What can I say? I'm a curious person... How could I not be intrigued and want to know more when I found out that Wenatchee has a burlesque troupe?! I didn't go looking for risque, sexy, dancing ladies with a healthy sense of humor, no, I posted a question on Facebook. One of the people who responded gave accolades to a popular porn site. Since I am no fan of the industry, I gave him a piece of my mind. Then another person spoke up in defense of the site. This time, though I was still not at all a proponent of pornography, the way I answered was different. Skylar Hansford framed her response respectfully, from an informed and intelligent platform. She was worthy of debate. She had experience in the sex industry and I knew she would provide fabulous insight for my current non-fiction project, Sex and Jesus. Instead of starting a fight or arguing I asked if we could meet and talk. And did we ever talk! I wish there had been more hours and more time to hear her story let alone the history of the Radar Dames, Wenatchee’s own burlesque troupe.

She was instantly intriguing to me, this young woman with bright vibrant eyes and hair divided right down the middle in two starkly contrasting colors. She carried herself with an air of confidence. She was proud of her femininity and sexuality and I respected her for it, not in spite of it, and yet, not solely because of it. Skylar Hansford embraces sexual expression as part of her whole self, and I will tell you this ladies and gentlemen, it is sexy!!!

I would consider myself a modest person by choice but, if I'm truly honest, also because of fear. I want my husband to think I’m sexy, and to get turned on at the sight of me. I want him to desire me and be the person who enjoys my body most but that doesn’t mean I want to deny my sexuality the rest of the time. I am a sexual being, not to mention the fact that I’ve spent the last several years living a fit life. I want to be appreciated for being feminine, fit and sensual as much as for being compassionate and skilled at writing. But, I don’t want to be violated because someone else thinks I’m sexy or was “asking for it.” I've been in situations wearing risque clothing where I was mistreated. When you’re a woman and you “know” you’re wearing one of “those” outfits and something bad happens, even if no one says it out loud; the question is… Was it something that I wore? I told myself, and society told me that I gave the guy the wrong impression because I was dressed inappropriately. I should have expected it to happen. And, so, since then, again both by choice and because of fear I’ve chosen to dress toward the modest side of life.

There is one more fear that ought not go unmentioned. I spoke about my fear of man, now I need to speak of the fear of woman. We feminines are interesting beings. I think we all want to feel pretty, dare I say attractive, but if we see a woman who has crossed the line from attractive to risque… many of us judge. She’s one of “those” women or is trying to get “that” kind of attention. I will say this is largely situational and cultural but it’s definitely a thing. I will contend that it is a thing because we are sexual beings and it pricks at that part of our humanity that’s been conditioned to be repressed; and those women who dare to express or expose themselves challenge our own sexual perceptions. As much as I do not want to be in an unsafe situation with a man because of my attire; I also do not want to lose respect in the eyes of my female peers because because of it.

So I am modest, by choice and by fear.

But I digress, I was at a table listening to a beautiful young woman speak. She was proud of herself, proud of her body, and proud of the fact that she is able to express her sexuality. Despite the fact that she will wear pasties in public, Skylar demands that she should be respected no matter what she wears. No matter what?! She was sure of it and I was the one challenged to re-frame my thinking. Was it really OK to embrace my sexuality that boldly? Could I acknowledge it as part of who I was and expect, or demand, no repercussions from men or women for how I dressed? Can that actually be a thing? What would the world be like if it was? Obviously there’s a time and a place for the more sultry expressions of sexuality and this is where the conversation turned to burlesque.

Skylar, a former exotic dancer, former dominatrix, woman with a sexual assault story of her own that helped form her opinion about sexual expression, heard about the Radar Station. She accepted a bold invitation to stand semi-exposed for an event at the funky, modern museum of controversial art and pop-culture. The new mother was still breastfeeding and says she was not necessarily an image of super sexuality, but feminine reality. Flesh, skin, breasts and beauty. She embraced the philosophy of the founder of the Radar Station, Ron Evans, and in partnership with him started to dream about a burlesque performance. What would it look like? How would the event turn out? They asked the questions and Skylar took the leap, became Moxie Rose, and the Radar Dames were born.

