I don't know why I am even bothering to do this.

I mean, I have no business doing so.  I am very fat (weigh over 400 pounds easy; have always been a "big girl"), and I know the other members of the choir must find me to be ugly or disgusting when I am only a person who happens to be fat.

I don't think that this is very fair to judge me like this, especially since we are meeting every Thursday evening at church!  They are doing what God is telling them not to do: judging me!

I have always loved to sing, so I figured why not?  Why not do something useful instead of sitting around the house, feeling sorry for myself, because nobody will even try to hire me for a job when I am ready and willing and able to work??  I don't want to sit at home, collecting disability pay; I deserve far better than that!

So about a month ago, I went to the first practice.  I loved it ... at first.  I was put with the high sopranos because I happen to sing very high.  We are learning songs for the musical entitled "One Quiet Night".  We've already learned eight of the nine songs; we learn the last one on Thursday, November 11th.  It's a beautiful musical combined with drama, which makes it, in kind, more of a Cantata than a true musical.

That part is going very well.  It's the people's stares or comments or soft sniggers that I can do without.  I see them, pointing at me, or hear them, and it makes me extremely uncomfortable. 

Then I think about that I will have to stand on the risers (back row, I hope), in front of everybody, and the very thought if it makes my hands start to sweat and my heart start to pound in fear.  I have always had stage fright, ever since I had to sing that solo of "O, Holy Night" in elementary school, and everybody laughed when I started crying and ran off the stage because I got so scared.

I don't want to face that same humiliation all over again.

So far, I haven't been picked out for any solos, which is a blessing in disquise: there are people in the choir who are more deserving or more talented.  It's just that I happen to have a big, boooming voice, so it's a wonder that Jessie, the choir director, hasn't chosen me for one of the lead solo parts. 

I'd prefer that Jessie doesn't.  Then I will have to think of my disaster during "O, Holy Night" all over again, and I don't think I can live with the memories all over again!  Or the humiliation!

To be continued.