etc. etc. HENCE maybe a drinking problem. I sort of like her though, she's got spunk and she knows what it's like to suffer.
Anyway back on track. The headliner of the night decide to grace us with his presence. I'm going to call him Dick. Dick walks in looking fresh and clean and proper. But he was also a straight up douche bag. I mean he's got a right to be right? He's HEADLINING a show, he's big fucking deal. He continues to sit next to Sally ask her the who, what, where, when, why questions and completely ignore everyone else. Sally manages to bring me up and talk about how this is my first time doing stand up, but all he did was look me up and down, nodded and moved on. I can't help but feel a little hurt at this point because there are four people in this tiny room and not one person wanted to sit next to me. I felt fat and ugly, and for certain I know that I am indeed fat. I felt even more fat because a) no one felt like they could fit and sit next to me (which wasn't true I know) b) I'm probably too ugly to sit next to.
Finally the last comic, Tim, comes in and introduces himself. He looked so disappointed because he had no choice but to sit next to me! I felt kinda bad too because no one wanted to do it in that room, but he had to. I mean sure this experience adds character and what not but I felt pretty empty at that point. Sure I was able to live tweet my sad experience to my 120 followers but even that proves I'm kinda 'sad.' As the show started people seemed to care less and continued to talk. It felt like I was the only one who actually cared this was going on. I had to leave the room, ask the servers in the kitchen about where to go, and finally went out and performed.
I think the most ironic thing about this experience was that I had a bit in my routine about me being the invisible girl. I didn't expect to experience it right before going on stage.
Until next time,
I write, you read, we friends.