Have you ever been standing in front of people trying to act natural? All eyes are on you, or so you think, and you cannot find a natural standing position. Your eyes are shifty, you can’t decide if you should breath through your nose, which has become noisier than you remember, or breath through your mouth, which creates a new set of problems. Not wanting to distract people with your deviated septum, you lick your lips a little and part them just enough to let a little air through. There aren’t many things less attractive than an unconcious mouth breather, so you keep your little sliver of air space barely noticeable. Almost immediately you begin feeling lightheaded and weak and realize that you’re not getting enough oxygen so you open your mouth a bit more until you find a balance between a certian level of inconspicuous mouth breathing and a reasonable ration of oxygen that keeps you from passing out.
Once you get the breathing thing figured out, then you start to worry about your posture. Shoulders back…no, down. Or down and back. Standing up straight is tiring, does it even look natural or do you look like you’re trying too hard? Suddenly your hands feel oddly heavy as they dangle down there on the ends of your arms with all the blood rushing in to them, pulling them closer and closer to your knees. Why have you never noticed how ape-ishly long your arms are? My gosh, what do you do with your fingers? Do you straighten them? You steal a quick glance down at your abnormally rigid hands and quickly release them before anyone else notices your robot stance. You try to place them elegantly on your thighs and feeling a bit too pageanty, you try a fist, no, too nervous looking. Palms out, too messianic. Arms against sides, too stiff. Arms elevating, what are you, a marionette? You look around the room trying to mimic what other people are doing, but can’t quite find a fit.
You scan the other faces to see if anyone notices your bizarre behavior. The results are inconclusive. You only meet a few pair of eyes that shifted toward yours after you were looking for them. You jerk your eyes to the floor, then over to the side and slowly you risk looking around again. There are the eyes again. You nonchalantly glance toward the ceiling, pretending to not notice. Like a magnet on your way back down, you lock in on the eyes again. Are they staring at you? That’s so awkward. Now everytime you look around you have to avoid looking in that direction. Only to let curiosity get the best of you and you check to see if they’re still staring. They’re not, but as soon as you look over they look up. Oh, my gosh. Now’re you’re the one with the staring problem.
….. waiting bites.