Blonde hair? Nope.
Blue eyes? Also no.
Freckles? Not naturally.
But thank you, CoverGirl espresso eyeliner, for helping me draw a few on in the girls’ bathroom between classes. Real subtle.

My Jewish-Lebanese roots offered nothing that teen magazines or after-school specials celebrated at the time. But I was determined to look the part—even if I had no idea what the part actually was.

This is also around the age when we start talking like this…?
You know, like we’re not sure…?
Even though we are…?

It’s when we learn that having the right answer can make other people uncomfortable.
So we downplay.
We soften.
We ask permission with our voices before we even speak.

And little by little, we lose touch.
Not all at once—the voice doesn’t disappear in a dramatic exit.
She slips out quietly, stage left, while we’re too busy managing and carrying everyone else’s comfort.

Until we don’t know how to find her again.
Only that we miss her.
And ourselves.

Fast forward: after graduating from Ithaca College’s Roy H. Park School of Communication, I jumped headfirst into NYC—with a suitcase full of dreams and a heart full of delusion. Acting, auditioning, riding the subway in heels. I had Sandra Bullock’s girl-next-door charm meets Anna-from-Frozen’s overcaffeinated creative energy. Naturally, I wanted to be mysterious and smoldering a´la Charlize Theron meets Jessica Rabbit.

So when I landed an audition at a major modeling agency for a national body wash commercial (you can’t make this up), I went full Jessica. Voice, smolder, the whole shebang. Anna didn’t stand a chance.

When I was done, the casting director asked how I thought it went.
I started to say, “I think it went goo—”
She cut me off.
“It sucked.”

She liked me though. I could tell.

She gave me another chance. I came back. Did slightly better.

But here’s what I know now, twenty-five years later:

People don’t want perfect.
They want present.
They want real.
They want YOU.

The true-blue, one-of-a-kind you.

And the more at home you feel in your own skin, the more your audience will too.

If that hits a nerve—in the best possible way— Present With Presence was made for you. I’d love to have you join me.