Performers aan het woord: Miss The Tease (in English)

The aftermath of pregnancy. Is it possible to go back to Burlesque performer again?

Hi there! This is a letter I started to write for myself that turned into a letter to all Women Who Are Tired of Being “Fine”.

Let’s get one thing straight: being a woman is an extreme sport.

And for reasons I will never understand, no one gives us a medal.

UFC fighters and wrestlers get belts, marathoners get shiny awards, bodybuilders get big fat trophies...

Meanwhile, women get “Wow, you’re so strong! Anyway, can you also handle everything else while you’re at it?”

So Cute (read it the dutch way with a K :)

This ain't just about motherhood (although that one deserves at least an Olympic gold statue). It’s also about all the women who are:

ambitious but overwhelmed,
dynamic but exhausted, 

full of dreams but stuck on the hamster wheel of daily life,

or simply wondering when the hell they last felt like themselves.

Whether you’re raising a child, raising a career, or raising your standards, one thing is certain: life has a way of turning us into machines that produce tasks instead of joy.

And we’ve all played along.

We say we’re “fine.” 

We smile like botoxed Hollywood actresses.

We pretend everything’s under control while balancing multiple spinning plates.

Because that’s what’s expected, right?

Pretty struggle, pink bubble, inspirational quotes in cursive font.

Well… no.

That’s not my story.

And I’m willing to bet it’s not yours either.

Some of us are walking around with invisible bruises from battles no one saw, because we were too busy keeping everyone else comfortable.

Some of us are trying to remember who we were before life got loud and we got quiet.

Some of us haven’t felt our own spark in so long, we so desperately try to find a map, a compass, or a supporting hand to find it again.

Plot twist: you won't “find” the time to come back to yourself — you can steal it though.

And I'm choosing to be guilty with?

Burlesque.

Yes, the feathers, the teasing, the music, the wink.

But more importantly:

The audacity.

The permission.

The celebration of being a woman who wants more than survival. Remorseless.

Burlesque gave me back parts of my adult self that I used to hide because of (not so) subtle bodyshaming.

It also reminded me that my body isn’t just a vehicle for responsibility.

It’s your own house of pleasure, creativity, humor, drama, softness, power — sometimes all after 10 pm, when the to do list is all checked ✔️

House is cleaned

Baby is fed

Diaper is changed, his nose cleaned, now it's time to file his nails while he's asleep!

I fed myself...did I?

I'm exhausted but my partner needs attentions too

My family members want to see the baby...cute videocall mode on.

How many doctor's appointment this week? Check and plan. 

gosh I still want to write that blog article and publish that post and update the highlights and check what's up with my friends and...and...and...

Anyhoo! I found a positive note out of all this chaos,  let me tell you:

Perhaps burlesque isn't your cup of tea.

Sit down, sip that tea and ask yourself what's that something that lights you up the most?

Something that makes you feel alive rather than productive.

Something that reminds you that you are not just a checklist — you’re a whole damn universe.

This is not a call for self-care.

This is a call for self-resuscitation. Yes, imagine yourself with old school defibrillators in your hands and pressing the shock button.

The truth is:

Women deserve medals for simply existing in this world with everything we juggle.

But since society is still lagging behind, my pen is the support I can offer while you're reading this.

If you’re struggling: you’re not broken.

If you’re exhausted: you’re not weak.

If you’re lost: you’re on the verge of coming back. 

If you’ve dimmed your light: it’s still there, and it’s powerful if you allow it.

And if no one has told you yet:

You deserve to (feel) like yourself again.

You deserve joy without guilt.

You deserve a life that isn’t just functional — but delicious.

This is your reminder that your story isn’t over.

It’s barely getting interesting.

With boldness, disenchantment, and a little glitter dust

—A woman who finally stopped being “fine” and writes about it.

Love and tease, don't hate please.

Jasmine aka Miss the Tease 💋