Originally a troupe of four women who, like Skylar, each have their own stage names: Moxie Rose, TNT, Kitty Katastrophe and Gypsy Moon were the first of what is now a troupe of ten performers. Burlesque, from the Italian word mockery, was originally meant to be a performance that parodies some of societies more serious situations in an often comedic and provocative way. The image that comes to my mind is of a bold, fishnet clad, jovial woman, strutting and teasing a rowdy crowd as she executes her performance. Though thick with feminine strength and mystique Skylar clarifies that the burlesque art form embraces all genders, ages and body-types. It is about feeling confident and proud in your skin and making a statement while embracing sexuality not repressing it.

Her goal now is to bring burlesque to the men and women of Wenatchee. To introduce and invite onlookers, and others who are interested, to participate in a class that will run six to eight weeks and end in a performance in front of family and friends… maybe more. The question is whether Wenatchee is ready for burlesque. Skylar made a request on Facebook for people to attend an “Intro to Burlesque” video session in preparation for the newly envisioned classes. I said “Yes!” as did a number of my bold and brave lady friends. We showed up at the Radar Station, listened to Skylar share the history and intention of burlesque and strutted our stuff, flung feather boas, swished and shimmied in removable skirts. And we laughed!

We were silly and carefree, like girls playing dress up, only we weren’t girls, we were women. We dressed up to flirt and seduce and laugh at ourselves and with each other. It felt amazing to be in a safe place, to dress (or undress) on purpose to be sexy. I was not judged by my lady friends, we were sultry and sexy and risque together! We got tips from Skylar and the other burlesque performers on how to move more provocatively; deliberately tempting, teasing and seducing an imaginary audience with our motions. It was liberating to move my body in time with music in alluring and explicit ways. I am a sexual being and the freedom to express it safely was empowering.

Of course all our parts stayed covered and our novice techniques left much room for improvement but I think we all walked away from the lesson standing a little taller and feeling sexier. It was more the idea of actually doing it that was exciting than the execution. Could I really perform like this in front of others, for fun and for freedom? How much skin would I show? How damaged would my reputation be in certain circles? These thoughts swirl around in my mind like the skirt did around my waist. I think I’d quite like to make up a light-hearted, sexually expressive burlesque performance of my own. I’ve imagined what my stage name might be. But... do I dare?! Definitely for my own (and my husband’s) sensual pleasure I would learn more about this art form. Maybe, just maybe, in a private setting, amongst my other brave friends who understand the intrigue I could dare to bare some skin I normally keep under clothing. I wonder and imagine and I eagerly await more information on when and what the structure of the Radar Dames burlesque classes will be and maybe, just maybe, this modest writer-lady will sign-up!

My first drink was either a fuzzy navel or Black Velvet and Coke. Say what you will about the Canadian whiskey, it did the trick and got me wasted. I was barely a teen. I graduated on to harder things that occupied most of my time and attention for the rest of my teen years… Then I met Jesus. Say what you will about the Middle Eastern Savior, He did the trick, got me saved and washed me clean!

My life was new, I was born again, and I really took that to heart! I embraced being clean, and church and the word of God and life without drugs. I didn’t drink for about a year after that divine deliverance from drugs, but then added alcohol back. There was no out-of-control binge; like all of the little foxes in life, it crept in a little at a time. Mike’s hard lemonades with family barbecues. Raspberry Smirnoff Ice while camping in the summer. When it was cold I loved hot cocoa and peppermint schnapps. And I lived there for years. I don’t think it was an issue. I could ask my kids, but I’d be scared of their answer and I could ask my ex, but he wouldn’t answer anyway.

Then wine. It tasted disgusting, but it was a whole lot cheaper and “healthier” than those sugar laden Smirnoff’s so… I embraced the bottle, for my heart’s sake when I started to focus on my health and fitness in 2008 after my grandpa died. Concerned, because of my addictive nature and past I did fervent research (all online of course) to find out what was an ‘acceptable’ amount to drink and for years made sure I didn’t exceed the acceptable limit… most of the time. But somewhere along the way the rules disappeared. It was a bottle every two nights and then she who budgeted and shopped fastidiously would magically need something at the store every other day and a full bottle of Merlot would fall into the basket too.

I can’t remember when, in the course of life, I had the talk with my ex, but I do distinctly remember where. We were walking west toward the street in front of an elementary school near our house and I told him I was concerned I may be drinking too much alcohol. I cannot remember anything more about the walk or the conversation. I remember when we moved from Snohomish County to wine country how surprised I was that so much of the culture here includes a drink with everything… well maybe not all Bible studies, but some of them for sure. I loosened up, maybe I was just being too hard on myself.

