*Editing in process, content added ...
Though snubbed at the Oscars, I highly recommend this film.
I didn't expect this movie to have this effect on me, but it did - I found myself sobbing like a baby in the end.
I guess on the heels of what I wrote yesterday, it was the timing?
It's like ... I am SO grateful for where I am now, but I should never forget what it was like to struggle, right?
I was never a showgirl or anything even close, far from it - but her struggles with being judged as a single mother without family support hit home.
Don't get me wrong, I truly am grateful, and don't misinterpret this as bitterness - it's just equally important to not pretend like it didn't happen, either - if for nothing else than we are better able to recognize others struggling as we once did.
In fact, I spend a lot of time trying not to think about past pain, because it makes you bitter, and if I start to go down that path, I usually pull out a piece of paper and start scribbling down where my life is now versus then and how grateful I am.
However, it's also not healthy to bury it and pretend it didn't happen, and as someone once said to me:
"Those tender scars left that get pricked now and then are there to remind you that the past was real."
"Sure, you can cover them so you can function, but you're not supposed to bury and forget or pretend it didn't happen."
"Doesn't mean you're bitter or dwelling, it just means that every now and then, it's important to remember so it never happens again, to you or anyone else, if you can help it."
Amen.
So this movie is the reality for women in general, particularly for single mothers, and especially single mothers without supportive parents/families.
And it's not that we're blaming everyone else for our troubles - believe me, we're completely aware of who's fault it is that we've found ourselves in the situations we're in and the choices we've made.
It's just that not enough responsibility is taken or shared with not just the fathers in the situation, but a society that still clings to not only antiquated ideas about blaming just women for unmarried sex, but the American Dream fantasy that despite not having or completing a college degree, the harder you work, the more it will pay off.
The American Dream has never been a reality for most people - particularly women and minorities, where a wage gap still exists today.
And I know some coal miners in Eastern Kentucky who work harder than 98% of anyone else in America, to the point that their backs are broken and their lungs are black, but who will never be rich, and in fact, still live in poverty.
Tack onto that that there legitimately are plenty of judgmental assholes around, male AND female, ready to damn you whether you do or you don't as a single mom.
Thus, though The Last Showgirl has a completely different story, the similarities were enough that I felt less alone in my experiences, because someone else wrote a movie about the tough choices single moms have to make that apparently many, many single mothers without supportive families have had to make.
I was never a dancer or showgirl, of course, but the judgment placed upon you, especially in the religious South, can be especially rough versus other parts of the country.
I can't even imagine how much worse it would've been if I had been a showgirl on top of that!
So the judgment/assumption parade begins from the moment you discover you're pregnant.
You're a slut and must have loose morals.
You did it on purpose to entrap the man.
You did it for attention.
You're irresponsible.
You had a child to feel like somebody loved you because no one does.
Nope.
For starters, irresponsible, lazy people do not get straight A's at a major university AND work full time, 3 months before they found out they were pregnant.
Slutty people don't live with their long-term boyfriend of two years without ever cheating.
Women who get pregnant to entrap men don't say "Um ... No" when the child's father proposes marriage.
(A proposal which, by the way, was done while he was drunk and on the toilet, out of some drunken, misguided, fleeting sense of responsibility, which predictably faded once he was sober.)
They also don't finally leave that guy rather than vice versa, because a few months after she was born, he spent their last $40 dollars, saved in a jar for baby formula, on drinking and a stripper.
As for wanting to be loved, the last way in the world any woman would ever chose to feel loved by anyone would be by becoming a mother.
Because you already know going in that your own wants, hopes, and dreams - other than being a mother someday - are now all over.
You sign up knowing that it's no longer about you, it's about them - and if I wasn't 100% sure I could do that, I would've put her up for adoption.
So perhaps instead of any of those narratives, what actually happened was, I was trapped in a loveless relationship, mostly to avoid my abusive family, but his almost equally disparaging remarks and cheating left me with zero confidence, but I didn't have the confidence, courage, nor the money to leave.
Thus, I became so clinically depressed and worthless-feeling that I didn't care what happened to me anymore, and screwed up my birth control in the process, whilst he refused to ever wear a condom.
That's truth and choices that I'm not proud of - but it also doesn't fit a single one of those narratives, does it?
