Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure. -- Oprah Winfrey
Perhaps it is because the weather has been so crappy lately, or because I just spent the last four days street casting in New Jersey in a parking lot under the guise of doing marketing research. Or maybe it is simply because I got a horrible cold while standing in the parking lot chasing after moms, trying to put them on camera, but as I sat on the phone with my friend Jessica I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself.
With my up coming music show on the horizon I was suddenly feeling fat, old and not blonde. Yes, blonde and the reason why I say blonde, is because my husband Jimi several weeks earlier came up with the brilliant idea of a triple rock bill. Three “Hottie Rock Girls” on the same night, me sandwiched between the two acts. Oh great I thought to myself, not only do I have a twenty-three year old 5’8 Hottie opening up for me, to make matters worse, I have a twenty-four-year-old buxom blonde following me. Wow, you could put their two ages together and minus a few years and you would have me…shit! What was my husband thinking? Yes, between my cold, parking lot escapades and my twenty something-year old competition I was suddenly seeing every wrinkle and gray hair on my head.
As I whined to my ever so faithful girlfriend she said in the most endearing voice, “I am sorry Nef that you feel so fat, old and not blonde, Jimi sucks.” I of course whole-heartedly agreed and hung up the phone. As I yelled out to Jimi in the other room I said, “Jessica agrees, I am fat, old, not blonde and you suck for setting up this show.” Just then Jimi walked in the room and replied:
“Hottie number one wants to get together to practice singing into a microphone. She hasn’t done it in a while and is worried about it. Oh and can you make her a flyer? And Hottie number three can’t afford to pay each musician a $100.00 so she is going to do a stripped down acoustic show instead and I am going to play for her for free.”
Really, I thought to myself, and as I looked at my husband who was licking his chops from secretly trying to stuff a piece of chocolate in his mouth I started laughing. For one, I can’t remember the last time I was nervous about performing. In fact I probably haven’t thought about being nervous in over ten years. And as far as thinking about my mic technique, outside of worrying about the germs that were left on the mic from the last person who sang into it, I think of a microphone as an extension of me. As far as the money, a 100.00 per musician is standard in the industry and I can make my own flyer within five minutes flat.
In fact when it comes to performing I have sung with strep throat, on no sleep, with a broken heart and my period. I have sung in shitty clubs with shitty sound systems and even shittier soundmen. I have been on stage with terrible singers and singers that could run circles around me.
I have faked my way through lyrics, melodies and rhythms. Sung in front of 40,000 people and sung in front of nobody. I've had people in the industry tell me that I am ethnically ambiguous, to rock, to pop to fat, to black and I should sing R&B.
I have been told I have hits I have no hits, I should show my titts, and I even had one executive offer to show me how to dance on stage, as if.
Yes, in my twenty something years of performing, I have seen it all.
I have been told I have hits I have no hits, I should show my titts, and I even had one executive offer to show me how to dance on stage, as if.
Yes, in my twenty something years of performing, I have seen it all.
Suddenly I found myself straightening my shoulders and flipping my Farrah Fawcett hairdo back as a small cryptic smile crept across my face and I said to my husband:
“Why don’t I go and make Hottie number one a little flyer”.
See ladies we can’t stop time; we can only learn to embrace it. We can’t stop wrinkles; we can only slow them down with creams and sun hats. We can’t stop the grays from coming; we can only cover them up with hair dye. Nor can we stop the knowledge and perspective we gain from getting older, we can only rejoice in it.
So as I reflect back to my youth remember that in my twenties I often thought to myself: “Oh God, what if I never get married I will just die”
And then in my late twenties I became obsessed with getting a record deal and often thought to myself: “Oh God what if I don’t get signed my life would have meant nothing”
In my thirties while still waiting tables I used to think: “Oh God what if I spend the rest of my life waiting tables, I know I will die.”
Now in my 40s I think to myself: “Oh God what if I can’t get pregnant?"
Oh well, I guess we’ll adopt!
That’s the difference between your 20, 30s verses your 40s.
We learn that life happens we adjust accordingly.
