Sunday, April 13, 2008
Walk Into Walls
I once posed as a battered woman for a newspaper article on domestic abuse. I could do fear and self-loathing so well that nobody even recognized me in the photo. There was a big gap between the happy girl I seemed to be and my secret life. A lot of people have it; artists learn to manipulate it and live there so long that they don't know anything else. Because what we believe to be true of ourselves is so often not. Know a lot of women who say they wouldn't stay around if a man hit them and did and do and find themselves on the end of a fist, hiding bruises, walking into walls. My grandmother was one of these women and her favorite books were romance novels, those gauzy unfoldings of love and sorrow wrapped up in a happy ending.
My friend Melissa used to have a theory that married couples lost their sight as they got older so they could see each other as they were when they were young, that they never saw the reality of time's ravages. I never ever bought this line. But a black eye can change your perspective. Some internal bleeding followed by a honeymoon period where there's nothing but love. I offer you this; I have often been hit, but more by myself than anyone else, and I'm as clever as any garden variety abuser who follows the cardinal rule -- never where you can see it.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"A l lot of films I've done are essentially about women who are finding their voice, women who don't know themselves well." Meg Ryan
Drinking movie suggestion: Ruby In Paradise
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday! Thanks for all the great comments on the post about the girl in Target. I'm sure that everyone who commented about worrying about saying things to their children are excellent parents. I'm just sad about the culture that continues to make women hate their bodies, whatever size and shape. Both the mother and daughter are victims of this bullshit. Like my dear Miss Jodi said, Best to forget about it and share a bottle of wine! Life is short -- enjoy/flaunt/eat.