My Back Hurts

Could be the cross I've been carrying for 38 years, give or take. See, in lieu of an actual post, which I KNOW have been in short supply this week, dear reader(s), I'm posting a comment I was inspired to leave over at the lovely Hollow Squirrel's crib. She posted about those things we are self-conscious about but that dumbass people like to point out to us at every freaking turn, even when (like in my case) it's totally obvious. And how that hurts our feelings and makes us want to throw down and smack a bitch sometimes. Anyway, here 'tis:

Well, it’s apples and oranges, but my cross to bear is my freakishly high voice. Which is only made all the more odd by my being 5′10″. With the voice of a 3 year old. Check that - my 3 year old’s voice is lower than mine. Not a week goes by that I don’t answer some unsolicited sales call, only to have the person ask to speak to my mommy. I usually say, “She’s not here. She left me ALONE!” And then I push a bunch of buttons at once and slam the phone down. If I only had a dollar for every time someone asked me, “Come on. Is that your real voice?” I swear when the person in the drive thru asks me to repeat my order, they’re mocking me. And I very nearly forced my college voice teacher into early retirement when, after four years, she finally lost it and YELLED at me, in front of my entire acting class, “Why do you INSIST on talking in that RIDICULOUS pitch?” Now that time, I did run out of the room in tears, but usually I would say some smartass thing like, “Because I want Victoria Jackson’s spot on SNL,” which was actually relevant at the time.

OK, I showed you mine. Now, you show me yours.