Making the decision to write a blog is like singing karaoke. Once you open your mouth, there’s no going back.

I’ve been weighing whether or not to start a blog for months. What would I write about? How often do I have to write? Who’d even want to read it? So while I agonized over it, I did nothing.

Then, recently, I went out for a bridal stag party. The five of us, including the bride, were celebrating her last night out on the town as a single girl. The plan was supper, drinks, karaoke and a male strip club.

It sounded like a fun evening except for the karaoke part. I can’t hold a note unless it’s from my doctor. The extent of my singing career was the choir in elementary school. Since then, I lip sync the national anthem at sports games and enthusiastically whisper the words to “Happy Birthday” at parties.

So after a delicious supper, cocktails, Tiramisu and coffee, it was time to head to the karaoke club.  It was located in an office/shopping mall in the downtown area. I followed the bride down the dark, narrow stairwell to the basement level. A wall of tiny mirrored tiles reminiscent of the 1970s announced that we had arrived. Then we stepped into the reception area that was basically the inside of a disco ball.  After checking out the cost with the Asian hostess, we figured we’d only be an hour, and then leave for the strip club.

The room was furnished with a plump red L-shaped sofa, a huge monitor on one wall and a control panel that looked like a prop from the original Star Trek series. My friends eagerly lined up their choices on the control panel. Then, we solemnly promised each other that nothing would appear on Facebook.

My friends jumped right into it with a Chinese love song. Their voices rose fearlessly above the music blasting from the speakers. I told myself that it was okay to sit on the sidelines. I can’t speak, never mind sing in Chinese, but their enthusiasm was infectious. After watching them belt out a few songs, I decided to throw aside my inhibitions. If I can’t sing inside a soundproof room with my close friends, then where can I?

And, there’s only one way to sing karaoke: loud!

We told that guy to “Call Me, Maybe,” screamed “Baby, Baby, Baby, Ohh!” and danced Gangnam Style. We totally forgot about the strip club. We were having a blast.

There’s nothing like friends who’ll forgive you for murdering a song. While I still sing like a complaining cat, karaoke taught me not to hold back. Sitting on the sidelines means missing out on the fun. So I’m jumping into this blog with both feet and all fingers on the keyboard.

Lucky for you, I’m typing, not singing.