Dolly Parton is one of my favorite women, she is cute, funny, and so down to earth. Recently she tweeted the following on her Twitter account:
“I hope people realize that there is a brain underneath the hair and a heart underneath the boobs.”
That got me thinking about what people see when they look at me lately. What is it they think they know about me from what they see on my Facebook, Twitter, and blogs? Do they just see the outside shell or can they SEE below the surface?
I know many probably think my mental choo-choo has totally derailed of late, especially my kids, and I guess I cannot blame them. Their mother, who used to be a bible thumping, long jumper wearing, involved up to her eyeballs church lady, is running around with a butch looking hair style and dying her bangs pink at 47 years old. They watched their parents go from chairman of the deacon board and teaching youth in a Reformed Baptist church to riding a Harley and hanging out with their ‘new’ friends at clubs. And then, when their mom and dad’s marriage appeared to be better than it ever was, their dad suddenly wanted a divorce, wasn’t willing to try to work things out, leaving their mother’s heart shattered into tiny fragments while dear old dad is ‘just friends’ with a woman young enough to be his daughter that happens to be divorcing herself.
On The Surface
My boobs..yes they are um, well large now. I come from a line of women that have some booty on them (read big butts). The boobie fairy skipped over us but the bun fairy blessed us in abundance. Maybe she was feeling bad that her winged sister bypassed us so she waved her magic wand over us all twice (seriously, stop trying to do us favors and just send our fairy godmothers as those wenches haven’t been seen anywhere in a very long time). Along with the boobs I had a tummy tuck, as having kids had made a mess of my abdomen. It was something I did, for me, that I am very pleased with and now my top half balances the bottom half.
My head is covered in blond hair with a spray of bright pink in it. The ex hubby disliked the spikey hair do and could not stand the pink in the bangs so I only did the dye one time while married. My daughter is not overly fond of the color either, and my son…well I think he just accepts his mother will never be ‘normal’ but she has fun and he sees enough pain and stupidity in the world through his job so he figures I am harmless.
Looking Beneath The Surface
Under the highlights and the pink there is a brain. I’m blond naturally but I am NOT stupid. In fact I am pretty damn smart. I held a 4.0 gpa for 2 years of night college, and when I left had a 3.75, so I am far from dumb. I am wise enough not to get suckered into ocean front property in the desert, and not naive enough to fall for “just friends” when the friend’s car is hidden in our garage so no one knows she is there. As the saying goes, believing bullshit doesn’t make it true. While I may not always make the wisest of decisions, it isn’t due to a lack of gray matter in my head. You can keep telling me it is night time a million different ways, but if the sun is shining brightly (and we don’t live in Alaska), I’m not buying it. Yes, I am a bit confused lately and no doubt I am acting like it, but my world got turned up on end 6 months ago and I don’t have it all quite back in line yet so deal with it.
Don’t let the big boobs fool you either, underneath the silicone twins is a heart. That heart is loyal to a fault when it loves someone. It is big enough to care for a whole lot of people and is learning to love the person in mirror for who she is and not who others think she should be. Right now that heart that was shattered is in more pieces than you could count and it is a pain beyond words. Suffice to say there are times still that it just flat out hurts to breathe and I wonder if there will ever come a day when I will be able to get the pieces glued back together into something that remotely resembles what it was before it was dropped. Meanwhile, sometimes those splintered remains override the brain’s attempts to think rationally and I have a melt down. I think after 22 years of loving someone with every fiber of my being, no matter how imperfectly by their standards, I am entitled to those moments of temporary insanity.
Most of the time I am level headed, and over all I am happy and enjoying life. But it takes longer than 6 months to get over a lost love that lasted 22 years, and a broken heart that still deeply loves the person that broke it. So dear son, daughter, and friends, when you see the crazy hair and the lapses of reason, crazy venting text messages, keep in mind that beneath it all there is a brain and a heart just trying to sort through the debris and don’t judge me too harshly.