I forgot to be grateful about my very blessed life and then a woman who used to be fat but isn’t any more reminded me to be

There
I was, sweating my bollocks off in a room that was so hot it was like Lucifer
himself was breathing fire up my arse. The windows were closed because of
traffic noise outside, and the lights of our makeshift studio blasted the kind
of heat that causes beads of salty moisture to dance jester on upper lips, the
backs of knees to grubby and moisten.

I
repeated my question a fifth time, trying to look encouraging as the doctor
responded on script. Smiling. Sweating. Smiling.

It’s
a project I’d been working on for weeks. A client at work needed video content
on their website and I, because of my big fat fucking mouth, was heading up the
production.

I
don’t know- I guess I’d just started at my new job and was trying to make an
impression because that’s what I do. Make An Impression. The Laura Show. When I
bore witness to a conversation about those
videos really need to get done, and we’ve
asked Bob to think about sorting it out and Cheryl knows somebody with a video camera, I found myself saying,
“I’ll do it.” 

You
know, what with all of my video production experience and all.

So
days passed on the relay baton to weeks, and I spent minutes and hours writing
a brief, amending a brief, getting a brief approved. Budgeting. I used common
sense and asked questions; scheduled; begged, stole, and borrowed the time of
other people far more adept at these things than I.

I
spent so long on the phone that I’ve gone all Van Gogh- only my right ear has
feeling anymore.

And
so, I’m just going to go right on ahead and say it: for most of the process, I
was a whiny little bitch. Because, in my imagination, I didn’t sign up to
produce testimonial videos for websites. That is supposed to be somebody else’s
life, somebody else’s job. In my imagination, any second not spent making
pretty sentences for websites and blogs and journals and newspapers is wasted,
because I Am A Writer.

I’ll
give away the ending to this story: my attitude? It stank. And also let’s not
overlook the fact that I technically did sign
up to produce testimonial videos for websites because, urm, I volunteered for
the project, so, yeah. NICE LOGIC, LJW.

More
than anything I was probably just frustrated at myself, guys. It was really
hard work and sometimes jobs are for Tweeting from and sometimes they're for
developing your skill set from and I guess I just felt more like telling you
what I had for lunch and what book I was reading because: laziness.

By
Monday morning, as I got up super early to stretch and meditate and breathe in
my special scented candle, I ended up talking to myself in the mirror. Just one more day, Laura. Get through today
and then you can go back to your words.

Then
the videographer text: So sorry- booked a
cab last night but have just been called to say it’s twenty minutes late. I’m
in another taxi now so will be with you as soon as I can!

I
checked the time. Six weeks of planning and we’d start behind schedule.

The
morning passed in a hot, background-noise riddled frustration as I settled into
my role, asking and guiding and prompting and approving outwardly, clock
watching and making promises to myself that involved buttered popcorn and
Dawson’s Creek inwardly.

And
then came Mary.

Mary
lost 70lbs last year to become a trim size 14, changing her life by altering
her appearance because under the extra layers of warmth she carried for years
and never could quite shift was a line-dancing, dolphin-diving, sleeveless-top-wearing
badass chick.

She
agreed to go on camera to talk about her experience, like the client needed, not
because she was comfortable doing it- she wasn’t- but because the service she
used to rediscover herself genuinely changed her life. Mary and I had never
met, but from the calls we’d exchanged I knew her story, her journey, and I was
genuinely looking forward to meeting her.

She
was so charming, and so excited to be on the shoot, that suddenly, without
warning, I saw myself through her wide, intimidated eyes as she took in the
room. Young twentysomething PR in
London Town, red lipstick and black dress, making videos and writing scripts
and directing cameras and telling everyone what to do, with confidence.

Mary
lapped up every moment of an experience I was only trying to endure, and her
humility, her way, it made me realise that wow-
I need to remember to be a lot more grateful about what I do.

It’s easy
to pull out the diva card, sometimes. It’s easy to forget how far you’ve come.

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