Thursday, June 14, 2012

I shit you not - - it made me blush.

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine the other day and somehow we ended up talking about what makes us happy in life (you know, other than the obvious things like our spouses and children). My friend was so exuberant in their passion for art (a fairly traditional "artist" if you will with the painting and the drawing and whatnot). It was infectious and contagious. So I started talking about my writing and poetry and how it made me feel and my hopes and wants and...then they were just staring at me...and then it happened.  I BLUSHED!

If you know me, you know that I cuss like a foul mouthed trucker, have no qualms about a good and perverted joke, and am generally a crass person. But apparently when speaking about my poetry and writing I turn all soft and gooey, and this "softer side" of me is shocking to folks. Seeing this amazement register so plainly on a person's face because they figured out that I have emotions MADE ME BLUSH!

Please keep in mind:
  • I have given birth and an audience of folks crowded around my nether-regions didn't make me blush.
  • On my wedding day, the minister forget my name during the exchange of our wedding vows - in front of God and everyone - and there was no blushing.
  • Awkward conversation with a former governor of Nebraska about the merits of walking in parades and chopping wood? Nary a crimson cheek to be found.
  • When I was 8 years old a bank teller looked at my Mother and said, "here's a Dum-Dum for your son, ma'am." - - Yep, I'm most definitely female and I only remember being happy to get a free sucker. This event simply resulted in a red tongue, not red cheeks.
  • Was definitely busted singing and dancing by my husband and his manly friends as we were painting our house. (If they had been listening to "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson - they would have been dancing, too.) Still didn't blush.
However, when a friend figured out that I have feelings, think about romance, and am generally in love with love? Beet red all over and flames up to the tips of my ears. I shit you not - - I blushed.

What is the moral of this story, you ask? Well, I am not entirely sure. It might have something to do with being comfortable in my own skin. Or possibly not letting folks make me second guess my hopes and dreams. It could even be something as cliche as "don't judge a book by its cover". Whenever I figure it out, hopefully it doesn't make me blush. Cripes...

Even Transformers feel sympathy embarrassment for me...d'oh.

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