It began innocently enough….
As I sat in my car waiting for kids and listening to ‘Womanizer’ by Britney Spears, my mind wandered off and the next thing I knew, I cast myself in a music video alongside Britney.
We were pole dancing, or rather, she was pole dancing and I was gyrating sans pole, near her. The wind machine was in full force, but unlike Britney, whose willowy extensions were fanned out and seductively framing her face, I had a thatch of hair fasten to my lips, courtesy of the sticky MAC Nymphette Lip Glass I was wearing. Come to think of it, my lower back was kinda hurting from the spastic rotation my hips were performing in a supreme effort to keep up with Brits. Plus, I was sorta bored. Which is not good for one to be, when in a music video.
So I hit the radio preset button.
Instantly I was faced with this question: Do I believe in Life After Love? After love, after love, after love… Uh, I guess so. But what I believed in more was the image of me belting out a synthesized tune in a long blonde wig (embellished with dwarf ostrich feathers), sparkly makeup, thigh high patent leather Louboutins and a short satin black kimono (not to worry though, because I was also wearing Spanx and the kimono was taped to my body so that it wouldn’t accidentally fly open while dancing). And in my close-up I was moving my mouth all Cher-like and licking my lips and flashing my eyes seductively and flinging my hair aside and feeling in general, HIP. Until I really started paying attention to the words and wondered, hmmm, I'm not sure what to believe, ‘cause am I really hurtin’ so bad? Or is more that I don’t like the way I dance with giant ridiculous Louboutins? And thus I reached for the preset button again.
And mercifully, I became the meat in a Don Henley/Glenn Fry sandwich, circa 1994; it was possibly the tastiest manwich I’ve ever been in. We were standing in a darkly lit ballroom with a lone spotlight focused on us, while the other band members were off in the background, bringing the song to life with their acoustic guitars, sight unseen (sorry guys). I paired nicely with the two boys, outfitted in blue jeans and a plain white shirt, my dark hair hanging long and straight. Glenn decided the only way he could possibly play guitar was to lean against my back, thus freeing my front for Don to serenade me with one of my favorite songs. I wanted to stay in this seductive Spanish sounding Hotel for a long time, but unfortunately, it was short lived, because the song ended.
WTF? I almost choked on my chocolate Nip when I realized the next little diddy was a country tune that had me featured onstage in Old Opryland with Gwen! Wooden Gwen..…Boorish Gwen. Oh Gwen, to have to avoid you now in song too? This was highly unfair. Luckily I knew a line dance with a quick two-step maneuver that allowed me to stomp a floor button that just so happened to open a hidden trap door, on which Gwen alone was perched. And Gwyneth? I watched giddily as she free fell down a chute into a vat of goop. And judging by the sound of my audience’s jubilant roar as she landed, they were pleased too. I decided it was the perfect time to exit. Bing! New station.
Then it happened.
The music of the song was pounding and the vocals vacillated between a sultry female and an angry male. The camera panned to a lone woman wearing scruffy cargo pants, an oversized hoodie, and ripped up high tops. Her hands were buried deep in her pant pockets and she was slogging through a gritty run down section of an urban city. It was near dusk, the sky was colored concrete gray, and the air was damp. Cut to a shot of an unidentified male running. Then back to the woman, who picked up her pace along a desolate waterfront littered with defunct and empty factories. And back to the unknown male, who was still running. The female was now trudging through a leafless forest, when from behind her, the unidentified male grabs her and roughly spins her around.
And the woman of course, is me. And I am face to face with him. For a second, he looks hard at my face, perhaps struggling to control his anger, and then a sudden change comes over him, maybe he registers the acceptance in my eyes. He leans over and gently kisses my forehead.
Oh my! Sitting in my car, I realize I am quite goose-pimply.
Back to the video, where I lightly touch his face, signaling: yes, Em. I forgive you baby. Then Em grabs my hand and silently we walk through the trees. Ahead of us, hanging low on the horizon, a sliver of tangerine sun peeks over a cloud.
Yeah, it’s all a little tacky….but for a few solitary minutes, it’s a little great too.
(p.s. sorry about Eminem Tonya)
(p.s.s. I LOVE my cartoon outfit, but my Glenn..as in not Mr. Frey...thinks it looks a little Jane Jetson-ish)