Not to mention, those narratives were created by others who weren't even around or really knew me, in order to feel superior, relieve themselves of any responsibility, and/or assuage their guilt/justify not supporting me.
The next assumption/judgment comes with making the decision whether or not to keep the child.
Despite having no belief in yourself and being drawn to selfish, abusive people because it's familiar - who think just as poorly of you as you've been trained to - you cannot bring yourself to have an abortion.
So you decide that even if you don't believe in yourself, you believe in your child, and so you start to get up and try again ... not for yourself, but for them.
Now, as much as society apparently now wants to outlaw abortions, believe me when I say those same people aren't giving any prizes for NOT getting an abortion; in fact, they never lift a finger to help or support you or the child, emotionally, financially, or any other way. You still must've been a no-moral slut and therefore don't deserve it.
And it's not just men - women are even worse with the judgment.
I remember the main gossip at work, who never spoke to me before, came up and said ...
"I heard you were pregnant and not married. So who's the father, that guy from fragrances I see you go to lunch with sometimes?"
I thought to myself - Rude, nosy, and judgmental much? Yeah - the father is my child is D from Fragrances - who is gay and trying to hide it from people like you.
But I didn't say that.
In fact, I said something even better.
Tired of her nosy, judgmental gossip about everyone, I instead said this:
"Well, the results won't be in for a while, but it's either Mr. M or Mr. A - (the department store manager and the assistant manager)."
😂😂😂
Not 10 minutes later, my friend from her department, women's fine apparel, runs over, bending over from laughing so hard ...
T: "OMG, Chrystal, you booger! She's telling everyone you're not sure who the father of your child is and it may be the department store manager or assistant manager! Hahaha! Why didn't you tell her it's your long-term, live-in boyfriend?"
Me: "Hahaha! Serves her right. Because I knew she'd spout that sh*t everywhere and get herself in trouble. She doesn't deserve to know the truth, she doesn't care. She just wants juicy gossip and to feel superior. She started that conversation with asking me if it was D from Fragrances! Clueless! That ougghta teach her a lesson about minding her own business and spreading gossip!"
😂😂😂
Also, some of your supposed friends aren't much better.
In fact, let's say one of your former supposed "friends" during that decision - the two of you mutually ghosting each other right after your daughter was born - 15 years later told your now teenage daughter, while at her father's house, that you were "overly emotional/dramatic" about having to make that decision.
Now, my daughter thought I don't know who this person was and wouldn't tell me at the time, but I absolutely know who that was - because her husband and my daughter's father later become friends through work, a couple of years after she and I were no longer friends.
Though she told my daughter that we were close, the truth is, though we hung out a lot after work, I would've never described us as "close."
I found this person pretty shallow, actually. In fact, she had no other friends in town BUT me, and that is because most people thought SHE was weird. (They already knew I was weird, but still tolerated me, plus I liked just about everyone, including her - I don't like to exclude anyone.)
That is because although she could be fun, she also kinda lived in her own little world, all about skin care and makeup, apparently without any deeper thoughts - she came across like a naive teenager, all rainbows and unicorns, though we were well past our teenage years.
I realized pretty quickly, after breaking down in front of her over this decision, that I couldn't share the full story with her, because her reaction to just that much proved she wasn't a safe person to share the full story with.
But back then, in my conditioned self-blaming state and feeling embarrassed, I agreed with her - the problem was I'd become "become too serious" and "too emotional" over this decision and I was embarrassed about it.
However, after therapy, I've learned to give myself more of a break for what I was going through than the type of people I surrounded myself with at that time.
I can't make excuses for everything I said and did, back then, but I'm done beating myself up, too.
Thus today, my response would go something more like ...
Well, let's see - for starters, I was 24 years old and having to make the hardest decision of my life - abort, put up for adoption, or keep a child. There aren't too many harder decisions in life than that..
Tack onto that, my live-in boyfriend, who degraded me nearly daily, was regularly cheating on me with strippers and gave me the gift of an STD on top of a child, but was gaslighting me that I was crazy and he wasn't!.
Tack onto that, it's not just that my family wasn't supportive, they were even more degrading to the point of abusive, so their response was:
1) Older sister threatened to never speak to me again if I did NOT get an abortion so the child wouldn't "grow up to be a loser like you (me) and want to kill itself)."
