The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: pop culture

Greetings from the set of #DWTS {!!!}

Well another season of Dancing with the Stars has come to an exciting end. And I have just three things to say about the finale:

1.) Congratulations Melissa and Tony! You totally deserve it. Hard to believe it was Tony’s first win in all these years.

2.) If Val and Kelly are just friends? I totally want more friends.  

3.) Shawn and Derek, that ending to your instant Cha Cha was JAW-DROPPINGLY AWESOME. I actually gasped aloud when I saw it and woke my husband who was snoring on the couch next to me. I just hope that Derek was generous with the Axe Body Spray prior to the show or poor Shawn will be scrubbing his musk out of her nostrils for days.

Seriously… check out this progression:

“Shawn, just stand still and I’m going to run full speed right at you…”

“…then I’ll take a flying leap right at your face…”

“…and all you need to do is catch my junk with your neck, okay?”

“And after I tea-bag you at 60 MPH, just grab my leg like you mean it…”

“…and I’ll bend you over backwards while you’re still clutching my groin with your arms & face. Got it?”

And you wonder why I’m such a fan of the show.

Hand to God, I have never missed a season. And scenes like this are just one of the many reasons why.

Now, grab some popcorn and settle into a comfy chair because I am about to do something crazy.

You know that whole “ask and ye shall receive” thing? Also known as “The Secret,” or the “when you announce your intentions, the universe will rise up to help you achieve them” principle?

Yeah, that.

Well.

Um…

Gosh, this is harder than I thought it would be.

{nervous eye twitch}

I’m just going to come out and say it:

I want to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars.

Okay, okay, settle down. It’s not THAT funny.

Maybe it is. I can’t even touch my toes.

If I ever attempted a move like this:

a split (ouch)

…it would sound like someone pried open the Pharaoh’s Tomb, followed by the sound of bones snapping and sirens blaring.

But I’d do it anyway…because that shit would make for great TV. 

And believe you-me, I watch enough television to know what producers want. In fact, and I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been approached three times in the past two months to appear on Dr. Oz and The Steve Harvey Show (twice).

Sure, it was for shows about things like chronic oversharing, facing your bullies, and holiday card DONT’S, but still, I was asked, m’kay?! And let the record show that I turned them all down because I am waiting for the right opportunity to royally shame myself and my family in front of the biggest audience possible. Dancing with the Stars, you are THE ONE for me.

Sadly, my family is a little slow to warm up to the idea.

When I told my kids about my desire to be on the show they just laughed and laughed. And then my daughter said, “But Mom. The costumes! They’re so…tiny, and you’re so…um…squishy.”

She has a point there. But come on, I’m 42-years-old. I’m a homemaker/professional writer, not a teenaged Olympic Gold Medal Winning Athlete. It’s okay for me to be a little squishy. I figure they’ll just dress me like they dressed Cloris Leachman, or Chaz Bono. No biggie.

Besides, I’m not going to let my children’s fears about my lack of muscle tone or talent squelch my dreams.

I was born to dance and/or make people laugh with/at my dancing, and I’m ready to go for it.

So I’m doing what leadership guru Stephen Covey suggests and I’m using visualization to begin with the end in mind. Hence the title of this post. I’m already imagining that I’ve been selected as a contestant and am blogging from the sidelines of the dance floor during rehearsal.

Ladies, I gotta tell you…Maks’ tush is even better in person.

So what do you say, ABC? To demonstrate my level of commitment to this project I’ve gone ahead and drawn up the beginnings of a contract.

Here is my commitment to ABC and the Executive Producers of DWTS:

I will wax every last hair from my waist down so that the show can remain family-friendly and people won’t wonder if “that mom blogger is giving birth to The Jackson Five” when I do a high low kick.

I herewith consent to allow DWTS to videotape me running errands with no make-up on so as to make the montage of My Journey to Week Two that much more inspiring to “regular” women everywhere.

I vow to have at least one minor injury that I will valiantly overcome for the sake of good TV.

In addition, I guarantee that I will cry at least once.

I will provide Bruno Tonioli with a minimum of two opportunities to use phrases like “saucy minx,” “fleshy flavor,” or “check please.”

And I will donate half of my yet-to-be-negotiated fee to the charity of my choice.

In exchange, DWTS herewith commits to the following:

You promise not to make me wear any costumes that expose my mid drift, butt cheeks, or spider veins. Nor will I ever have to dance next to any of the professional female dancers.

You will provide complementary teeth bleaching, spray tanning, mani/pedis, and physical therapy throughout the course of my run on the show.

You hereby guarantee to fly my family out to watch me at least once for a live taping. In exchange I will permit you to film my son Bucket Head doing the Belly Wave.

You hereby swear to never refer to me as a “mommy blogger.” You may call me a blogger, a mom blogger, a writer, an author, a humorist, and/or a philosopher/entertainer/humanitarian/apprentice plumber.

You will provide an unattractive, background checked nanny/housekeeper to help my husband with my three children while I am part of the show.

You promise to partner me with anyone but Val. He obviously uses sex as a motivator for training, and let’s face it, I’m more motivated by the promise of a trip to the buffet at Golden Corral.

So what do you think? Would you like to see me as a contestant on Dancing with the Stars? If so, please help me spread the word! Maybe they’ll let me bring all of you to a taping of the show! I’m stretching my hamstrings just in case.

put leslie from The Bearded Iris on DWTS

Optimistically yours,
Leslie

How Maroon 5 taught my daughter about rape.

One in three.

That’s the current global statistic about violence against women.

L-R: R. Vahey / D. Hunter / D. Richards - women star golfers at Kernwood Country Club, Salem

Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection.

 

One in three women around the world will be raped, beaten, coerced into sex, or otherwise abused in her lifetime. (2003 UNIFEM report “Not A Minute More: Ending Violence Against Women”)

Next time you are hanging out with two of your girlfriends, you can pretty safely assume that at least one of the three of you has been the victim of violence at some point in her life. You might not know it though, because the shame associated with it is so strong that the majority of us don’t ever discuss it or report it.

But this week In The Powder Room, we’re talking about it. We’re ALL talking about it…all day, every day.

I encourage you to join me and my colleagues as we explore various facets including how to raise our sons to not be rapists, surviving childhood sexual abuse, a man’s perspective, is a woman ever to blame?, what is a “Slut Walk”?, and many more tough issues. We all poured our hearts out this week and I hope you’ll get as much out of our work as we put into it.

I am truly so proud to be a part of this group of phenomenal writers and leaders.

Now join me, won’t you, as I share the story of how I accidentally taught my 9 year old daughter about the issue of rape, with unwelcome help from a couple of pop songs.

not lightly,

-Iris

© 2019 The Bearded Iris

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