Happy Belated B-day to Me
& Queen B
The first time I was shhhh’d by a man I was on a date in Jacksonville FL. I was 20 years old and had just moved home from a very fun, wild and unproductive few years living in Los Angeles. Having enrolled in college for the first time I met this “much older man” at an indie bar late one Saturday night. Long story short he was only there for random fun. I was there because it was my go-to never checked my ID played fun not pop music until 4am.
Turns out we had a lot more in common than just a love of late-night dancing. His dad was a lawyer who in fact knew my dad from the business. This much older man was also a lawyer, but his love lay in writing and the fanciest part about him was his nice way-too-expensive car. He had the kind of face that got lost in the crowd. Having just left a town with seven million absolutely asethically perfect people, lost in the crowd was exactly what I was looking for.
We were on our third or fourth date at Moon River Pizza in Murphy Hills - a recently spruced up neighborhood, where a lot of locals were opening hip breweries and bringing the once shuttered part of town alive again. We were sitting at the table and clear as day I can see that he had a beer, I a soda and there was a pizza between us. I was getting excited telling a story. Moving my arms around and laughing. He put his finger up, looked around the restaurant and quietly said a shhhhh.
I would like to tell you that I stood up, tossed the soda in his drink and stormed out. I didn’t. There’s no taking her power back in this story of 20-year-old Josie. Just a sad memory where I shrunk my shoulders, looked around and couldn’t believe I’d let myself get so comfortable in such a public place.
Getting comfortable has rarely happened since. I don’t fully blame my ability to shrink smaller than an ant in every room to this one stupid date, but I do remember it. Vividly. And I can tell you where it lives in my body and how I shrink at just the memory.
I always go back to the familiar phrase. It’s impossible to live inside an epiphany. Today, on the eve of my birthday, I disagree. If I can live inside a shameful memory and allow it to hold even one iota of space in my body and my day-to-day I can bring an epiphany inside that space and kick out the shame.
I swear to y’all – my Gods – I won’t be shrinking anymore. I’ve already been practicing talking louder than people and it’s painful as hell. My body physically hurts as I project louder than this one or that one, but it’s the good kind of hurt.
Today, and tomorrow and the next day, I’d rather feel the pain of being too big for every room I stand in than live hunched up and curled over for one more second.
My belly can’t take it. My back is broken from the pressure it holds every day slumping itself in two. My happy birthday hernia is ready for the breath to let it go.
So here we go – letting it the F go.
If you liked quiet Josie, wait until you see loud and in charge Josie. Double D’s and all.
Happy 25 to me.