Then I got stupid drunk the spring break of 2012. My adopted daughter, Matea, was lost to me and my best dog ever was dead and I was fiery mad at God. I got drunk and I ran a six mile training run, mostly in the dark and somehow ended up swinging on an outdoor swing made by strong hands I don’t know anymore. He came to me, in his silent way, and tried to offer comfort. I sent him away with horrible, hurtful words, I did but didn’t mean. He left and I stumbled my way to my dog’s grave in the back yard and cried, and screamed to God, while Jeremy Riddle’s “Sweetly Broken” flooded into my ears on repeat.

I wanted my daughter back! God knew it and I knew God knew it but up to that point, I plead to God with tempered restraint. Not that night, HOW DARE YOU TAKE HER!!! WHY DID YOU EVEN BRING HER TO ME IF SHE WAS GOING TO LEAVE?! WHAT KIND OF A GOD ARE YOU? CRUEL, THAT’S WHAT YOU ARE! HAVEN’T I SERVED YOU? HAVEN’T I HONORED YOU? GIVE HER BACK!!! Then I threw up, stumbled into the house, puked some more and woke up to a hangover and humiliation that I behaved so in appropriately. I do not know if I apologized to my family, I should have. But less than two months later, that girl, that daughter lost to me, wanted to come home. It was a pivotal point in my relationship with God. Sometimes you gotta get down and dirty. And God’s the God of all Creation, He can handle it.

After that, after she was back, and I was a JAG teacher trying to be a good example to impressionable high-risk students, I analyzed my drinking and confessed to them and to my family that I thought maybe I drank too much. One of the girls in the class was inspired and quit drinking. She would mark her sober days on our white-board, and I didn’t quit drinking.

Then he left… was drinking a part of the silent reasons he left? I’ll never know. Closure would be nice, but then again, would it be? Nah, I’ll leave that stone unturned, and besides, The Leaving turned out pretty good for me anyway and I’ll leave the rest of the confession for another time...

Sam Baird I learned about Sam from my husband. As an avid fisherman, he, like thousands of others followed high-school cohort, Sam Baird, on social media. Sam’s Slammin Salmon Guide Service and “anti-pro blend” scent brand has given him much respect and credit in his fishing niche. I can’t say I ever took notice, more than to marvel at how many Kokanee his guide service consistently pulls out of Lake Chelan… and then it happened, Sam Baird turned my head.

It wasn’t his fishing, although he is a master at his sport, it was his weight loss journey that eventually piqued my interest. “Look at this guy!” my husband kept saying, “He’s losing so much weight. He looks great! Some Keto thing.” I looked at the pictures. Sam Baird was a shrinking man, shaking off excess weight at an astonishing rate. When he posted that he was nearly a hundred pounds down, I knew I had to meet him. We met at Starbucks, but Sam didn’t order. Keto is his secret to weight loss success and there is no room in the plan for the carbs Starbs pedals.

True to an expert guide, Sam made me feel comfortable from the start. Conversation came fast and easy and in no time, I too felt like I’d known Sam since high school. Sam graduated in 1997 as a strong athlete at 225 pounds and the world was at his finger-tips; but injury after injury and the curse of time got the best of him. Twenty years later he was an angry, sick, depressed and morbidly obese man, weighing in at 352 at his highest. Sam admits he knew he was in poor health and avoided doctors, but was eventually diagnosed with fatty liver disease and was on his way to an early grave. He felt defeated but continued to drink a case of Mountain Dew a day, put on his charming, albeit, fake smile and trudge through one miserable, painful day after another.

In the summer of 2018 Sam’s son came out of the closet and also cut sugar out of his diet. The transformation was swift and obvious and his son’s courageous journey motivated Sam to realize change is possible and there could be more to life than the misery he’d become accustomed to. Sam credits his sixteen year old son as that initial inspiration, but the Keto cult is what eventually got his fire burning.

Almost by accident, Sam stumbled across a movie called, “The Magic Pill.” Rage woke him up and fueled a desire to change his life. The Magic Pill, a pro-Keto documentary on the evils of the modern American, high-carb, low-fat diet turned him on to a new way of thinking about health and food. On January first of this year, Sam Baird, with the support and participation of his partner, joined the movement.

