Post by Laci Valentine on May 4, 2020 9:14:44 GMT -5
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Franklin Horner Community Center
Toronto, Ontario CANADA
Deep Breaths Laci
My eyes flutter open. It wasn't the most spectacular stage to perform on but it was a stage nonetheless. I wasn't naive enough to believe that this wasn't but one of the greatest plays there was, only you did your own stunts and there was very little compensation.
This was wrestling.
The meager lights shone on me, making my already fair skin make me look like a goth chick. Damn those latent Irish genes. I even got the red hair too, well, strawberry blonde, but still noticeable enough to get the occasional ginger joke.
And yes, before you ask, I do have a soul, thank you very much. And it's full of determination and passion for a sport that is probably the hardest to make a name for yourself in, much like Hollywood... but I digress.
The fans are a mixed bag to be honest. When you come to these independent shows, you never know for sure who you're going to get. At the last show, some guy wanted to buy my worn underwear. Gross.
But not all wrestling fans are grody pigs. Some are people that idolize you and what you do but in this instance, I'm challenging a regular in this company and she is favoured to win. I was just some kid, fresh out of school and a perfect practice dummy for this chick named Babelicious.
Yup. Isn't that just the most feminist name you've ever heard? *insert an eye-roll here for emphasis* I don't know whether to think of a bad 90's TV show or just some provocative form of chewing gum. Either way, my chances were slim of coming out the victor. Which was one reason for my need to breathe.
I have GAD (General Anxiety Disorder) but that's totally between you and me, got it? I guess you could say that your father emotionally abandoning you at birth was a big cause and then overachieving the rest of your life to try to fill that void of not being validated. Well... it really does affect a person, i.e. me.
I hide it well though and I don't like talking about it. It's not really anyone's business but it does affect everything I do, every decision I make. Right now there are two versions of me. At home I am Laci-Marie Valenzola, loving daughter and friend. Also anxiety sufferer. In that ring, I am Laci Valentine. Tough as nails wrestling rookie who has nothing but confidence. It isn't any sort of personality disorder. It's just, that in order to succeed, you can't show any weaknesses. They are two different worlds that I need to keep separate.
My theme music fills the gymnasium and the crowd are respectful for the most part. The stereotype that all Canadians are nice, is just that, a stereotype. I have met my fair share of assholes, pardon my french. There are a few men leering, a few women giving me cut-eye but that's not really surprising. My ring gear is tight and revealing. In fact my step-father had given me a few choice nicknames regarding it, making him one of those not-so-nice Canadians I mentioned.
Babelicious is a volumpious woman who wore a full piece singlet to conceal some of her volump. Her hair is bottle blonde and her makeup very heavy. She bats her eyes in a very 1950's pinup sort of way at a group of men who I assume are regulars to this promotion. It seemed to win them over.
"And making her way to the ring, from the heart of Toronto, it's Laaaaaci Valentine!"
He says my last name with a growl, I assumed trying to imitate some more well known announcers in bigger promotions. Babelicious turns toward me now as I step through the ropes. I got a sneaking suspicion that this would probably hurt.
***
As I thought, Babelicious was able to easily use her experience against me, resulting in her win. My shoulders ached but nothing a good heating pad and some analgesic cream couldn't cure. The crowds had cheered her as I rolled out of the ring and to the back to change. Although changing just meant throwing a t-shirt over my glorified bra. I greeted fans, signed pictures and even got a few praises but no praise was more surprising than that of the woman who pinned me. She came over to my card table setup of merch to offer me her hand.
"I'm Candace, Candy for short." Of course it was. "You did really good out there, how long have you been doing shows?"
"About a year now." I offer. "And my real name is Laci."
She smiles. "Well, I got a kind of tip from a friend that there was a brand new promotion in Alberta looking for young and exceptional talent. I'd go but I have roots here that I just don't want to leave."
She pulls out her phone to show me her home screen. Two teenage boys hugging her with a lot less makeup and a lot more clothing. I knew she was older but not old enough to have teenagers.
"If you have nothing keeping you here, you should tryout." She pulls out a card from her pocket with a phone number on it. "Give this guy a call. Mention my name."
I take it. Wow. I mean it was a big step forward for me and for a virtual stranger to help me out, meant so much. I had to really hold it together though, no one could see the emotional side of me.
"Thanks a lot." I am completely flabbergasted by this gesture. I suppose this is where the expression, 'kindness of strangers' comes in to play, I suppose.
"Don't mention it. Just do good kid." She pats my shoulder before turning to greet some fans.
Of course that tiny voice in my head rears its ugly head and laughs, "You won't get past a tryout, you couldn't even beat that busted up bi-"
"Shut up. I can do this," I muse internally, interrupting that negative side of myself, "I was made for this."
