This is a confession.
I am a huge Marilyn fan.
We caught the Marilyn episode of American Masters on PBS last night and it reminded me of my childhood.
It all started with the August 1982 Life magazine. I was 7 and I fell in love instantly. I could not stop pouring over the same 4 pages. I never grew tired of Marilyn with the chinchilla, or Marilyn with the pearls. Those pages eventually fell out, but I saved them and kept them in a safe place. I still have them. I even forced my dad to re-enact one of the photo shoots. It involved some pearls and me rolling around the front lawn. It pains me to even think of those pictures!
But poor Marilyn. Even at my young age, I picked up on her melancholy. I felt for her. I either wanted to be her or be her awkward best friend. I still don't know which one I'd rather be.
Umm... does anybody else find this weird.... because I sure do. I still can't believe that my parents never picked up on my mini obsession. Perhaps when I'm rich and famous, I'll go into deep therapy and they'll uncover that my problems are deeply rooted to my Marilyn obsession.
I'm getting off track here...
My mother had this pair of strappy nacre stilettos that both my sister and I adored. Any chance I had, I'd sneak into mom's dressing room, slip the sandals on, paint my lips and "become" Marilyn. Of course no outfit would be complete without the long cigarette holder, or as I would use, my number 7 watercolour paint brush.
Ummm... I can't even imagine how I would deal with my 7 year old daughter's "pretend" smoking. What do you say to that? In reality, the smoking thing got even more bizarre. I started crafting my very own cigarettes- the paintbrushes weren't fooling anyone! I'd fastidiously roll up some paper, draw the speckled filter and the red hot tip and tape it up. I think I made a few, you know, in case I lost one. My teacher eventually found the cigarettes and I was forced to throw them away. Alas, that did not deter me from pursuing my childhood dream of smoking. Ya, that's right, you heard me! I didn't know what I wanted to "be" when grew up, but I knew that I wanted to smoke. I am proud to say that I am now smoke free (if you ignore the puffs here and there at all those crazy parties I go to).
Okay, okay, I'm getting to the point.
Point is, until last night I had forgotten how much I loved Marilyn. And now I remember. It's like I reconnected with a part of myself that I'd long forgotten. And that makes me happy.
End of story.