Food... Keto is all about food; high-fat, low carb foods to be precise. Sam eats a diet that is 75% fat, 20% protein and only 5% carbs and those are strictly from vegetables; no fruit, no sugar, and most difficult of all for the donut loving sportsman, no breads of any kind. Drinking changed too, water immediately replaced that case of soda and today Sam regularly drinks a gallon of fresh, clean water a day. The only other liquids allowed are his bulletproof coffee in the morning, a mixture of coffee, butter, cream, MCT oil and sugar free syrup, and the occasional, very occasional, drink of clear liquor.

Luckily Sam loves to cook and coming up with delicious Keto recipes is a fun challenge he gladly takes on. He often posts his beautifully plated, tasty meal concoctions on social media. Viewers palates are constantly piqued by his meat and veggie treats like: grilled asparagus with Parmesan, cauliflower rice, Keto-friendly BBQ beef burritos in cheese, folio wraps, marinated chicken breasts, pork rind and Parmesan breaded Kokanee fresh from Lake Chelan, to name just a few.

Elimination of many foods obviously affected Sam’s caloric intake, reducing it from an estimated 3500-4000 calories a day to just around 1000. Some challenge that Sam’s weight loss is more likely attributed to the mass caloric drop than Keto, but he respectfully disagrees. One of the principals behind Keto is that throughout human history we’ve been hunter/gatherers and didn’t consume large amounts of calories each day. A lower daily caloric intake is more like what the body is designed to manage. Sam says 1000 calories are plenty and the high fat diet leaves him satiated. He says he’s not even hungry through the day.

Today, only five months from the beginning of his journey, Sam is down 112 pounds. He feels stronger and more virile than he has since he was in his twenties. His sex drive is back where it used to be, and each inch he loses in his belly seems to grow his manhood the same amount he said with a playful smile and bob of his eyebrows. Then, he spoke in all seriousness and sincerity, he truly feels like he’s living life again; he’s energetic, he’s no longer mad all the time, he’s free from aches and pains he expected to deal with for the rest of his life and is learning to adjust to life in a thin man’s body. Keto is a lifestyle he has embraced and he won’t go back, no matter how great the food temptations get. He much prefers a healthy, thin life to the miserable fat life that used to be his. Sam likes that Keto doesn’t require a strict fitness regime but he still aspires to add in some strength training after getting to his goal weight of 200 pounds. Once achieved, he wants to build back to a muscle-heavy 225.

Sam’s encouragement to all is that if he can do it, anyone can. It’s OK to admit not being ready to make a change yet, it will happen when it’s supposed to. He assured me that even with the substitutions and challenges in finding Keto friendly foods all the time, it’s actually easier than people might expect. He guarantees that the trade-offs are worth the effort and a better life is just on the other side of making the change to live a healthier life.

Jamie and Morgan’s fitness series wrap-up interview was nearly identical to our introduction interview a full year ago. None of us could believe how quickly the time had passed; yet there we were, same restaurant, same two best friends, and me, but not with the same notebook, ready to see where the year had taken them.
The indistinguishable start and finish was fitting for the steady-stride of their year-long journey; young women, fitness minded, nutrition conscious, trying to make and keep a place for healthy bodies in their busy lives where a perfect diet wasn’t going to happen. The ladies did exactly what they set out to do; make health and fitness in their personal lives a regular priority. They went faithfully to see their personal trainer, Andrea Johnson, at The Gym LLC on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. They kept fitness on the list day-in and day-out. They didn’t let their schedules or weather or business keep them from getting to the gym. They met their goals, to strengthen and maintain and Morgan personally, to choose, and wear, a pair of shorts last summer, something she hadn’t done since high school!
Each woman wanted to strengthen and tone and both, upon consideration, were proud of their improved abilities. Activities, movements and lifts that used to be a challenge, weren’t so difficult. Reflecting on how their bodies had changed opened their minds to acknowledge and appreciate their increased abilities. It happened in a year, but slowly, a little at a time, over months; a slow, positive progression in the direction of being stronger than they were when they started. Neither was particularly obsessed by numbers or percentages or body fat/muscle mass comparisons, but in its own way, their year’s health and fitness trek was successful.

Over the year the best friends vacationed together, worked together and sweat together but realized there were some things that, no matter how close they were, just weren’t the same for their individual bodies. One of the routines Jamie and Morgan tried included more weight intensive workouts and though Jamie’s body didn’t respond at all, this is when Morgan reports noticing the most dramatic changes for herself. They were both thankful for a personal trainer who worked with them individually to provide exercises that worked best for their bodies and preferences.

