"Over the mysteries of female life there is drawn a veil, best left undisturbed." - John Brooke, Little Women
Or, if you prefer, a skirt.
I've really been struggling to write this post - to answer the question, "What are you hiding under your sk*rt?" What am I hiding under my skirt? I talked about petticoats only yesterday, and Lady M called dibs on discussing dance pants for swing dresses, so that kind of wipes out the literal answer options. Well, without giving a straight-up anatomy lesson anyway.
So what am I metaphorically hiding under my skirt? If you poke around this blog, you'll likely believe the answer is not much. And it's true that around here, I don't hold much back. I've talked openly about my depression, about being a cutter, about confessions I would be terrified to admit in person. I've written my stories of loss and love, of weakness and strength, of crushing darkness and inspiring light. It's all here, for the whole world to read - my life, lay bare before you.
But there is more, of course. With a woman, there is always more. There are mysteries hidden so far beneath the surface that no one will ever find them - secrets only I will ever know. There is love that remains silent, that never sees the light of day. There is pride in myself and my accomplishments, and there is fear of failure, and the one ensures the secrecy of the other. But most of all, there is pain, pushed away into dark corners and hidden from view. There are tears brushed away before others can see them, smiles pasted on to fool the crowd, deep breaths taken to prevent collapse. There is the pain that I show, that I write, that I speak, and twice as much below that.
But keep looking, and you will find strength, hidden perhaps the best of all. It is a strength made up of courage, fortitude, perserverance, determination, loyalty, passion, and faith. And in that strength, there is beauty.
All of this is hidden beneath my skirt, but someday it will come to light. Someday a man will come, and he will see past all those secrets straight to the strength, straight to the beauty, and he will love me for it all. And then, when we are out, and someone is fooled by the facade of my skirt, he and I will share a secret smile and know what they do not.
And it will be good.
Written as part of the Parent Bloggers Network's blog blast for Sk*rt, a new social bookmarking site for women (and men who dig skirts). If you like this post, consider heading over to the story here to vote for it, and I might win something fun (and maybe I could hide it under my skirt).
So, what's under your skirt?