- and -
2) My overly religious mother - who literally believed I was a witch at the time, mind you - because I was the first person to ever tell her that I thought she had a (now finally officially diagnosed, verified, and treated) mental illness, instead of blaming JUST my dad's abuse for her mood swings and own abusive behavior - won't talk to me again if I DO get an abortion.
Didn't know any of that other stuff, did you?
So, gee - forgive me if I was a bit overdramatic, trying to make the biggest choice of my life, while navigating other people's literal mental illness or general bad behavior that I had no control over.
I'm so sorry it made you uncomfortable, there in your ivory tower of a happy marriage, having no deeper thoughts than becoming an esthetician and wearing the perfect makeup and Martha Stewart quiches, never having been in my situation nor never would be.
But here you are, telling me that I'd become too serious and too emotional for you over this, and you had enough serious friends, and if I "didn't bring back funny me" you couldn't hang out with me anymore.
Oh, okay - sure thing!
Let me just put on my jester outfit for you! Hope you won't mind that it doesn't fit anymore, not only because my of my big fat pregnant belly, but because my life legitimately HAS changed forever?!?
And I don't suppose the thought of "How can I help?" ever occurred to you?
Well, other than helping my ACTUAL best friend plan a surprise baby shower for me, which was actually more of a ruse for you to play Martha Effing Stewart!
And never mind that the whole thing turned into my worst nightmare, after my boyfriend's psycho sister loudly threw jabs at me, out of her admitted jealousy of Z and I having the first grandchild in the family instead of her, making the whole thing awkward for everyone, with neither her mother OR mine stopping her and actually laughing along with her jabs I tried to ignore.
There were 30 people there and Z's psycho sister decides to sit right in front of me, while I'm opening baby shower presents, hurling insults at me.
I mean, it was like a record scratch - everyone squirmed in their seats and no one knew what to do.
I tried to ignore her and just open presents, but my hands began shaking.
Neither Z's mom or my mom stopped her. In fact, they actually laughed along or smirked, apparently enjoying the ridicule.
You didn't say or do anything, you just went to grab more of your quiche to try to distract people and hope they praised you for it.
That was when my REAL best friend's mom spoke up and said:
"Shut the eff up, S. What are you, 12? What kind of person publicly hurls insults at a pregnant woman at her baby shower out of jealousy for having the first grandchild? Why are you even here, then? There's the door - use it."
"C, I can see it's not just Z you spoiled, his sister is, too. Someone needs to yank BOTH their chains, and since you won't do it, and Chrystal's mom won't, I guess it had to be me."
"And Marti, I'd be ashamed, if I were you, sitting there with weird-ass a smirk on your face, like you're enjoying the public humiliation of your own daughter? I can see for myself why she needs the rest of us to step up and help support her."
Though I appreciated her doing what you and others could not, I was also now just completely publicly humiliated, not just over the ridicule, but felt my family skeletons were now on full public display to everyone I knew - and now there's bickering going on between them, too.
(Gee, I wonder why I developed crippling social anxiety shortly thereafter.)
So I excused myself to the bathroom and had a full-on panic attack - and then I left without telling anyone but my best friend, while the arguing was still going on, I just couldn't deal.
Yeah, I admit that was weird and a little crazy of me to do - but I was absolutely publicly humiliated and realized how alone in this I really was.
But you know, while I'm remembering you today, come to think of it, why the F were you talking shit about me to my then 15-year-old daughter at her father's house, 15 years after our friendship ended?
Do you think that's normal behavior for a grown adult?
Gee, I wonder why we stopped being friends 15 years prior, just after my daughter was born, it's a mystery.
Maybe it was because you're the sort of selfish person that talks shit to your former friend's child - something that normal, unselfish people would never do, even if I hated the person, to spare the child's feelings.
No worries, I'm sure Z sett that up for you - it helped him with his end game.
But I don't hate you, I never even thought of you, 15 years later, until I heard that, and haven't thought of you since until today.
Do you remember how our friendship actually ended?
Nothing happened.
We never had a single argument, nothing bad happened - we just stopped calling each other.
So it was mutual - my shit got very real and you couldn't handle it, still living in teenage rainbow-and-unicorn princess la-la land at 25 years old.
