As I've mentioned before, I tend to sing a lot. I love music, teach at a local music school on the weekends and am happy to warble away the hours.
I also sing while cycling sometimes but last night my two loves clashed horribly. I'm singing at a friend's wedding in a week and a half (eek) and was rehearsing with the pianist last night. He's Yorkshire and was a little taken aback by the shorts. I was wearing my lycra ones (still sooooo comfy) and a shapeless black t-shirt. I protested that they were the longest out of my lycra shorts and he raised an eyebrow.
We got down to business setting up a song list for the wedding, rehearsing various endings, scrapping songs I hadn't got a hold on, checking chord charts etc, but something was wrong. I couldn't get into good voice and apart from the classic 'Cry me a river' (NOT Justin Timberlake) I couldn't get into the mood.
Then I realised: my inner diva was repelled by my lycra. She was shreaking in agony everytime I looked in the mirror at my unkempt hair and shiny brow. She longed for shaved legs and an effort to be made with my appearance. How, she asked, could she project sex appeal in shiny, black, look-like-they've-been-spraypainted-on shorts and a damp and salty t-shirt?!??!?!?!
I think I may have to bring a change of clothes to next week's jam.