Fitting into a spoon

We got our costumes last night for Beauty and the Beast. I have 2 costumes: villager and spoon. Now, the villager costume is awesome. Even has a snappy looking hat that looks very vintage. I love it.

The spoon is another story.

The spoon costume is basically a black tuxedo with the spoon growing out of the back of the shirt. The spoon fastens to the body kind of like a back-pack with a very thick piece of foam rubber between your back and the handle of the spoon. (At the risk of getting ahead of myself, the foam rubber acts like a sponge, absorbing sweat as the body releases it, thus increasing in weight.) (OH NO! THE AFOREMENTIONED CASTMATE WITH B.O. IS A KNIFE!)

So the spoon must be threaded though a hole in the back of the tuxedo shirt... prior to putting it on (learned that the hard way). And, it is no small feat to feed the spoon through the said hole in the tuxedo shirt. Did I mention that the spoon is very tall? I go from about 5'5" to about 6'5" when I have my spoon costume on.

This led to the first problem I had with the costume. Actually, the 1st problem was getting into the costume. The second problem I had with the costume was forgetting that I was now 6'5" tall and could not walk through the same doors that I was able to earler in the evening. In order to get from the back stage to the wings of the stage, I had to bow at the waist. Being that there were 3 pieces of flatware going on stage in succession, I had to make sure I don't harm the knife while bowing.

The next challenge I had was the 'metronome' effect of the spoon. This is a particular problem when you're dancing on stage. In one particular movement, I must lean to the right and salute to Belle. The spoon's momentum in that lean nearly caused me to fall over. (I'm told that adjustments can be made to the back-pack to minimize this phenomonon.)

The final challange to the spoon costume, as mentioned previously, is its (ever increasing) weight. I'm not exactly large in frame, so the costume is winning the scrimmage.

Despite all of these issues, rehearsal was a blast. Allison, one of my co-flatware - in fact the show's other spoon, were doubled over in laughter at times. All we had to do was look at each other and the giggles would start.

I'm sure I'll get used to this new appendage.

And maybe when the show closes I'll miss it. It will be just like amputees with phantom itches. I'll find myself bowing down when I enter a room. People will think I've gone mad.