This is true.
Shelley stood in the dressing room at Victoria's Secret and mulled her selections. Some were strictly utilitarian – matching bras and panties, her absolute requirement, can't wear sets that don't match – some were specific purchases for specific dresses – this dress needs a sheer bra in nude, that sweater needs a molded cup – and some were, well…play clothes for grown-ups. As usual when she thought about this, Shelley giggled.
In the play clothes category were the following items: a white satin "bride's corset," that she thought with sweet satisfaction "ought to make Dean's eyes pop" if she ever mustered the courage to wear it.
And therein lay the quandary. Dressing up in this stuff would be fun, but she was far too shy to wear these things for real. She remembered her intense, intense, embarrassment when she appeared in a college play and she had to wear an old fashioned white full slip for the entire production. When she auditioned for the role, a boozy gal who used her body to get what she wanted, no mention was made of wardrobe. They wanted her to keep her hair long, bleach it blonde, and loved that it was long enough to reach her waist. She agreed to bleach it only because she thought it might get her the part. And it did. But she hadn't counted on the wardrobe.
The director, an acquaintance, not a friend, was planning to be a real director, and he approached every aspect of the production with an exacting eye to detail. And he rode Shelley mercilessly during their line readings, and later, during rehearsals. He seemed to get off on pushing her and pushing her. This three-character one act play would be one of trilogy he produced the same night at the local community theater. Some actors were appearing in all three, but Shelley in only one, the last one, and she was the featured performer around whom the action of the play revolved. The other two characters were the men in her character's life who were fighting for her. Shelley thought it was a riot that the two actors playing her suitors were closeted gay guys...but she had to admit it made playing her kissing scenes easier.
But the wardrobe. God, what was she going to do? She was trying to earn her place at the university, trying to find a group to fit in with, and she had already made friends with several of the girls involved. As the rookie, she got an inkling as to the initiation process in an acting class. They were miming. The first person had to "build" something silently, using only his or her body and facial expressions. The next person had to "use" whatever was being built, and then modify it or change completely, to build something for the third person, and so on. It was fun, but it was hard. Shelley's powers of concentration were sorely tested.
As her mime partner, an older theater student with a reputation for being a lady killer, was creating his portrayal, Shelley instantly perceived that he was pretending to be walking inside a house, going upstairs, and opening a door. She felt her cheeks begin to flame, however, as she realized he was "building" a toilet, and she was expected to do something with it. "You fucker" she thought. "I could wimp out and make a sink to brush my teeth," she thought. "Or I can go for it."
