Whatever happened to the stiff upper lip? And how is it that I don't get any sympathy when I shed a few tears. My husband has no time for my tears, and refuses to talk to me when I throw a hissy fit. My friends have never seen my cry -- and for good reason, too. I look horrible, complete with a red nose and puffy eyes.
We were taught to hide our tears. "Cry, I was told. But in private. The world does not want to see your tears." And so the bathroom became a haven. I would shed my tears, sing a mournful song or two, have a shower, and emerge dry-eyed.
But these days, public display of emotion is the order of the day. It helped Hillary get the votes she needed. Maybe I will shed a tear or two tonight... and see where that gets me. But I'm not holding my breath. The people I know wouldn't fall for it. Perhaps that's why I'm no politician, no leader, no social butterfly. I simply blink and move on.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment