2.21.2009

oh what a country song i would write...

The past few days I have found myself stricken with a broken heart.  It is much like the gnawing pain of chili fries heart burn, but the pink stuff won't make it go away.


What's worse is the effort and agony that goes into the masking of the broken heart.  A hotpink cast with neon sharpie doodles would be a much better treatment. 

This got me thinking, how does one truly mend a broken heart?  Of course the movies make it look easy.  Painful, but easy.  They tell you it involves pints of Hagen Daaz and Elizabeth Taylor, Jimmy Choos and a bottle of tequila,  Sinatra and Sleepless in Seattle.

Even empowered women make it look easy.  Every night on Sex and the City Carrie Bradshaw would climb into bed with the man of her dreams, her neck draped in long faux pearls, yet in the morning she never awoke with them choking her slender neck, even on those episodes when the man in her life was absent.

In this case, however, my heart does not break for a man, which in fact, could be part of the pain.  I'm overwhelmed with a sense of guilt for feeling pain in a place of my body that culture has assigned to men.  Maybe that is why Meg Ryan is no help to me now.  Maybe that is why a broken heart is not so easy to cure.  Its not as clear a medical condition as the television says.

 They just don't make women as glamourous as Ms. Bradshaw, and maybe if they did, with glamour would come better acting skills. 

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