One Last Shake-A-Roonie (And Other Accidental Truths About Who I Really Am)

(A lesson in seasoning kebabs and self-acceptance)

There I was, alone in my kitchen, marinating steak kebabs with the level of care usually reserved for newborns or wedding centerpieces. I was deep in it—elbow-deep in marinade, flipping skewers with purpose—when the words just tumbled out of my mouth:

“Alright, let’s give her one last shake-a-roonie.”

No audience. No kids. No camera. Just me and a couple pounds of sirloin tips.

And I froze. Because it was such a me thing to say. Not polished. Not curated. Not borrowed from a TikTok trend. Just pure, unfiltered Lindsay.

Weird. Goofy. Possibly cartoonish.

And yet, in that moment, I wasn’t trying to be funny or performative. I wasn’t hamming it up for my kids or trying to charm the neighbors through the open window. I was just…talking to the steak. Like a person who sincerely believes marinade responds better when spoken to directly.

But here’s where it got interesting.

Not five minutes before that, I had been replaying a moment from earlier in the week—one where I had been my usual, expressive, enthusiastic self in public—and then spent the whole car ride home wondering:

Did I come on too strong?

Did I seem like I was trying too hard?

Do people think I’m being extra on purpose?

There’s this slippery slope of self-doubt that starts to feel suspiciously like gaslighting—of myself, by myself.

Maybe I’m not really like that.

Maybe I just want attention.

Maybe I’m exaggerating my personality to be liked.

But you know what’s hard to argue with?

An unplanned shake-a-roonie.

Because no one was watching. No one was validating. No one was judging. And that moment still happened.So maybe I’m not performing.Maybe I’m just a human maraca in yoga pants.

And that realization brought me a kind of peace. A reminder that who we are when no one’s watching is who we are. And if that person happens to narrate their cooking like a Food Network contestant on the verge of elimination—so be it.

So if you’ve ever worried that your spark is too bright, your volume too loud, your quirk too…quirky—take comfort in this:You are who you are, even when you're just seasoning meat.

And if that includes a spontaneous shake-a-roonie?

Own it.

Celebrate it.

Maybe even bottle it—someone out there would definitely pay extra for a marinade with that kind of energy.

---

Snack-sized sentiments, full-sized feelings. Follow @MoveMakerMedia for more everyday chaos and emotional clarity.