There’s an iconic photo of a blonde bombshell that hangs in my bedroom. You’re probably assuming it’s a photo of Marilyn Monroe in that amazing white halter dress. You would be wrong; this photo is of a different blonde bombshell completely.
The photo in question is of Jayne Mansfield, smiling up at the camera to her left. To her right, looking directly at Jayne’s barely contained breasts with what looks a LOT like an eye roll, is Sophia Loren. Sophia back in the day was a bombshell in her own right, so it’s unclear why she looked so annoyed.
This photo SPEAKS to me. Hence the reason it hangs in my bedroom, on the side of the bed where my lover sleeps. It reminds me that even though some people, including some other women, may try to squash you; that you need to rise above their insecure, petty bullshit and own who you are without reservation.
A while back, I wrote about being “too much” for people and this still holds true. I divorced a man who thought I was too much, a man who also on a few occasions had things to say about low cut dresses that he deemed “too revealing.” To be fair, that was not the only reason I jettisoned him, but it was certainly a factor.
As I’ve said before, I’ve been told for YEARS that I am too much. Too flirty, too quick to laugh, too loud, too talkative, too sexy. I have an innate skill to make damn near anything a double entendre and it delights everyone I know. Life is too short to not have a good time every single day of your life.
But, I digress, as I often do. Let me get back to the damn point already. The point is, the life of a blonde bombshell is HARD WORK, friends.
I pull myself out of bed after hitting the snooze button at least once. Shower, shampoo, exfoliate. Moisturize, (even though that oily skin I cursed in high school has been a boon, perimenopause has me dry as hell), makeup, and then the daily blow out. I know I should not be shampooing every day, but holy hell, old habits die hard. Get dressed for work, choose some heels and then into the car to get to the office. Listen to NPR on the ride; you should all know damn well by now that I have zero time for Fox News in my car.
Get to work and stun everyone daily with my smarts. I recently pivoted in my career and it’s been GLORIOUS. More on that another day, friends. Leave the office and head to spin class. I love me some spin; its not everyone’s thing, I know. But I love it.
If it’s a Friday, dinner and drinks with my love or some other fun event with friends. Otherwise it’s home to do what we all do… make dinner and do some laundry or some other random household chore. Probably more like thirteen different chores. Rinse and repeat while I wait for the next vacation or retirement. Like the rest of us Gen-Xers… that day may never come!
OK, so maybe that’s not so hard. That’s really just the day in the life of damn near every woman I know, regardless of their hair color or bombshell identification.
Because here’s the thing… a day in ANY woman’s life is HARD WORK, friends. Women keep this world running and we do not get any of the credit we deserve for it. I firmly believe that if women ran the show, healthcare would be free for all, there would be no hungry children in this world, education would be celebrated and billionaires would not be robbing us blind while they try to convince us that immigrants are the enemy. Fun fact, the billionaires are the enemy, friends.
So here’s to all of us. The women who are keeping this shit together on the daily. You are all fucking KILLING IT.
Resist Invisible 