A couple months ago, I received an invitation to be the
guest speaker at an upcoming meeting of a prestigious women’s organization.
Flattered, I accepted...and then I headed straight for the bottle of Pepto
Bismol.
The truth is, I’d rather sleep in a pit filled with venomous
snakes than speak in public. So why did I accept the invitation? Because I was
determined to conquer my phobia once and for all.
My first (and last) public-speaking engagement took place back
when I was 21, when a friend asked me to read some of my original poetry at his
Lions Club meeting.
I’ll never forget that night. There I stood, reading my love
poems to about 35 men who looked as if they’d rather be watching pro-wrestling.
I actually heard snoring coming from the back of the room. And to make matters
even worse, my nervousness caused me to perspire so much, my mascara ran in two
big streaks down my cheeks. When I later saw my “Alice Cooper” reflection in
the restroom mirror, I was so embarrassed, I wanted to flush myself.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” one of my friends
asked when I told her I’d accepted the women’s group’s invitation to speak.
I nodded. “If I can get through it, then my fear
of public speaking finally will be over and I’ll do just fine after that.”
“Unless you fail miserably.” she just had to add
So I decided to ask a few of my friends, seasoned public speakers, for some helpful pointers.
Of course, more than one gave me the standard, “If you feel nervous, just
picture everyone in the audience sitting there wearing nothing but their
underwear.”
“That will make me feel even worse,” I muttered. “These
women are so classy, they’re all probably wearing La Perla panties from Neiman
Marcus. I buy mine at Family Dollar!”
“Open your talk with a joke to lighten the atmosphere,”
another friend suggested. “If your audience laughs, then you’ll know you’re
all set and can relax.”
“And if they don’t laugh?” I asked.
“Run for your life,” he answered.
Once again, I reached for the Pepto Bismol.
I spent a lot of time rehearsing what I was going to say
during my required 20-to-30-minute guest appearance. I stood in front of my
full-length mirror and practiced facial expressions and hand gestures. And when
timing my speech, I even paused to allow for laughter, all the while praying
there actually would be laughter to pause for. The problem was, the more I practiced, the more artificial I
looked – like a puppet or a wind-up doll.
So I tried out my material on one of my friends, to test her
reaction.
If she had been in the middle of suffering from a
gallbladder attack, her expression couldn’t have looked more pained.
“That does it!” I whined. “I can’t go through with this!”
But as the big day of my speaking engagement drew closer, I
actually began to feel more confident. I practiced deep breathing to calm
myself. I memorized the notes I’d scribbled down during my flashes of
inspiration. I even mastered a smile that didn’t look as if it had been stamped on my face. I was ready.
And as luck would have it, the day before my scheduled
appearance, I developed the world’s worst abscessed tooth. I had no choice but
to call the women’s organization and cancel my big debut.
Sitting in the dentist’s chair and hearing him revving up
the drill for my root canal, I realized that the thought of impending,
excruciating physical pain made me feel less nervous than the thought of
speaking in public. I was convinced that the toothache had been part of some
divine intervention...that it had rescued me from making a stammering,
mascara-streaked fool of myself and inevitably experiencing the most
humiliating day of my life.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
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Actual newspaper clipping from my poetry reading!
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