45 weeks without our gorgeous, witty, warm and bubbly showgirls.
45 weeks without the pre-class anticipation of choosing an outfit and getting ready to join the troupe for an hour of daftness and restorative mental balm.
45 weeks without the dancing – without the hilarious, beautiful, chaotic, sexy, individual yet coordinated, bloody stunning dancing.
45 weeks without that welcoming virtual hug of female company – without the news, the updates, the laughs, the shared frustrations and furies, the shared triumphs too.
Yep, we miss you.
But don’t take our silence to mean that we don’t plan to come back. Hell, no! We may be even older when we finally meet again (and, in my case at least, a tad fatter), but we are not yet ready to hang up our fishnets and feathers; our satins and our stilettos; and our corsets and our multiple pairs of drawers.
We will strut together again. We promise.Yours, "resting" in the meantime, as the actors say,
Burlicious x