Why is it that the expectations and reality of a situation are only shared mere moments before the point of no-return?
I was only given these nitty-gritty details of wearing a palate expander during the fitting of the device:
So in order not to sound like Darth Vader on steroids, and to prevent my throat from aching through desperately trying to breathe and swallow saliva, and gulping in so much air that my stomach hurt, I should read aloud to myself? (I know now why they only tell you this at the last minute - if they got down to the brass tacks too far ahead of time, no-one would go ahead and do it). The natural inclination with this obstruction in my mouth is not to talk, since it is difficult, tiring and embarrassing.
Instead of reading aloud, I decided to cash in on my previous Speech and Drama training, and began reciting poems out loud to myself, since I could easily do this whilst busy cooking or doing other chores.
I think Dale is about to commit me to an institution, after hearing that "The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard," followed later by "the vorpal blade went snicker-snack!" Such violence - I think it reflects my pent-up frustration!
Note: if you look closely, you can see that my school merit award was for Best MALE actress, a role I specialized in at my all-girls school. No flighty, delicate roles for me - I was commanding and imposing as a man, and loved feeling free to convey a confidence I never really had!