If Oprah asks me a question, today, I just hope I don't do that verbal diarrhea thing I always do

If Oprah asks me a question, today, I just hope I don't do that verbal diarrhea thing I always do

Today, I wil be sitting next to Oprah, praying I don’t do that verbal diarrhea thing I tend to do all the time.

Very briefly: Because I have “Single Mom” in my blog title, I got invited to go with a friend to an Oprah taping of her Life Class Series. Something about…single moms.   okaycool.

Then I got a call from a producer who asked if I wanted to sit in the semi-circle closest to Oprah, and if so, “Are you okay with being asked questions? Because Oprah might ask you questions. Are you comfortable with that? With talking?”



Most of you don’t know me personally. Those of you who do know me know I can be, well…..verbose.

Let me put it this way: I had a band one time called, “Virago,” which means, “A loud, overbearing woman.” (PS: Best band name ever)

Let me put it another way: If I met me at a party, I would NOT like me.

Ugh…that one. Over there. With the stories and the hand gestures and the messy hair. Fuggin’ drama queen, that one. Um, okayyyy.  We see you, sister. We all see you, girl-with-freakishly-small-hands-and-feet. Don’t gotta telegraph your damn story to the furthest reaches of the earth. Yeesh. Calm down, woman.

Let’s just say I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. For example: If you are bothered by stories that go from point A to B to M to 7-11 back to LMNO…. wait whaaaaaa,’ then I might not be your first choice to have with you on a deserted island.

And as a virago, sometimes I say all the words in my head. All of them. To everyone. To customer service representatives. To bank tellers.  To people in pants.  #nofilter

And now, possibly, to Oprah. (Perhaps even right now, as you are reading this.)

Well, they have editors, right?  I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.

It will be what it will be, right?  I’ll do my best. For today, if all goes as planned, I will have brushed my hair, resisted the temptation to dress like a suburban housewife on a TV show in the 80’s (a weird thing I do when I’m going somewhere that makes me nervous), and will have coached myself into lightly editing  “all the words” when/if Oprah asks me questions.

That’s the plan. I’ll let you know how it goes.

(The only way things won’t be fine is if Ms. Winfrey remembers the last time our paths crossed.  But I’ll save that story for another day…)

Thanks so much for reading my silly words. It means the world. Carry on….

Old Single Mom

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