The ladies admitted, as they did in the beginning, that diet and nutrition was their Achilles heel. They have men in their lives who enjoy “regular” food; a restrictive diet wouldn’t be ideal for their relationships. They also have lives full of quick trips here and there, and Morgan has to manage children’s sports events and sometimes fast food happens. Instead of beating themselves up over it, they have accepted it for what it is and made concessions were they can. At work they like to partner together to make healthy, nutritious low-calorie lunches and good snack choices so the evenings are open to a more relaxed menu that accommodates their lifestyles better. In the coming year, and beyond, they want to focus on meal prep in hopes that it can help with their diets.

There was one big difference between that first meeting and the last. Each lady’s personal body image score, on a scale of 1-10 increased. Jamie originally a six, “maybe” seven, rated herself a confident seven and Morgan, whose new perspective and positive outlook on fitness and workouts got not only her brother, but also her dad into Andrea’s gym, rated herself a four when we first met. At our wrap-up interview, with only a slight pause, she decided to go with a five, because, though she’s got a lot of room for improvement, she identifies how much better she did this year than years past.

Together the dynamic duo will continue to live fit and make their health a priority and I’ve no doubt, encourage and influence many more friends and family to stop in and see their personal trainer.

I don't know why this meme-y thing gets me every time I read it, but it does! It has clearly inspired me to write, so write I shall! I wish to understand the reasoning behind those who like this, can we talk about it...? Please, don’t read any further until you identify your own opinion about the meme. And if you’d be so bold as to share, please, share your opinion because I truly do want to understand.
Why do some ladies love this sentiment so much?

Are there any ladies that do not like this sentiment?

What do men think of it?

As for me, and here’s where it gets cathartic, but hey, I can go to my next counseling appointment and say I’m working through stuff, so there’s that... I got left in 2015 after 15 years with a good enough guy. It was one of the worst things that ever happened to me... Devastated me and wrecked me to my core. I've got a great man now, but that pain broke me and I will never be the same. Now my new, great man lives with someone who, in a lot of ways, is a shell of who I once was before I was left.

I don't get where this sentiment is coming from. What is the beauty in him leaving? And when would it be good to leave? After the first date, or before the first date if she doesn’t take his breath away, after the first month, sure, maybe, but after a year, five or ten years of marriage? When is The Leaving good or a favor? (Of course I’m referring to “safe” relationships, I’m not talking about staying with a cheater, abuser or other kind of deal breaker) When should he leave? And does the way she looks in the morning really warrant a leaving?

After 15 years together, having a good enough life, the pain of that leaving is horrible and senseless in my opinion. Did I survive? Yes. Did I find love? Yes! And honestly an amazing love like I'd never have known if 'he' didn't leave. He did do me a favor when he left because there’s never been a man to love me and get me like the chicken farmer does… But, if I'm honest, I’m a short fuse and a fearful partner. I’m ready to run at a moments notice because I'm paranoid and petrified it can all end at his whim, if I don't fascinate him and look beautiful in the morning, each and every morning. I’d rather not be left again, so I stand perched to leave so that I can be the one to decide. I tell myself I don’t need him, repeatedly, and I do this so it won’t hurt so bad if he leaves too, because I am terrified that he will.

In some ways I'm the perfect picture of this sentiment, I did absolutely find a better after 'he' left. He did do me a favor, but is it really better if the damage is beyond repair? … is it better if, all of a sudden, Jeremy too takes this sentiment to heart when I am not extraordinary and yet another man leaves me because my love for the things he does not love bores him?

I think there's beauty in commitment, in staying, in shared history, in life and years and the boring, old usual things that aren't always extraordinary, just simple. Plain. Day in, day out. I want life together with my person, who sometimes doesn't impress or I don’t impress him, secure in the knowledge that we will always, always, always be there for each other. I'll take he who stays, who doesn't always expect me to be the air he breathes. I’ll be his partner for life trying desperately to be everything at all times including ready to leave before I’m left. And sadly he has to deal with a mess because someone else left me. And when does it go away, this primal fear inside me stirred up by this meme? When will I believe he will stay when someone else did not? Not after a year... maybe two? Sixteen? When?

And like Forrest said, that’s all I’ve got to say about that.