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Up until last night, the phrase “being tongue-tied” was just an expression I had heard and even used from time to time to describe myself and others when, at some crucial moment, we were unable to come up with the right thing to say in a given situation.

As of last night, I can report that I have physically experienced an actual tongue-tying, and let me tell you, this is not a pleasant experience.

So, no shit, there I was* smack-dab in the middle of our final dress rehearsal for the Broadway Revue I am in. I was on stage for my first act solo, “Mein Herr” and things were going pretty well. I was mid-way through the song, when I felt a hair insert itself into in my mouth. Now, for people with long hair who wear it down fairly regularly, this is not an abnormal occurrence. You simply push the offending hair out of the way and continue on your merry way. However, in my case, at present the hair is synthetic. It looks great, but it doesn’t really behave like real hair, and the texture is much coarser than that of my own hair. And my mouth is much softer than usual, because of the cell turnover caused by chemo. And in a perfect storm, as I pulled at the hair, which was still attached firmly to the wig, and continued to sing and move across stage, I realized with growing incredulity that it was not only not brushing casually out of the way, it was …curling around my tongue. I can only surmise this happened because of some strange reaction between the texture of the wig, the texture of my mouth, and the movement of my tongue while I was singing… all I know is, there I was, in the middle of a number, tongue-tied by a synthetic hair.

I kid. You. Not. That hair wound itself around my tongue like a python. It grew tighter and tighter, to the point of being acutely uncomfortable (even more uncomfortable than the feeling of having a normal, casual, everyday garden-variety hair in your mouth, which as far as I am concerned ranks right up there with fingernails on the blackboard as a nasty sensual experience). But – you know, I’m trying to do a good job here, and the show must go on, so I kept on singing and trying to get it off, and it just kept on rolling around my tongue tighter and tighter. Finally, in desperation, I snapped the thing off mid – way between the wig and my face, and spent the rest of the song trying simultaneously to hold the microphone, move around convincingly, sing and extricate my tongue from bondage. I have no doubt that the few folks in the audience (which included the mayor, of all people) thought I was trying for a whole new level of lewd. It must have looked really bizarre, all those tongue-thrustings and oral gymnastics in between words.

In the end, I heroically completed my quest, finishing the song and rescuing the tongue – but it was nowhere near as romantic as an Arthurian knight’s rescuing a damsel in distress, I have to say.

Still – if that is the worst thing that happens to me during the run of the show, I’m getting off easy! *Runs off to find something wooden to knock on*.

Maybe here, Megan Fox is also experiencing a hairy tongue-tied moment....? (Image from Buzznet)

*kudos as always to the Art Tzar for this snazzy intro to a story.