Sing Out Loud! just not in front of your brother’s cute best friend

When I was in the 7^th grade, my family was living in Newport, R.I. I love this town. We were living in one of those charming little duplexes that can only be found in New England. My room was smaller (my brother always tricked me out of the bigger room), at the back of the house on the second floor, and closest to the bathroom with the claw tub. Sigh. What I wouldn’t give for a claw foot tub.

During these years, I was incredibly awkward, shy, and had little self-confidence. My brother was the opposite, in my eyes at least. He was COOL! And, a popular athlete, which for the little sister meant he had very cute soccer player friends.

So, one day I’m in my room. Home. Alone. And taking advantage of it. I put my favorite (cough) cassette tape in to do the kind of singing you only do when you are home alone (or that later in life you will do, in your car, with your college roommate and fake microphones). The song of choice – Debbie Gibson “Lost In Your Eyes” from the Out of the Blue album. I rocked that mother. Heart. Soul. And High Notes. It was so good in fact, that I hit stop to rewind and do an encore. I was that good. (in my mind of course)

As the rewinding of the cassette player whirred, I hear a voice. My brother. “Erica?” Well that’s embarrassing. Nothing worse than someone overhearing your soul solo. However, the next, crawl into a hole, sentence came from none other than my brothers bestie, Shawn.

Shawn was THAT guy – the perfect mix of hottie, handsome and adorable, lovable, approachable guy next door, make you forget what you were saying the minute before, brother’s friend that you have a secret crush on. Yup. That guy.

So there I am, post house is empty solo, and the guy I can hardly say an intelligent sentence in front of, says, “Breaking the windows up there, huh Erica?” M.O.R.T.I.F.I.C.A.T.I.O.N. Where in heaven’s name do I crawl up and die? I couldn't even come up with a dignified response. In fact, I don’t remember if I ever answered. I just remember that I jumped into my bed and pulled the covers up over my head (because clearly it had the power to make me invisible), begging to rewind the last 5 minutes of my life.

This memory was all I could think about this morning on my run. Since my birthday run, I've taken up the regular habit of singing at random while running. It’s no Debbie Gibson solo, but it gets me through the next few miles. The fact is, I can't listen to "Are We Human or Are We Dancers" and not sing. It's impossible. And that goes for most of the other songs on my playlist. At one point this morning, several cyclists riding past me gave me the WTH look. I just smiled. I really didn’t care.

Sometimes a girl has just got to sing.