- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -You read that right. Coochie, as in vagina. Snorcher, as in snorcher.
One time in college I was in a play. It was a friend who read a poster about auditions for the Vagina Monologues and then dared me to try out. Mostly because, I refuse to leave a good dare unfulfilled.
One sunny San Diego morning I dragged my shy self out to auditions where I sat and waited for my turn. I stood in front of five women who had a passion for the Monologues and women and vaginas. I read my lines in my sweetest of Texas accents. I said, "Thank you for this experience." And I checked the dare off my list of life accomplishments.
One busy Thursday evening, I got a call. A call from one of those five passionate women that said, "You have been cast as our Coochie Snorcher." Short of speech (something I rarely am), I thanked her. We ended the call and I about died.
Two Sunday mornings later I met in a room with 35 women who were making this Vagina Monologues happen. Half were actors (dare I call myself that), the other half stage crew and marketing. I sat amongst the women and wondered, "WHO AM I?"
One February Friday just after Valentine's Day, I took the stage in my black and red. I delivered my monologue about a vagina for ten minutes in front of the man who I had barely just met.
One February Sunday just after Valentine's Day, I celebrated closing night with those 35 women. We hooted and hollered about the three sold out shows, about the thousand plus people who now knew Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues. We patted each other on the back for our bravery and our bravado.
One Saturday in November several years later, I miss that first time I took the stage. Though I was terrified and full of nerves for days leading up to show weekend, the adrenaline you feel as you deliver those lines as you embody a character so not your own as you bow to the applause impressed with your feat is indescribable.
I hadn't done a play before the Coochie Snorcher and I haven't done one since. It's a feather I wear proudly in my cap. It taught me I can do hard things and say hard things and feel hard things all while in the eyes of a crowd.
And some fun for the road. This is one of Jason and I's first pictures together after our closing show. I was on an adrenaline high with all of my family there so the smile is a bit over the top with excitement. Don't we look like babies? And by we, I mean, mostly him.
Want to check out my monologue? You can find it delivered by an extremely talented woman. It's from this video that I memorized my lines and began to understand the emotion behind the piece.