The Scarlet Letter, What Ifs & Glass Slippers
I’ve always loved the book The Scarlet Letter. I identify with Hester but not for the reasons you think. She bore the shame in the shape of a scarlet A for carrying the child of a man who was not her assumed dead husband (adulteress hisssssssss). My burden would be a scarlet H, for honesty (comma brutal). I wear it as I approach my 35th birthday, at weddings with no +1, at family events and in my day to day life where I see the things I want oh so badly, but (for the moment) cannot and should not have.
A strange series of text messages and Facebook chats lead to a dismissal in the form of a voice mail message last night that served as a sharp reminder of the shame I bear in being able to see through the bullshit of others. A silent witness to a future train wreck where I told you so comes in the form of my absence. Be comforted that this incident affirmed my cynicism, but also that it was the inspiration for this post. Bonus, another what if was crossed off my list: Dr. Goodyear .
I’m going to keep wearing my scarlet H; I’ll continue to recognize that person staring back at me from the mirror and know that my prince will come bearing a stitch ripper vs. glass slippers (my Chucks Taylors are more comfortable anyway).