I posted a picture of myself in the margin of the blog Wednesday. I don’t like pictures of myself. I never have. They just don’t seem to look like how I think I look, which cannot be the case but still they make me blanch.
But last week when I posted my party pic a few folks referred to me as elusive and mysterious. I wasn’t being coy; I wasn’t hiding. It’s just not about me. I’m a middle-aged, medium height, middle income wife and mother of three living in middle America. I didn’t go to design school, am not a designer or a design historian.
I’m curious. I’m interested, but not interesting. Men talk around me at dinner parties all the time. Or ask, “How are the boys?” Fairly indistinguishable, there are thousands of women just like me everywhere. There are a dozen in your building or neighborhood. Still, after the comments I thought maybe it’s odd to hear the voice but not see the speaker.
I was 4’10” in eighth grade. Paul Steiner deemed me president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Right before my freshman year I received a tragic Dorothy Hamill haircut. The only date I had in high school was to my senior prom and that was with a friend. You are welcome to comment away on how I look, but believe me, I’ve heard it all before.