I couldn't offer you what you wanted anymore, to be your on-demand funny court jester, and all you could offer me was a good skincare regime, fair-weather friendship, a Martha Stewart quiche, and harsh judgment.
I'm better now, by the way, since I got away from all that and learned how to avoid "familiar" people to those in my family of origin and started believing I deserved better , years ago, thanks for asking.
I do hope you've grown up yourself since then as well.
I also hope you've woken up out of La La Land enough to realize it wasn't exactly church that your husband and Z went to, late at night, after our friendship ended and they became friends a few years later, now was it?
Did you NOT notice the glitter that had rubbed off on them from the strippers?
Then again, I understand you did ask him to stop hanging out with Z so much, but I doubt in your world, you even noticed the glitter rub-off or hundreds disappearing from bank accounts.
Welcome to my world now, Sweetie - only imagine being pregnant at the time, too.
Then again, probably not. because I understand you're still married, so you likely haven't. I honestly wish I lived in your reality - but unfortunately, I don't.
GOD, I haven't thought of her in 15 years, since I heard she said that BS to my daughter, when Z and he had become friends, until today - and I admit, that felt good to finally say years later!
Now that I got that out, back to how much better the assumptions and judgment gets for young, unmarried single moms after the baby is born.
*sarcasm*
In my case, I didn't become a showgirl, I got into medical transcription to support us, which at the time, was a more lucrative, safer bet than being a secretary, and it's the best I thought someone like me could do - but only after a 2-year apprenticeship at low pay, so I moved in with my grandparents.
Of course, I had no crystal ball to know that 6 years later, we'd be outsourced offshore, all but 2 third-party US contractors would go bankrupt during the recession, or that check-the-box EMR/EHR systems and/or AI would replace us almost entirely.
At the time, it was a great gig that lasted for 6 great years until we began to be replaced.
At that point, medical transcription was all I was trained to do and all I felt I could do and I was pushing 40.
Her father, of course, had no interest in her except on holidays, if he even showed up, but still always 1-2 hours late and not sober.
As for financial support, let's put it this way - he had his own wages garnished when she was 4 because he couldn't remember to pay child support - which, by the way, was only $424 a month - not even enough to cover child care while I worked.
AND I never had that $424 of monthlychild support raised, despite him later getting into commercial liquor sales and making 150K a couple of years later.
And beware if the Dad ever magically re-enters their life, now that your child is a teenager now and needs less care.
You like to think they've finally grown up, and you're initially SO happy for your child, that he's finally showing an interest in them.
Or not - because maybe there's an ulterior motive you discovered through a third-party child-support office worker, who called to inform you what he was actually up to.
And yet my daughter still scratches her head about why he lavished her with attention for just those 3 years until she turned 18, when it all but vanished, without realizing there was a reason for it and that reason wasn't her, nor his having a new girlfriend (though that was part of it) - just not a reason he'd ever admit to.
I've never told her and won't until she asks - but I am getting real sick of sitting on stuff like this while lies still abound about me, right?
Even in situations where there isn't an ulterior motive, if they do later return to your child's life, they now get to be "Disneyland Dad" and can afford all the fun, while you eat peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
And then they have the audacity to later try to take all the credit?
Why, because they showed up again when she was 15 years old and could afford things you couldn't, though you could have - and should have - raised their child support at any time?
I don't think so.
Money, gifts, and trips aren't love - and struggling financially doesn't make you a bad parent.
And again, I could've raised the child support at any time, but I didn't - I wasn't about to get into a parenting gift competition with him - I thought I didn't have to.
And sometimes telling a child "no" when it's not good for them or they're being teenage-manipulative is love, too.
And there are other judgments and ridiculous assumptions made/things said by others, things like ...
"You live with your grandparents again, they must be raising her."
Nope - far from it
First of all, I wouldn't be the first or only person ever to live with their mother or grandmother as a single mom, that's actually VERY common.
Regardless, the truth is ....
Neither of my grandparents ever changed a single diaper (neither could stand the smell.
They never gave her a single bottle, or a single bath, nor did they ever even once buy her diapers or a single item of clothing until she was 13 years old, for her first school dance.
They never sat up with her all night with 103 fever, carried her to the bathroom to throw up, while you threw up in the bathtub, both sick with the stomach flu.
