(All pics. snapped on 6/02/11)
Considering the way that I behave now on the internet, it may surprise you to know that when I first started blogging back in July of '08 - I worried about what people in my community might think, say or do - should they discover that I...Lauralyn...mother of four...ex-wife of a prominent local businessman, and resident of their hyper-conservative, meddlesome, small town - had begun divulging in detail, my online dating indiscretions. I was so concerned about the potential backlash in fact, that I protected my true identity by hiding behind the name and the face of the beloved farm truck that my kids and I affectionately dubbed - Big Ugly.
9 months ago I said, "Goodbye" to blogging under a pseudonym (and a pseudo face), but just this week my children and I bid farewell to our favorite inanimate family member, a.k.a. The Big Ugly Blog's alter-ego. Although we welcomed the wad of cash that the nice man brought to the door, and placed firmly in mommy's greedy hands - not one of us was smiling when the real life Big Ugly was taken away, never to return to his spot in the yard by the garage.
It may sound crazy, but the pit that I've had in my stomach for weeks, has been way worse since Big Ugly's been gone - especially since the poor thing's fate is undetermined. I definitely feel guilty (stupid?) for selling off one of my most prized possessions (the namesake of both of my blogs, for Pete's sakes!) to most likely become "parts" or even scrap. I dunno, the whole thing just feels sorta Jack and the Beanstalk-ish to me...but where Jack made a deal over the family's dairy cow, I instead traded my mascot...for just slightly more than a handful of beans.
I do also think that some of the melancholia may stem from acknowledging the end of an era - i.e. those early blogging days when I was so unsure and still wet behind the ears - a time when my truck's fugly mug offered the obscurity which allowed me to begin blogging with brazen abandon...
"If it was so traumatic for you, then why did you sell it?" you may be understandably puzzling...Well? No point in mincing words here - I desperately needed the money.
So see? There's more contributing to my bout with malaise, than only malevolent douche-baggy guys...
I guess if there is a silver lining to this story - it would have to be this: I've wanted to do a seedy motel room shoot, for months now - a flashback to say...the 1950's or '60's? Maybe stage a playfully naughty romp with some imaginary beau, against a kitsch-rich backdrop, wearing a yummy, vintage teddy. Trouble is - I've never found a motel that met my criteria...which is really of no consequence, since I could've never afforded the room in the first place.
Agreed - the money that I got from the sale of my treasured truck, would've been more sensibly spent on gas or groceries or bills. But in case you hadn't noticed - I am not a sensible person. On the contrary, I'm oftentimes regrettably impulsive and reprehensibly self-indulgent, to boot...and so it made total sense to me to put a cut of the proceeds towards the motel room shoot of which I've been dreaming for so long.
This shoot however, turned out to be almost nothing like the one I'd imagined. For starters - I absolutely hated the room. It was miniscule and cramped - making camera placement difficult and variation in my pics. somewhat limited. And to make things worse - the decor wasn't interesting enough to be considered cute or cheesy or anything besides just plain blah. But I'd paid my $45, by god...and I was determined to get my damn money's worth...
It bears mentioning that I went into this shoot - feeling pretty much emotionally bankrupt. I was depending on the euphoria that typically follows a self-portraiture session - to lift my spirits for a little while, at least. But the only way that my time snapping pics. in this room, even remotely lived up to my expectations - was that it did feel legitimately "seedy"...which left me sick to my stomach for the rest of the day, and frankly? I haven't felt exactly "right" since.
Nowadays (as you know), I scoff at the derisive spin that accompanies being a candid, naked blogger living in the sticks. But there's one negative side-effect of this thing that I do, and lately extenuating circumstances have forced me to take it more seriously...in large part because it has everything to do with my identity.
It's becoming more and more apparent to me, that men in particular - see the women in my self-portraits and become convinced that they're the person that I actually am. But they're not. The subjects in my pics. are exaggerations of the real me, or figments of my wild imagination - sometimes complete fabrications. And so when I falter and let a curious man like that meet me in person - seems a few things will inevitably happen. First, he'll realize that without all the costumes and make-up and flattering camera angles - I'm pretty much a regular person (bummer)...but he's there, right? So why not go ahead and get that notch on his belt. After he's had his little joyride, he'll discard me like trash (cuz I guess that's what he takes me to be), and go back to his girlfriend or some younger more attractive, better option - offering no explanation for his sudden departure...no text, no phone call, no email - no nothin'...only silence in which to draw my own conclusions. Neato.
In reviewing the motel pics., and as I wrote and re-wrote this entry in my head over the week since I took them - several things have run through my mind repeatedly:
1.) Enough with the self-pity already...buck the f*@# up, cowgirl!
2.) Omit 3/4 of what I'm tempted to write.
3.) I've done this to myself. I mean, did I really think that I could post sultry self-portraits on the web, and not expect a few guys to think (and act upon), "Yeah, I'd tap that."?
4.) I've made my bed, and now I must lay in it. And what I mean by that is - if I'm gonna continue posting provocative images on the internet, Imma havta either deal with 'em, or learn how to filter out the men who approach me cuz they wanna pork the people in my pics....I can't be so naive and eager to trust, all the time. In other words - mama's gotta calibrate her dirt ball detector.
5.) It's possible that because of my self-portraits and my blog, I may have rendered myself "un-datable".
6.) I never should've sold Big Ugly.
7.) Maybe there is more of the "real" me in my pictures, than I've let myself believe before now.