The Three Questions I Can't Shake From My Head

Ask me anything, except these three things apparently.
Publish date:
June 29, 2011
babies, hair extensions, feelings, swingers, questions, ego, paranoia, M

I like to think I’m really hard to offend, that I’m all jaded and have seen/done it all and whatever you’re going to say to me is going to roll right off my back. Have a question? Bring it on, I’m an open book. Let’s conversate.

Like most of my self-beliefs, this does not reflect reality. Recently, I realized I’m hanging on to three questions that for whatever reason hurt my feelings over the last few months. Or more accurately, gave me an exaggerated case of the well-I-nevers.

Before I lay them out and discuss, I’d like to tack up a little disclaimer: While I cannot assume that anyone other than my mother-in-law, husband’s therapist and an assortment cousins by blood and marriage are reading these things I barf out over here, if you recognize yourself as the asker of one of these questions, you are lovely people and my reactions to these inquiries have zero to do with the harmless intent of the posed questions. My ego-driven madness is the culprit. Ready?

1. Are you guys monogamous?

WHAT?? OK, I know this is not the craziest question that a person can ask, but it caught me off guard and made me paranoid. It bummed me out because for many years I thought people’s misconceptions of me made me more interesting (maybe they did, maybe they still do), and these former fuzzy dishonesties are the opposite of what I’m about now.

For example, I authentically want people to understand I am not casually dating my husband. To be fair, a sweet friend who really needed some feedback from a lady in a committed, monogamous relationship posed the question and she was sincerely just checking before she opened up. I COMPLETELY respect this.

Even if I wanted to slide under the table, army-crawl out of the restaurant and text “y? what did u hear?” from behind a newspaper box on the sidewalk. Though I would never actually text letters in place of words.

2. Does Mike have kids?

I don’t even know if I’ll be able to explain properly why this one hit me in a bizarre way.

He doesn’t have kids. I think I like to pretend we are 23 year-old churchweds entering adult life together and anticipating all these “firsts” like having a baby and filing bankruptcy or whatever people do when they get married.

We WILL have plenty of firsts, if we so choose, but we are at ages that folks actually stop and ask “Does he have kids?” because for all some of these innocents-I’m–exposing-on-the-Internet know, we could have been previously married five times and have 8 babies between us.

The bigger truth is I see myself as a first and only type, be it a wife or baby-mama scenario. And I expect everyone else to see this in me as well. Like the Stephen Bishop song from Tootsie, he’s “been saving love songs and luuuullabies” for me and me only. Respect.

3. Are those extensions?

I have to say, I’ve heard this a few times now and it’s starting to lose its discomfort value, but only slightly.

This might be a more mainstream inquiry in general these days since extensions are common and growing your hair out takes forever and is boring.

I immediately take offense recalling the lone girl at my high school to have extensions in 1990. Not exactly a platinum highlight in the history of horsehair. But, as I have to be constantly reminded, IT’S NOT 1990. So perhaps it’s a compliment to accuse me to of having beautiful, long luxurious hair that especially when flat-ironed looks too good to be real.

However, being a person who hates putting effort into something or following through with anything, I want 1000% credit for growing every inch of this hair out of my head. Even if I mainly wore it back or up for two years and shouldn’t be surprised or prickly when peeps wonder where the hell this waist-grazing mop came from.

My hair and breasts are real and mine and not because I paid for them, but that’s always a good hack line. So there you go. Selfishness, paranoia, megalomania, all the good things in life.

What are your well-I-never questions?