The $100 lesson.

Photo by Mr. Snapper. Makeup and hair by Vivienne Vermuth.

I was really excited to join the Bad Girls Club a few months ago. It was pitched to me like a bunch of sexy Betty Crockers who raised money for animal, LGBTQIA++ and women's charities. I love baking and making stuff and I dig helping, so it seemed like a natural fit.

I mentioned in a past post how I don't really have the red and black wardrobe that many burlesquers favor. I got my official BGC t-shirt after I got this glorious jersey.

Let me just talk about jerseys for a minute. I've considered getting a custom Snapper jersey, using my logo for the front. Where would I wear it? Who knows.

I have six L.A. Kings jerseys. Six. I bought one in April when I returned for a game, knowing I'd only be seeing the Kings maybe twice per season in Dallas. I paid at least $100 for each of those jerseys, and I waited in line for six hours to get one of them signed. (I did a lot of my shopping when it was sale time.)

Jerseys are the uniform of fandom. They aren't cheap. I still don't have a Dallas Stars jersey and I'm a damned season ticket holder. To me, they signify commitment. You have occasions which would be suitable for the uniform. I'm sure I'll have a Stars jersey soon enough.

Because I didn't have the black and red wardrobe and wasn't sure when I'd have the shirt, I spent $100 on a jersey. I customized the striping and they matched the red to the logo. I loved how it looked. I shared a photo in the BGC member group and was looking forward to sharing a photo of it with the world. "Look how cool I am in the member uniform that suits me!"

I had to get past some personal concerns before clicking the order button. Should I spend a bill on this when I didn't have a Snapper logo jersey or Stars jersey? You can see that I pulled the trigger.

Before I had a chance to sign up for the next member volunteer shift, there was nonsense. It was nonsense I didn't see present before I joined. I felt like there was an overreach of behavior regulation, and I was in the minority with those feelings. (I'm a lot like John Locke in "LOST"-- "Don't tell me what I can't do!") A previously unexpressed culture of popularity as an expectation for membership pissed me right off.

I didn't say anything about it on social media. I just terminated my membership, wondering what to do about this glorious jersey that I no longer had the events or tribe for which to wear it.

Fuck that. I spent $100 on the jersey so you get to see it. Isn't it awesome?

The lesson: Pay attention to those gut feelings. I was right to hesitate. I should've waited another month or two before placing the order.

Oh, and invest in a Snapper jersey. (Yeah, and get that Stars jersey. I do like how Ben Bishop plays a whole lot.)