Clowning scares me. Not in the 'mummy, don't let him near me' kind of way but more in the 'please, don't make me get up and be a clown' way. I realise that without the full Fame School back-story this opening sentence makes no sense so click HERE to get up to speed.
See, my problem is that I have an aversion to looking stupid. I swear it aggravates my psoriasis. And without looking stupid, we have no clown.
We have all had moments where we looked stupid unintentionally, right? Some of us have been unlucky in that these moments were captured, by someone that cared in their own special way, for posterity, and are sources of amusement for potential life-partners during visits to your folks (everyone should experience the photo-album ritual/humiliation) or for frenemies that lurk on your Facebook page, killing time by going through your tagged photos.
Three weeks into Clowning and I am at a total loss. I raided my wardrobe for an attire fitting of a clown but nothing I own (Sic!) seems to cut the mustard. In despair, I must venture to my local charity shop. My mission: to find an outfit for the clown within. If I must look stupidly ridiculous I might as well do it for a good cause, such as the Red Cross. See, I am no longer thinking of Clowning as me looking stupid but rather me giving back. Yes, I have, as of now, elevated my clowning endeavour to charitable status because I know me looking stupid will make many a people happy.
You can of course help by suggesting what the clown in me should wear!