Pay Your Dues, Stupid

"In the blur of serenity

Where did everything get lost?" ~NIN~

So. I heard from Ex-Bf yesterday. He and Boy Agent are friends, and Boy Agent passed along the message through Ex-Bf that I could come back to work, on two conditions - the first one, obviously, is that I have gained weight. The second is that he wants to be reimbursed for the commission he lost out on, on the Night of The Seven Hour Blackout. The commission for a stag is $75, and I whole-heartedly agreed that I owe him that money. I had also been booked for another stag on the following night, but my mum had called him during the day to tell him that I would not be able to do it. Boy Agent wants to be reimbursed for that one as well, which I can understand, as he may have had trouble finding someone to replace me in the 8 hours notice we gave him. But Ex-Bf told me yesterday that Boy Agent wants a total of $225 if I want to return to work. Supposedly Boy Agent had one other stag that he had booked me for that weekend, though I never heard a thing about it. I'm sure that there wasn't actually a third show, and that I am just being punished to teach me a lesson, but there it is. I can go back to work when I come up with $225 for Boy Agent.

Despite my annoyance at Boy Agent for exploiting my screw-up for his own financial gain, I know that I am getting off relatively easily. I should be thrilled that he is willing to take me back after I cocked things up so badly. I should have been at the office first thing this morning, money in hand and spewing forth excessive apologies. I should already have a full week of work booked up and ready to go, so that I can make my car payment at the end of the month.

I should have done all these things. Yet here I sit, doing nothing. Absolutely sweet fuck-all.

I'm not sure where this immobility is coming from. I know that I am not in dire straights, as I have been getting work from Girl Agent, but the prickly side of that pear is that if I get caught working for her, I will be quite royally fucked. The Main Agency, which is who Boy Agent works for, is responsible for booking all the clubs in This Province - there is no competing agency for the club bookings, Main Agency has them all. As such, they have a long-standing policy that their dancers are not allowed to do stags for any other agency. If we do, Main Agency will revoke our licenses, and we will no longer be able to work in the clubs, which is our bread and butter. Boy Agent has given me leeway in the past, looking the other way so I could pick up shows from Girl Agent when he did not have any work for me. But right now, if Boy Agent were to discover that I am doing stags for Girl Agent, instead of apologizing to him and paying my dues, I feel certain that he would lose his shit. He would be justified in doing so, too - he has given me so much work in the past, it's pretty disgusting of me to just go running back to the other agency instead of taking responsibility for what I have done.

If I am honest, I think I am avoiding my face-to-face with Boy Agent because I am scared. I am scared that the weight I have gained will not be enough, and he will try to make me gain more; I am scared that I will go back to work and just fall right back into my old patterns, and absolutely nothing will change; I am scared of word getting back to Baby Momma about my eating disorder and her using it as another means to torture me; I am scared that I won't be able to accept myself at this weight if I return to dancing full time.

All of these things have kept me from pursuing Boy Agent and getting my job back. One of the best features of working for Girl Agent is that no other dancer out there works for both - I don't have to see anyone else I know, and am therefore slightly less self conscious about my weight. It sucks to admit it, but I know that the other girls, particularly Baby Momma, are going to eat me alive when I go back. I got a glimpse of it this past week, with the over-exaggerated gasps upon my arrival onstage and the shameless staring and gossiping right in front of me, as though when I put on those 20 lbs, I somehow lost my hearing as well.

Girls are vicious, especially in this industry. I know that my weight gain will be a source of great satisfaction for more than one girl. I also know that none of them will see it as a positive step towards health and recovery, but rather as a sign of weakness and a step towards fading away.

And yes, I realize that I am putting far too much stock into the thoughts and actions of the other girls, but... you know. There, by the grace of God, obsess I.

It is now 12 hours later, and since I am no closer to making a decision or taking any kind of action, I might as well talk about my past two days.

Yesterday, Tuesday, was another good day. I didn't really do much during the day, but in the evening I went tanning, went to a meeting, and even went to the gym, finally. Then I came back home, and Bf and I watched Entourage until we both fell asleep in the living room. Bf woke me up in the recliner at some point and moved me upstairs, where I was woken up a few hours later by the back spasms that have been plaguing me nightly for the past few months. I limped back downstairs to the recliner, where I stretched out again, and went back to sleep.

I slept fairly well on the recliner, but still woke up shortly after 8 in this morning. I made myself a snack, then limped outside for a smoke with Moo. Bf came out onto the porch a few minutes later in his underwear to check that I was alright. I smiled up at him from my spot on the steps, tossed my cigarette, then got up to follow him back into the house.

We went upstairs to wake Baby together, whom Bf had picked up the night before at her mum's house. Wednesdays are usually Bf's day off at work, and even though he didn't actually have Wednesday off this week, he decided to take Baby for the day anyway. I think he was trying to stick to their agreed arrangement no matter what, as letting go of any scheduled time with Baby right now could be manipulated by Baby Momma into something negative. So even though he wouldn't really get to see her, Bf brought Baby home for the day.

He had asked me on Monday if I was interested in watching her, and I had jumped at the chance. Firstly, I was still anxious to spend time with both of them to make up for the time lost when my depression was raging out of control. And secondly, I had noticed over the past two days that I was missing Baby like crazy. I couldn't wait to spend the whole day with her, which is a pleasant change from being too exhausted to climb the stairs and read her a bedtime story.

That morning, Baby and I got Daddy off to work, then settled in for our day together. We set up camp in the living room with Treehouse on the t.v., and spent the morning playing with her toys and dressing up in my boots and shoes so we could prance around the living room. Just before lunchtime, we put on our coats and boots and took Moo Moo out for a walk. After our walk, I made us some Kraft Dinner for lunch, then put Baby down for a nap and crashed out on the couch for a bit. She woke up kinda late, around 4:30, and after a quick snack, we took Moo Moo and one of Baby's babies in the car, and went grocery shopping together. She was awesome at the grocery store, never complaining when she asked for something that she wanted and I had to say no. A couple of other yummy mummies were there, and called me Baby's mum, and complimented me on how much "your daughter loves you!"

We went back home to put away the groceries, and Baby stayed in the kitchen to help me stock the fridge and make our dinner. She had just put a tin of coffee in the fridge, then she picked up a bag of Teddy Grahams and walked over to me at the counter. And that's when she said something that made me yelp with both excitement and fear.

"Momma Kg," she said, waving the bag of cookies. "Have some?"

Omigod, I thought to myself. Omigod, omigod, omigod! What do I do?!?!

I was so touched and honored that she had called me my own special Mummy name, I could have cried. But the thought also occurred to me that if Baby said that in front of Baby Momma, Baby Momma probably really would cry. I mean, I get jealous when one of my dogs enjoys being pet by anyone other than me. I could only imagine how much it would hurt me if one of them thought of someone else as their mummy. I would be absolutely devastated, and they are just dogs. I should imagine that it would hurt ten times worse if it were your human daughter.

I briefly entertained the idea of encouraging Baby to keep saying it - after all, Baby Momma has done so much to hurt me, why the FUCK should I FUCKING CARE about her feelings? I was being offered a golden chance to hurt her back, and it wouldn't even be my fault. And God, did I EVER want to hurt Baby Momma back somehow - and why the fuck shouldn't I?

It took a while to talk myself out of it, but eventually I convinced myself that it just wasn't worth it. Doing something like that would mean sinking to her level, and I don't want to be the kind of person who takes pleasure in hurting other people.

In short, I don't want to be like her.

Though I will say here how fucking good it felt when Baby called me Momma Kg.