My laugh is loud. It can be really loud.
My wife likes to tease me on how loud my laugh can get. She once claimed that it starts out as a giggle and builds to a volcanic eruption. I’m not sure I completely agree, but there’s no denying that it’s what some might call a hearty, infectious laugh. I’m sure some others might even call it annoying.
We all have our idiosyncrasies. Some people have pointy noses. Others have off-center smiles. I have three things that stick out from a purely superficial standpoint: I have a dimple on the side of my cheek that appears out of nowhere when I smile. I have a double jointed thumb. Yea, don’t ask, it’s good for stupid party tricks and that’s about it. And I have a laugh that comes out natural and free and reverberates around the room.
Two of my former coworkers used to joke that they loved working with me because they could always tell where I was in the building and it cheered-up the rest of the building. My response: I’m really that loud?
I used to hate my laugh — the way some young girls obsessed with the perfect body, complain about their looks — but I’ve come to love it because it shows that no matter how crazy life can get, I’m still trying to see the positive and the humor in even the craziest of situations.
For example, when I went to the dentist recently to check on a toothache, I couldn’t help laughing when the hygienist asked about my pain threshold. I commented that I normally have a pretty high threshold except when “man-flu” takes over and then I’m as wimpy as they come.
The dentist broke out laughing and I naturally let out a laugh of my own. The rest of the appointment continued along those lines. When I walked out of the office, I saw the faces of the other patients and most looked pretty down, I’m sure fearful of going to the dentist. Yea, my laugh was probably out of place, but isn’t it best to see the good in things, to see the humor in even the toughest of situations. I hope so anyway.
Ha, ha, I’ll laugh to that!