The Secret Confessions of a Horny House Wife

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the story of Pinocchio.  It was never one of my favorite fairy tales: no pretty clothes, no fancy balls, no handsome prince, no romance.  But it’s stuck in my head lately and I can’t get it out. 

The basic plot points of the story of Pinocchio are these:

1. Live as a marionette.
2. Get a cricket for a conscience.
3. Lie and have your nose grow.
4. Go to Pleasure Island, where you start to…
5. …Become a jack ass.
6. As a jackass, work in a salt mine.
7. Try to go home, but find that you can’t anymore because those closest to you have…
8. …Been swallowed by a whale in searching for you.
9. Get swallowed by a whale, yourself.
10. Reunite with those you love inside the belly of the whale.
11. Drown in an effort to save the one that you love the most.
12. Be brought back to life by the Blue Fairy.
13. Become a real boy.

My hair has been falling out.  Not just a little.  A lot.  It began about a month ago.  I’ve been to two doctors and a lunatic nutritionist.  No answers from those quarters, so I’m just trying to take better care of myself.  I was treating myself pretty badly a few weeks ago: not enough sleep, too much caffeine, never sitting, never resting.  Now, I’m sleeping eight hours a night.  I’m taking vitamins and trying to rest and eat healthier foods.   

But the notion I can’t shake is that none of this healthy living is going to make a difference with my hair.  My secret theory about it (that I feel ridiculous for believeing, but believe in, nonetheless) is that when I stop lying, my hair will stop falling out.  Just like Pinocchio and his lie-induced over-grown nose.  A single hair bids my scalp goodbye forever at the sound of every lie.  At this rate, I’ll be bald by winter. 

I chose to live as my husband’s puppet.  Finally, hungry for sex and attention, I went to live on Pleasure Island.  While it was fun, I think it is making me a jackass.  And, I feel as though I’m losing the person I love the most, my son. 

Because what I’m discovering is that when I lie to my husband and friends and family and co-workers about what I am really doing and who I really am and what I really want, the real me is slowly, almost imperceptibly, slipping away.  And with the real me gone, a genuine, deep, and passionate connection to my son is impossible. 

I told my husband last night I want a divorce.  Pain, pain, pain. 

So here I am, in the belly of the whale.  I’ve got donkey ears and and a donkey tail.  My nose is growing and my hair is thinning, but I’m finally ready to plunge into the deep, to save my son and myself and our life and our future together. 

It’s going to be cold and wet and I’ll be gasping for air and I’ll believe I’m going to die here at sea.     

Will you be my conscience, Jiminy Cricket?  I’m going to need you by my side. 

I want to do it.  I want to become a real girl. 

♥, HH

When you wish upon a star