LGBT+

Practicing

I practice sometimes, when I'm alone.

After school and before either of my parents get home, I like to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, door wide open. I stand in what my dad calls a "powerful" posture: shoulders back, chest out, chin up. That's how he stands when he speaks at his business meetings. "When you stand in front of them like that, everyone knows you have something important to say," my dad once told me.
So I stand like that in front of the mirror when I practice. Because hell yeah what I have to say is important.

I take a deep breath and I let it out slowly, just like mom always taught me to do when I'm nervous. "When I first started speaking to large crowds for my job, I always found that taking a deep, slow breath helped calm my nerves," she once told me. "If you ever need to speak for something important, just take a breath, and then say what you have to say."
So I take deep breaths in front of the mirror when I practice. Because hell yeah I'm nervous.

And then I say it. Because if there's one thing my parents have taught me about speaking, it's to keep it short, sweet and to the point. "Don't beat around the bush," I've heard countless times from both of them. "Make your points, then leave. If you waste time instead of saying what you need to, then no one will ever listen to you."
So I stand in front of the mirror and I say it.
"I'm gay."
I smile, then I say it again.
"I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. There, I kept it short. Now you can go back to caring about nothing but your stupid careers."

Well, I probably won't say that last part in real life. Hell, I probably won't ever say any of it in real life. I can imagine myself practicing in front of the mirror until I'm sixty, and then maybe having the balls to say it to their graves one day, with my husband at my side.
Or who knows? Maybe I will be able to tell them face to face one day. I could pull them aside during one of the few times when neither of them are at work or on the phone with work, and I'd tell them. I'd do it just like I practiced, and then maybe they'd have something to say to me other than public speaking advice.
Maybe.

But for now, I practice. Over. And over. And over. And maybe one day, I'll be ready.