Tuesday, January 22, 2013

L'Ego revisited, pt.1



Today I went for my interview at the Ego Wellness center and it took a lot of work to get ready. I have been watching what I eat, working out constantly and trying to take care of my complexion, even though that is sort of beyond my control. For today I went to the hair salon first thing in the morning and then raced home to change into my tightest, shortest, black dress. It is the first time in over fifteen years that I have worn a full face of foundation and then I painted a "natural" gym appropriate look over that. I wasn't sure if I would have to dance so I brought my workout gear and my music just in case. The good news is that Giacomo, the capo of the teachers, remembered me. He took me to the Ego cafè -- that's right they have a cafè, and we had a conversation. It seems that my fate rests in the hands of the clients. If they like me I can have limitless opportunities and up to thirty hours of work a week; and, if they don't, I can find my own way out. He doesn't care about much else. I may have insinuated that I can also teach burlesque and hip hop for children; that is burlesque for adult women, and hip hop for children, neither of which I have actually ever done. I may have also worn stockings with the seams down the back, but you will never know because they ripped as soon as I got home and unzipped my boots.




Tomorrow I will have to wear a similar (that is the exact same) outfit, but with my spare pair of stockings and some higher heels because it was clear that I miscalculated on the health versus beauty debate and that my tendinitis will have to be put on the back burner until Mamma assures herself a paycheck. Tomorrow I am gong to meet the owner Sig. Malfatti and he is going to decide if I look the part. After that, the adventure should continue provided I don't get a huge zit on my nose tonight or eat a meal based on soy sauce and bloat up like a hot air balloon. I was raised by possibly the strongest feminist on earth to believe that I theoretically have value no matter what I look like, but, at the Ego, it is pretty clear that it will be an involuntary contestant in a constant beauty contest and that someone may at any moment put super glue in my metaphorical false eyelashes. I still have no idea of the salary, the schedule, or how much they take out in taxes. The only thing I really understood today is that the job audition is going to go on for quite a while even after I start, if I start, and that Giacomo prefers his girls to wear heels.


In other news, we tried to enroll T in high school yesterday on-line. This year Italy has gone high tech if we want it or not. Unfortunately, the site couldn't handle the number of families trying to fill out the registration forms and it stopped working. I had already registered and filled out one page, but every time I tried to get back on to fill out the rest of the pages it said that I had already done what I had to do and could not continue. Even if they fix the on-line form, they may not let me back on and then we will be last to register at the in-person event for people who can't access the Internet and don't understand probably even half of my reality TV references, poor things. Aside from the necessity of wearing heels no matter what, the other lesson Italy tries to teach you is that there is no point whatsoever in trying to do things in a timely manner. 

Woman whose ass I will probably have to kiss smoking outside the Ego.

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