Sushi Zume Tokyo

The following is not written as a pity party post but as an account of self healing during the month of Radical Self Love.

I had a really odd past memory come up last night as I was falling asleep. Thoughts of how self conscious and shy I was as a child came flooding in. And then I remembered the biggest kicker, the memory that haunted me until I was in my final year of high school (yes until I was 16 years old, it obviously got buried around about then) – I wanted to be Sandy.

In grade 7, my final year of primary school the teachers wanted to put on an end of year concert. It was a showcase of coolness decade by decade. I remember the whole grade had a meeting and the teachers asked for character nominations. They were looking for rock n roll dancers, back up dancers, singers, ghost busters, french electro stars (which in hind sight I should have jumped at) and the cast of Grease – you know, the usual.

Grease, the movie, had taken up a very deep place in my heart since the first time I watched it when I was in Grade 2 and cried over Sandy seeing Danny’s reflection in the pool. As a six year old I was hopelessly devoted and already sucked in by the emotional baggage of made up characters portraying mainstream make believe.

I held off raising my hand in the school concert selection process, waiting for the Grease names to start being called. They were doing a Grease medley. I was swirling with anticipation and already saw myself in red heels, leather jacket and painted on black tights with my hand on the shoulder of the leading man. I was eleven. I had played the part a million times before in the privacy of my own front yard, knew all the moves, the lines, the lyrics.

Images in my mind started to crumble around me when I realized I wasn’t a singer or a dancer. I wasn’t known for my outgoing personality, I wasn’t the pretty girl and in all honesty I couldn’t see myself pulling off such a “major role” in front off the whole school community.

Thinking about it now, that moment was a major event in my connection to self worth, the future of my self confidence and faith in myself.

I never put my hand up for Sandy. I sat frozen and far too deep in fear of rejection. I watched as the pretty dancer/singer with blond hair lapped up the role and the attention. I got put in a group of back up dancers because I hadn’t raised my hand for any part. I cried myself to sleep so many times over it, I reinvented the scene in my head where I stood up confidently to be Sandy and stunned every one with how perfect I was for the role.

Dramatic? You bet. I kept it all inside. Again, I was eleven.

What was it that plagued me so furiously and at such great lengths about such a seemingly insignificant event?

This event was obviously a reflection of something much greater going on inside. I think it was my lack of self faith that ate away at me. Stunting my happiness because of a fear of what others would think or say. Not standing up for myself. Not allowing myself to be heard. Bottling it all up. Not communicating my desires. Self torment at it’s finest.

I had long forgotten about that time until last night. I fell asleep thinking about the little girl that I was and I woke up this morning in a grumpy mood, completely unrelated to the old thoughts as again I had forgotten about them at a conscious level.

I grumbled around all morning, feeling like I was in the scene from The Secret where the people start off the day negatively and things go from bad to worse. I have a bazillion techniques to stop the downward spiral but I was so grouchy, in my typically withdrawn and silent kind of way, I was standing back with my hands in the air caving into to my egos strength.

I turned up to my Sassy Girly dance class 1 hour and 10 minutes late. I stepped inside, the ladies led by Kike had gone through all the choreography already. The lights went down, the tunes went up, I took my place in the line, looked forward into the mirror and felt an instant sense of strength wash over me. I stepped through the paces without the usual self correction or second guessing my appearance. I felt on fire, I wasn’t even bummed that I had missed most of the class, I felt in control, in flow and sassy.

After class some TV producers came to question and film Kana and I in preparation for the shooting on Monday. I went through the motions and felt confident doing so. After wards I talked to Kike about an upcoming job in a super swanky club. I will hoop but I am also expected to entertain throughout the night. He said they want gorgeous, sparkling women to shine. I felt myself slip into old thought mode, not unlike the thoughts I had in the 7th grade. He mentioned a meeting with the party organizer, I am to wear something gorgeous – stilettos, slinky jeans, something luscious and lady like, and this is just for the meeting. Not trashy but hot. I felt my inner self cringe a little, ok a lot. My perception of myself does not match what they are looking for. Sucking it up and bottling it in, I have learned to say yes to everything (legitimate and professional that is).

I began thinking about what a gorgeous outfit looks like, how I would wear it, what colors and fabrics it would include. And then it hit me. It is never too late to be Sandy. So tomorrow I shop!