A ROCKER CHICK WANNABE

My mom offered to purchase floor seats, first row, in the section reserved for wheelchairs for one of Cher's Farewell Tour stops in STL. The offer was one time only for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Any diehard Cher fan would have jumped (Pun intended) at this offer. They would have been crazy not to. Call me crazy. I declined, but not before I thought about it. A lot.

Why did I turn down my mom's offer?  My startle response. I was afraid Cher would see me holding my ears (and singing at the top of my lungs clad in the new concert tee-shirt that I had just purchased. The new shirt was worn over a previous concert tour shirt. I was a vision.) because of how loud the concert was, or that she would notice me startle. I did not want her to see me and think I was not enjoying myself. I did not want her to think I was a mental case who'd been given a pass for the evening.to attend the concert, but had to be back on lockdown by midnight or else she would turn into a pumpkin. 

My mom asked, "Why do you care what Cher would think?" My mom just wanted to give me the chance to see Cher up close. Not just on the big jumbotron screens. I did care. I did not want to look foolish. I was an idiot.

 

A friend and his band are going to rock out at a local cafe this afternoon. It's the band's first gig in two years. It's their first-afternoon gig. I wanted to go. They play loud hard rock. I thought about how I could lessen some of the noise. The only thing I came up with was headphones or earmuffs. The earmuffs would be sequined, of course, but still. No diehard rocker chick would be caught dead wearing anything with sequins. They would not want to miss one note of the rockfest.

Fear is a major factor as well. Fear of embarrassing myself or my friends. Fear of being laughed at. Fear of strangers asking themselves, "What is her Problem?"

I have been blessed with CP. I have been cursed with CP.

Have an awesome show.

Rock on.

Check this out:

Gene Simmons and Cher. She is the fan caller.