I’m Going to He** in a handbasket…

Tonight…

At precisely 7:00…

On the stage of our church…

(Get there early for good seats)

It’s going to be a trainwreck.

The women of our church meet once a month on a Tuesday night for a little inspiration, instruction, and calorie-laden dessert.  This month our topic is cleaning and organizing.  I was asked to teach a mini-class on organization.  I deferred, claiming I’m not really very organized.  Truth be told, I’d rather stick a fork in my eyeball than speak in public.  So, she politely asked me if I’d be interested in playing a small  part in a skit instead.

Now, in my head I was picturing the monthly cub scout pack meeting skits.  You know, the 15 second spot where the boys pretend to eat trail mix and find out it’s really bunny droppings, or something along those lines. A quick skit with a line or two from all participants.

So, I said, “Sure, I’d be happy to help out…that doesn’t count as public speaking, right?”  With a glint in her eye and a polite smile she left.

I  took the copy of the skit and being the procrastinator that I am,  I set it aside.

I finally picked it up last week to read through.

HOLY TOLEDO!  My part is HUGE!  And, the worst part?

(drum roll….)

I have to sing!

SOLO!

A CAPELLA!

FREAKING OUT.  STILL.  A WEEK LATER!!!

I’d rather stick a fork, two knives, and a screwdriver in both eyes, naked, than sing in public!!! (OK, maybe not the naked part).  The last time I sang a solo?  Never.  Ever.  The last time I sang in a choir?  Never.  Ever.  The last time I sang in front of my family?  Last night. Because I had to practice. Whereupon I heard:

“Why did they pick you for this part?”

“Oh, you sound really baaaad, Mom”.

“Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

And the ultimate insult:

“Dad sings better than you.” !!!

I’m not sure why she chose me for the part.  In real life I’m quiet and reserved and I’m a backseat kind of a girl.  Is she exacting her revenge on me for forgetting to bring the funeral potatoes to the last funeral?  Could be.  In any case, it’s too late to bow out.  I’m doomed.

As I’ve been contemplating this unfortunate fate of mine, I had to make a decision.

Do I mumble through the song quietly and timidly hoping nobody notices that I’m trying to sing and  run the risk of people thinking, “Wow, that was lame.”  Or do I power it out loudly in the spirit of William Hung, overly dramatic hand gestures and all,  and run the risk of people thinking, “Wow, I wonder if she actually thinks she’s a good singer“.

I’m going for the latter.  It will be a disaster either way.  At least this way, I’ll make a big impression and everyone will remember never to invite me to do anything on stage. Ever. Again.

So, if you get there tonight and I’m nowhere to be found, check for missing forks, knives and screwdrivers.  Maybe I’ll get lucky…

My script is calling…

Happy Tuesday!