I've wanted to be a singer ever since I saw a stage production of My Fair Lady, as a very young girl. I've wanted to be a singer ever since I watched Funny Girl and discovered I could do a really terrific impression of Barbara Streisand...minus the pipes! I suppose when God was handing out lovely singing voices to the heavenly angels who wanted them, I was absent. I was probably off somewhere, doing my hair.
|Twinners? Maybe. Kooky noses? YES!|
Here's the thing... I rarely sing in front of people. If I try to sing alto, I'm usually as flat as my chest. If I try to sing the high notes, I sound like a screeching bald eagle. Not pretty! (I should also mention that every note above a G is a high note for me!) I've mastered the art of lip syncing, people! I'm great at it, especially during the congregational hymns in church. And this is exactly why I would sound "terrible, horrible, and no good" singing the infamous, "People"---I'm plain awful! It's tragic. *sigh* What a heart breaker for a girl who just wants to serenade Omar Sharif.
|Hello, you tall, dark, handsome, smoldering, sexy man...with a hair part that starts on the side of your head!|
I admit I have my moments when I cut loose, let my hair down, toss caution to the wind, and sing my little heart out. In the kitchen, while listening to some tunes and mopping my sticky floor. In the shower, while shampooing my hair. In the tub. In the laundry room. In the car, when a good jam comes across the radio airwaves. I'll pretend I'm Adele, or that hip, blond chick from The Ting Tings, and throw my head back and sing like I was born to do it! I envision myself taking center stage; the audience breathless with anticipation. The spotlight is on me. The music starts, the crowd roars, I open my mouth and... I. Am. Awesome! It's wonderful and freeing and fun to pretend...
Until a certain someone very dear to me brings me crashing, brutally, back to reality.