Twisted Family Antics

 . . . the less likely it’s real.

I recently read a Vanity Fair article on Doris Day.  She’s so cute & perky, rich and famous, most would imagine her life’s been marvelous. 

According to the author, David Kaufman, today Doris wishes to speak only about pets & animal rights, never about her movie career. 

He actually documents her bursting into tears with a female reporter who wanted to focus on the past.  Doris yelled, “You don’t get it, do you?”  And then she said all she’d ever wanted was a man who truly loved her, a baby and the happiness that could potentially come from such.

Wow.

Her son was raised by her mother while Doris worked.  The son recently died and Doris did not attend the memorial service or the funeral.  I think she was just too devastated.

She’s been widowed and divorced, both.  Divorced more than once.  Her money was mishandled and more than 20 million lost.

While filming, she and Rock Hudson used to pretend they were partners on a bowling team. 

I knew I had it good, but I didn’t fully appreciate that my life was the stuff dreams are made of!

On top of all the rest, the article mentioned the fact that not a single one of the famous actors she appeared in movies with had their original name, nor did she.  It’s as basic as this: They were told that even their names weren’t good enough. 

The camouflage of perfection was complete. 

And I think this public relations nightmare, the attempt to hide the dirty details, relates in many ways to our own neighbors, friends and acquaintances.  Due to a great PR job, a chick can look like she stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad when internally she’s really just barely holding it together.

I need to remember this fact when I’m wearing my oldest sweat pants, have a baked bean stain on my t-shirt, and see a hot mom traipse past me wearing wedge peek-toe heels in the grocery store.  Rather than think about the fact that I look like shit it’s so much more fun to speak up and say, “Wow, I love your outfit!  You look great.”

I don’t think women get a lot of compliments from other women, and it’s sad because so many could shine with just a little bit more support.  I try to do my part.  Sitting in traffic the other day a woman was obsessively checking herself in a mirror.  I gave her the thumbs-up sign.  It was great.

We all think we want what we don’t have, instead of appreciating the things that are ours.  Poor Doris, fantasizing about being on a bowling league.

I swear, last year I watched a guy wearing no underwear scratch the crack of his own ass, then give my husband a high five.

I’m so lucky I can fall asleep at night holding my husband’s hairy balls, my saggy pendulous boobs against his back.  He gives out a little snoring snort and that’s my heaven.

Thank God for the few things that are real in this lifetime.