Meet the human tripod!
Thursday 11th December 2008
Mum's words had stuck with me throughout my life.
'You can be anything you want to be,' she'd always told me.
A nice idea, but not entirely true. You see, I wanted to be an actress and make it big in Hollywood. Possible? Well, not really.
Take a look at my picture. I'm not the most conventional shape, am I? I was born with a rare condition, which means my right leg is missing and my left leg is very short because I don't have the femur bone that makes up the thigh. I'm a diddy 3ft 9in tall.
'Don't let it hold you back,' my mum, Heidi, 40, said.
Believe me, I hadn't. As a child, I'd joined gymnastic and tae kwon do classes. I was never teased. Who'd dare? I was successful at everything I turned my hand to. Everything, that is, except acting.
In the school plays, I was typecast as an animal. It seems outrageous in today's politically correct world, but 10 years ago, no one thought twice about casting me as the sheep in the school Christmas production. I dealt with it the same way I'd dealt with everything. I laughed it off and woe betide anyone who didn't laugh with me. When I got older, I joined a local playhouse. There, I was typecast as a child. By the time I applied for university, I'd got the message.
'I'm not meant to be on screen,' I sighed to Mum.
So I decided to study audio engineering at Lane Community College in Eugene, Oregon. I loved music and, if I couldn't be a star myself, I'd work behind the scenes in recording studios. A year into the course, I was enjoying it, but I wasn't enjoying my student bank balance.
'I wish we had the money to go travelling this summer,' I moaned to my housemate, Chris, 27. We were listening to some chat show on local radio, and the DJ was introducing a guest.
'Today, I'm talking to Samantha…' he began. 'Otherwise known as “Freak Mama” from the 999 Eyes travelling freak show.'
Did freak shows still exist? I thought they were something from the Victorian ages.
'Are you a freak?' Samantha asked. 'If you have two heads, missing limbs or skin conditions, and have amazing talents, come and join us.
'We're the last great travelling freak show.'
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A freak show!
'I could do that!' I gasped.
'You'd be perfect,' Chris agreed.
It was a genuine compliment from him, honest.
The word 'freak' has got such a negative meaning in today's society. It's a shame because I like being different from other people and I'm comfortable with my body. If this gave me a chance to show off my freakiness, I was all for it. I noted down the bar where the 999 Eyes were performing and headed over there. I was only 20, so I wasn't allowed in, as the legal drinking age in Oregon is 21. But I waited outside until the performers turned up. First, a pretty dwarf pedalled up on a tall bike, jumped down and walked into the bar. Seconds later, an old school bus pulled up, and I watched, mesmerised, as people got off. I spotted a man with lumps all over his skin, and a woman with hands like lobster claws.
Then, a woman approached me.
'I'm Samantha,' she said. 'Are you here to join the show?'
'Yes,' I nodded.
Samantha introduced me to Deidre 'The Dancing Dwarf', Eta, 'The Lobster Girl', the show's comedian, and Ken, 'The Modern Day Elephant Man'.
'There are a few acts who aren't here today,' she explained.
There was Catherine 'Cat Lady', who'd tattooed her entire face to look like a cat, and Greg, the 'Giant- handed Man'.
'You'll need a stage name, too,' Samantha told me.
A stage name?
'Think of something that describes your body shape,' she encouraged.
I had a flash of inspiration.
'Got it,' I grinned. 'Jackie, the Human Tripod.'
When I walked around on my hands, I did look like a little tripod.
'Perfect,' Samantha grinned.
She was so excited to have me on board she dragged me out on the stage that night. I didn't have an act, so I just waved at the crowd as Samantha introduced me.
Listening to their applause and cheers, I was hooked. I'd given up hope that'd I'd ever
be a performer. Yet here I was, centre stage. Suddenly, all my reservations had disappeared.
Freak shows have bad reputations, but this show was all about celebrating diversity. Don't get me wrong. I'm a modern woman. I like watching MTV and updating my Facebook profile.
But at last, I'd found a way to embrace my freakiness. I was so excited, I thought I might burst.
Afterwards, Samantha told me they were setting off on tour in
four days.
'Do you think you can get an act together by then?' she asked.
'You bet,' I smiled.
But before I could work on my act, there was something I had to do. I called Mum.
'Guess what?' I said nervously.
'I've joined a freak show.'
'A what?' Mum gasped.
'A freak show,' I repeated.
'You don't need to do something like that,' she cried. 'You're worth so much more.'
'You don't understand…' I argued.
I told her about the live band, the incredible talents. The tour was three months, so I'd be back in time to start my course.
'OK,' she sighed eventually. 'You know best.'
Over those next few days, I worked hard perfecting a five-minute acrobatic routine with plenty of cartwheels and tumbling. Before I knew it, I was on the bus. The following weeks were the best. We toured all over the US, performing in bars to huge crowds.
I learned how to perform one-handed handstands, then I included some martial arts.
Along the way, the show found plenty more acts. There was John, or 'T-Rex' as he was otherwise known, a man with tiny arms who was a talented drummer. Then there was Jason, 'The Black Scorpion', whose hands were split like lobster claws. When the tour was over, I was gutted to be going home. Not that it was the end of my freak show days.
'Count me in for the next tour,' I told Samantha.
With just a couple of months left at college, I intended to forge a career out of 'freak show' appearances.
'I'm so lucky,' I told Mum.
'As long as you're happy,' she replied.
I was. But I was soon to be even happier. It was the summer of 2007, and I'd been with the show for two years.
'The Big Circus Sideshow', a travelling museum of freaky animals, had come into town and we all traipsed down to have a look.
'Look at him!' I whispered to Samantha, nodding towards a tall brown-haired man.
'He's nice,' she agreed.
He came over and introduced himself as Josh Bladvik, 25, the animals' keeper.
We chatted about our show and I asked for Josh's phone number. Over those following months, we became firm friends. Describing Josh as shy is an understatement and it took him a year to pluck up the courage to ask me out. On our third date, I got fed up waiting.
'Do you like me or not?' I asked him.
'Y-yes,' he stammered.
'Well then, come here,' I said, and planted a big, wet kiss on his lips.
That was 18 months ago. We're living together now and hope to get married next year.
Mum told me I could achieve anything I want in life and I doubted her for a while. All right, I'm not your average young woman. I'm different. But you know what? That's OK.