… airbrushing my memories … glamour-ing …

Last night I finished my holiday weekend binge-watch of the latest season of “True Blood“. It has been almost two years since last I checked in with the HBO version of Bon Temps, during which time I read the final of Charlaine Harris’ novels about empath/telepath Sookie Stackhouse and all the varieties of supes with which she dealt along the way on which the series was originally based. The book and HBO series are each quite unique and entertaining in their own ways; related but created from very different sensibilities.

Perhaps it is my cold (I know, I know, I promise to shut up about this soon – as soon as I stop going through a box of tissues each day) and the sort of fugue-ish funk into which being slightly ill has put me, but when I went to bed – or, tried to go to sleep in an actual bed as opposed to couch-dozing – I was absolutely obsessed with curiosity about glamouring, and whether I would choose it for myself.

Now, if you’re not a “True Blood” watcher (or reader) let me explain that “glamouring” is what a vampire does to control humans. The vamp gazes deeply into the human target’s eyes and mesmerizes the person, at which point the vamp is able to make the human do anything at all, or, forget anything; whole swaths of life-memory, people, events can be erased. Just. Like. That.

Shortly before I’d headed to bed, I’d done a last Twitter check-in, seeing if anything of interest was going on with the people I follow, and came upon the pic of Cher adorning her new album. In this photo she is blonde, line-free, and looks – maybe – half of her chronological age. All of which prompted me to Tweet:

I cher blondewould kill to get whoever did the new Cher album cover photo/airbrush to whip up a few of me-I’d be such a hit on then

And as I was in bed, reading because I couldn’t sleep (and Tweeting: I always knew I’d spend my yrs of declension alone in bed reading- it’s what i was raised to desire- w/out knowing) and still obsessing on “True Blood” glamouring, I thought, “Hmm, this Cher photo-editing and plastic surgery is another kind of glamouring, me-thinks. What’s the deal with me being so eager to erase parts of me and who I’ve been and the results of the life I have lived?”

What is the deal with that? And what sort of world do I live in that I want to get rid of parts of me? I don’t want to list the people or events I thought I might like to erase, because that’s about me, not them, and, quite honestly, it isn’t anything anyone else has done or has not done, but, rather, the things I want to forget are things I have done – the positions into which I have put myself, the misapplications and mistakes of trust and love, the ways in which I have imagined life to be rather than noticing the ways it actually was, and my proclivities for pretending that everything was okay or would somehow – could somehow – be okay, and my waiting for someone(s) to realize what I thought were there mistakes and mis-behaviors, and, further, wait for them to come to me and explain and make things right.

Which then made me ask myself; who would I be without those events? Would I be happier or sadder? Where might I have ended up without having met certain people? And … on and on this went, until I thought, “Well, okay, so I’ve met them and experienced this – but what if I could look half my age?”

Well, what if I could? How far does this go? What’s the logical conclusion? If I could morph myself – my age, my gender, my whatever – to make myself into the shape, size, age, etc that would be “loved” or “desired” or “appreciated” by people for whom and to whom I was not ideal – not what they wanted in the way I wanted to be wanted –

WELL FUCK IT – I DID THAT. I mean, I didn’t – obviously – change my date of birth by altering time, nor my gender by surgery, or – BUT, I did – time and again – try to make myself into the shape and personality that would get people to love me.

And that, my friends, did not turn out so well. So, no. I’m not thirty. And, no, I’m not rich and famous. And, no, I’m not -never was – and never going to be – the shape or person who was going to win those people I wanted because I was trying to prove to myself I – myself – who had done SO MUCH re-shaping and glamouring of myself – was WORTH ENOUGH for someone else to –

And there we have it – to what? To pretend to be something OTHER than who they were? And that was supposed to be love?

And, so, yes, I have had some rough times: but here’s what I LOVE about me. I don’t BLAME those people who were characters in the rough time. I understood – understand – that the request to re-shape was unreasonable – from me, and, from them. They asked me to be something other than I was – and that I did, that was on me; but that they asked me – that is on them. And they knew what they were doing, too – and even if they didn’t ACTIVELY, CONSCIOUSLY know at the time; just like me, they are responsible for figuring it out.

Like I’m still doing.

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