WARNING: You maybe shouldn't read my new book
7 years ago
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The celebrity tabloids have been bombarded with stories of Sandra Bullock's philandering husband and his tattooed (and mustachioed) mistress, Michelle McGee. (Sorry, honey, but you're no "bombshell".) While most tales of man cheating on woman get passed over without so much as a shake of the head, this tale of infidelity has shaken many, many women to the core.
Why? Because we ARE Sandra Bullock. She's not this cosmically out of reach beauty that so many of the other Hollywood starlets are. She's always represented herself as average, normal (in all relativity), the woman we all would be if we could pull off wearing red lipstick and a gold, form-fitting gown on the Oscar red carpet. It's easier seeing ourselves as her, and because of that, when something good happens, WE feel good, and when something terrible happens...well, we feel every single ounce of her pain.
And for those of us who know, who still feel the sharp sting of betrayal, the betrayal that has been cast against her is all too real. She's the Sally Field of our time. We like her, we really like her, and she's been brought down by a man she trusted, a man she loved, a man whom she stood by, despite the choices he'd made in the past, and the consequences that brought forth later. (e.g. the custody battle he had with his former wife, Janine Somethingmiller.)
Sandra is me, she's you, she's your sister, your mother, your daughter, your best friend. She's every single one of us women who've struggled with mediocrity and everything that comes before and after it. Whether we're drop dead gorgeous, or look like we've dropped dead, we've all been able to see ourselves in her, and now we see our own pain in hers. We see our own ire in what she's feeling towards her husband. We all ask ourselves why? Why would a man who had everything do something like that? We question whether or not it could have been prevented, but we all know deep down - though we probably can't admit it out loud - that there was nothing that would have prevented such a thing from happening.
You can't make a tiger stop eating meat any more than you can stop a dog from sniffing at another dog's hind quarters. And yet, as is most likely the case, we all still want to try. And that might have been Sandra's biggest flaw, a flaw far too many of us share: we all think we can change another person for the better. Or, to be more honest, for OUR better. Unfortunately, for those of us who have tried, we know the failure that lies in that line of thinking, and the painful reality of it all is that eventually, we will be disappointed. What separates us from Sandra Bullock is that when we finally come face to face with our disappointment, it isn't splashed all over grocery aisles and celebrity blogs. And in that, we feel even more for Sandra, and now stand in her corner, willing to take the brunt of that exposure if it means saving her from it, even if only a little.
Why? Because we ARE Sandra Bullock. She's not this cosmically out of reach beauty that so many of the other Hollywood starlets are. She's always represented herself as average, normal (in all relativity), the woman we all would be if we could pull off wearing red lipstick and a gold, form-fitting gown on the Oscar red carpet. It's easier seeing ourselves as her, and because of that, when something good happens, WE feel good, and when something terrible happens...well, we feel every single ounce of her pain.
And for those of us who know, who still feel the sharp sting of betrayal, the betrayal that has been cast against her is all too real. She's the Sally Field of our time. We like her, we really like her, and she's been brought down by a man she trusted, a man she loved, a man whom she stood by, despite the choices he'd made in the past, and the consequences that brought forth later. (e.g. the custody battle he had with his former wife, Janine Somethingmiller.)
Sandra is me, she's you, she's your sister, your mother, your daughter, your best friend. She's every single one of us women who've struggled with mediocrity and everything that comes before and after it. Whether we're drop dead gorgeous, or look like we've dropped dead, we've all been able to see ourselves in her, and now we see our own pain in hers. We see our own ire in what she's feeling towards her husband. We all ask ourselves why? Why would a man who had everything do something like that? We question whether or not it could have been prevented, but we all know deep down - though we probably can't admit it out loud - that there was nothing that would have prevented such a thing from happening.
You can't make a tiger stop eating meat any more than you can stop a dog from sniffing at another dog's hind quarters. And yet, as is most likely the case, we all still want to try. And that might have been Sandra's biggest flaw, a flaw far too many of us share: we all think we can change another person for the better. Or, to be more honest, for OUR better. Unfortunately, for those of us who have tried, we know the failure that lies in that line of thinking, and the painful reality of it all is that eventually, we will be disappointed. What separates us from Sandra Bullock is that when we finally come face to face with our disappointment, it isn't splashed all over grocery aisles and celebrity blogs. And in that, we feel even more for Sandra, and now stand in her corner, willing to take the brunt of that exposure if it means saving her from it, even if only a little.
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