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My mother often laments how I am such a LOUD girl. When we’re on the phone, she typically asks me to turn down my volume. Or better yet, speak about a foot away from the mouthpiece. She’s perplexed how such a small person (I stand 4 feet 11 and 3/4 inches) could emit such a big, booming sound. Especially for an Asian daughter, it’s considered unbecoming and uncouth.
Despite my mother’s admonishment, I find myself having to use this Loud Voice often. I’m often shouting across a playground, a mall, sometimes an entire city block. I do so to halt my eloping child from bolting towards the street, completely unaware of oncoming traffic. He has a tendency to walk far enough ahead of us–oblivious that the rest of us are far behind—to afford a child abductor a gloriously uncontested opportunity. At other times, it’s as innocuous as stopping him from swiping french fries off another diner’s plate.
Husband - Feet - Presence - Loud - Voice
Sometimes, my husband (who at six feet is also a booming presence) is doing The Loud Voice. Nevertheless, I often have to chime in. His baritone merely gets absorbed into the mass of people, muffled and unnoticed, as if he’s yelling into a pillow. But my soprano-shriek is much more effective at piercing through a crowd and turning stunned heads. Luckily, my face is as thick as my voice is shrill. My Loud Voice could slice through ocean to let me...
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