Franklin Horner Community Center
Toronto, Ontario CANADA
Deep Breaths Laci
My eyes flutter open. It wasn't the most spectacular stage to perform on but it was a stage nonetheless. I wasn't naive enough to believe that this wasn't but one of the greatest plays there was, only you did your own stunts and there was very little compensation.
This was wrestling.
The meager lights shone on me, making my already fair skin make me look like a goth chick. Damn those latent Irish genes. I even got the red hair too, well, strawberry blonde, but still noticeable enough to get the occasional ginger joke.
And yes, before you ask, I do have a soul, thank you very much. And it's full of determination and passion for a sport that is probably the hardest to make a name for yourself in, much like Hollywood... but I digress.
The fans are a mixed bag to be honest. When you come to these independent shows, you never know for sure who you're going to get. At the last show, some guy wanted to buy my worn underwear. Gross.
But not all wrestling fans are grody pigs. Some are people that idolize you and what you do but in this instance, I'm challenging a regular in this company and she is favoured to win. I was just some kid, fresh out of school and a perfect practice dummy for this chick named Babelicious.
Yup. Isn't that just the most feminist name you've ever heard? *insert an eye-roll here for emphasis* I don't know whether to think of a bad 90's TV show or just some provocative form of chewing gum. Either way, my chances were slim of coming out the victor. Which was one reason for my need to breathe.
I have GAD (General Anxiety Disorder) but that's totally between you and me, got it? I guess you could say that your father emotionally abandoning you at birth was a big cause and then overachieving the rest of your life to try to fill that void of not being validated. Well... it really does affect a person, i.e. me.
I hide it well though and I don't like talking about it. It's not really anyone's business but it does affect everything I do, every decision I make. Right now there are two versions of me. At home I am Laci-Marie Valenzola, loving daughter and friend. Also anxiety sufferer. In that ring, I am Laci Valentine. Tough as nails wrestling rookie who has nothing but confidence. It isn't any sort of personality disorder. It's just, that in order to succeed, you can't show any weaknesses. They are two different worlds that I need to keep separate.
My theme music fills the gymnasium and the crowd are respectful for the most part. The stereotype that all Canadians are nice, is just that, a stereotype. I have met my fair share of assholes, pardon my french. There are a few men leering, a few women giving me cut-eye but that's not really surprising. My ring gear is tight and revealing. In fact my step-father had given me a few choice nicknames regarding it, making him one of those not-so-nice Canadians I mentioned.
Babelicious is a volumpious woman who wore a full piece singlet to conceal some of her volump. Her hair is bottle blonde and her makeup very heavy. She bats her eyes in a very 1950's pinup sort of way at a group of men who I assume are regulars to this promotion. It seemed to win them over.
"And making her way to the ring, from the heart of Toronto, it's Laaaaaci Valentine!"
He says my last name with a growl, I assumed trying to imitate some more well known announcers in bigger promotions. Babelicious turns toward me now as I step through the ropes. I got a sneaking suspicion that this would probably hurt.
***
As I thought, Babelicious was able to easily use her experience against me, resulting in her win. My shoulders ached but nothing a good heating pad and some analgesic cream couldn't cure. The crowds had cheered her as I rolled out of the ring and to the back to change. Although changing just meant throwing a t-shirt over my glorified bra. I greeted fans, signed pictures and even got a few praises but no praise was more surprising than that of the woman who pinned me. She came over to my card table setup of merch to offer me her hand.
"I'm Candace, Candy for short." Of course it was. "You did really good out there, how long have you been doing shows?"
"About a year now." I offer. "And my real name is Laci."
She smiles. "Well, I got a kind of tip from a friend that there was a brand new promotion in Alberta looking for young and exceptional talent. I'd go but I have roots here that I just don't want to leave."
She pulls out her phone to show me her home screen. Two teenage boys hugging her with a lot less makeup and a lot more clothing. I knew she was older but not old enough to have teenagers.
"If you have nothing keeping you here, you should tryout." She pulls out a card from her pocket with a phone number on it. "Give this guy a call. Mention my name."
I take it. Wow. I mean it was a big step forward for me and for a virtual stranger to help me out, meant so much. I had to really hold it together though, no one could see the emotional side of me.
"Thanks a lot." I am completely flabbergasted by this gesture. I suppose this is where the expression, 'kindness of strangers' comes in to play, I suppose.
"Don't mention it. Just do good kid." She pats my shoulder before turning to greet some fans.
Of course that tiny voice in my head rears its ugly head and laughs, "You won't get past a tryout, you couldn't even beat that busted up bi-"
"Shut up. I can do this," I muse internally, interrupting that negative side of myself, "I was made for this."