Maybe it’s my astrological birthright or the fact that I was raised by a Gemini in a matriarchal Irish family or that whole Catholic confession thing. It could be my once daily devotion to Oprah (back in her plump days) or just my natural tendency towards self-revelation once I like a person (and I am fond of all my dear readers), but truth be told, I am not one for holding back. When I feel that something needs to be said or that information should be shared, I do. My husband has adapted well for a Virgo. His blinking is nearly unnoticeable now, and he hides his cringing like a man.  His only request today was that I please not discuss yeast infections, and so I won’t. But, even when I am certain I have pushed all the boundaries to their outermost limits, I amaze myself with the discovery that there are frontiers for me yet to boldly go beyond.

Sex is a topic where, except for the fact that I can’t say “clitoris” out loud, I am fairly well-versed and unflappable. There are a multitude of reasons for this too. The first one is one that is familiar to all women old enough to have had their first gynecological exam. I have listened to men, my husbands actually – then and now, whine and wince about digital rectal exams as though they were some sort of Bush Administration sanctioned torture (and they may be, can’t rule anything out there). No matter how often I pointed out, then and now, that this is a routine part of a woman’s yearly exam, it doesn’t seem to sink in that it is really no big deal. At least men are not required to “spread ‘em” while lying near naked in a very well-lit exam room both legs up in stirrups no less. I wonder if men and their doctors chat while said exam is being performed? My last exam I was telling my doctor, Collette, all about Rob and our courtship thus far. She was fascinated and had all sorts of questions. You would have thought we were girlfriends out for coffee but for the speculum, the swabbing, and fingers in places that you don’t normally let your girlfriends put them. Unless you happen to really be “girlfriends”. In which case you aren’t likely to be talking about men. As a middle school and then high school teacher, you learn to be direct and James Bond cool when the out of the blue sex query comes your way. And they do more often than you would realize. At the high school level where I last taught the questions were always of the reproductive variety. Like “how many weeks after a girl misses her period do you know if she is pregnant or not?” or “is it a bad thing to be 4 weeks late?” Just the facts ma’am, because the Webster’s dictionary definition will set you free. For me personally, going through infertility treatments and then pregnancy and childbirth freed me of any remaining constraints were my own bodily functions are concerned (okay, except for the “clitoris” thing).  Over lunch earlier, I basically drove my poor husband from the table with my musings on vaginal issues. He is a strong man but even he has his fleeing point. I ran right past that today. 

I know that when blogging I can be too forthright. Not that it stops me. I have written before that real writers can’t be afraid to cross boundaries. Writing needs to be fearlessly revelatory. How can you write about something you don’t know, and how can you know something if you don’t allow yourself to run the gamut? Although I try not to reveal information that might be sensitive to another person, the truth is that everything I read, see, hear or think about is fair game. This includes people. 

You would never know by reading me that I am, or used to be anyway, quite shy. Debilitatingly so. I had to force myself to go out to social events or raise my hand in class or later contribute to meetings in my workplace. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say or even how to say it most times, but that like the writer I think I was practically born, I needed time to edit my thoughts before setting them free on the air. In conversation there is no time for this, which might account a bit for my TMI-ishness as well. 

There are secrets of course. Confidences that I don’t breach. I have never told my husband’s whole story but for bits and pieces because I don’t feel right exposing him when he clearly wasn’t in control of himself. I have shared the things that touched me most directly or that I felt someone might benefit from reading about, but there is more that I likely will never reveal. Though I write about Rob to an extent that might bore people, the things I share are just our day to day life and how we deal with newly married life as widowed people. I do occasionally use other blogs or posts from the widow board as jump offs, relating them to my own experiences, but this is no different really than my responses to current events, magazine articles or books that I have read. I guess that unless someone cringes visibly or slowly begins to back away, I will likely remain blissfully unaware of my tendency to reveal too much too tactlessly and on I will write. Fearlessly and without apology.