They never cleaned, dressed and soothed a single bee sting, skinned knee or stitches from falls on the playground, and my grandmother only took her to the doctor - once.
They never went to a single teacher's conference, open house, or chaperoned a single school dance.
Not because they didn't want to, but because they were too old and I wouldn't let them buy her stuff, living there was enough of a financial drain on them.
AND - I paid for her daycare while I worked.
They did cook for us, as grandmothers like to do, sometimes added her clothes to their laundry, read her stories, and played with her - normal grandparent stuff.
But you best believe there are others in the family, who weren't even around, who have said they raised her.
Despite the fact that I literally never went out except to work or school and the grocery.
I had developed severe social anxiety, so no nights out with friends, no partying, and I didn't have a single date since her father until she was 5 years old.
I did go back to college part-time (making straight A's, mind you), but I had no social life.
My daughter WAS my life - and I loved it that way - and she was worth it all 😊
So to the person who told her that my grandparents raised her, where do you say I was?
No answer?
So once again, your narrative is off - because you know I didn't go out, I was right there 24/7, with the exception of daycare - that *I* paid for - while working/in school.
Then you get to the next judgment/assumption/Catch-22 ...
"Work 2 jobs, work 3 jobs to have more money, maybe you're just lazy."
Um - I did - during the recession, when all of the transcription companies fell, I actually worked 3 jobs, 7 days a week - waiting tables though people weren't tipping much, temp data entry for DHL, and at a Wendy's fast-food restaurant, even when sick, at minimum wage.
And let me tell you, I guarantee you I worked harder at those menial jobs than you ever did on your best day or even on MY best day as an MT.
And if you really still drink the American Dream Kool-Aid that if you just work really hard, you'll get ahead, and think that working 3 minimum-wage jobs 7 days a week is enough to be able to pay for it all, wake the F up.
Then, of course, NOW you get "Now you're not home at nights because you're working and she's 14, anything could happen."
See?
We're damned if we do, damned if we don't.
Now - on top of all of that I just mentioned, imagine you're Pamela Anderson (who did a surprisingly good job) as Shelly - an aging Las Vegas showgirl, who's show is closing.
She makes more than minimum wage, but still not enough for savings or retirement or even childcare.
And let's be honest - people are even harder on single mothers like her, who make their money off their looks most of all - and then when that starts to go, what do they do?Because the unfortunate truth in America is, the largest group of female top-income earners in America who aren't celebrities aren't neurosurgeons - it's women who take their clothes off in some way, shape, or form.
The father - who works on her shows, btw - is a sweet man, but apparently never offered to help her and she never asks him for help.
Although he's fond of her, he says to her "Why didn't you get a regular job like a cashier at the supermarket?"
Um, because the supermarket pays even less and all your minimum wage money goes to child care?
So she says to him "Where were you?"
THAT.
I also don't blame her one bit when she says "I am tired of defending myself (for having no other choice but to make certain decisions that her daughter doesn't understand yet - and hopefully, as a result of those decisions, she never will have to live it to understand it.
I got to that point myself.
You should ALWAYS take responsibility for what IS true, but there comes a point when you're done apologizing, especially for things you couldn't control.
More importantly, there is a a time to stop defending yourself from any false accusations and lies being regurgitated after originating from others who weren't even there, and just let people believe what they need to believe if makes them feel better/leaves them responsibilitless.
(However, she lost me when she had her little meltdown, losing it completely, throwing away her typical positivity and sweetness, which was understandable, but taking it out on the young dancers who looked up to her and blaming them for not being honest with her and not apologizing for it (at least that we saw, though apparently there was a scene cut about this) - that wasn't cool.)
Now, mostly, the people that say this stuff have had more opportunity than these women had and better family support.
So it's high time that other women get off their high horses and realize that, perhaps being grateful for what they have in comparison and stop whining about what they still don't, realizing how petty most of their problems are in comparison.
You think it's tough being a woman in a man's world in business?
You're mad because you're life isn't like one of the women from Sex and the City, their worst problem apparently being not able to find men around them who can handle their success?
Boo effing hoo.
Try being a person like Shelly, who either couldn't afford college or perhaps didn't have what it takes for college, or just felt that being a showgirl dancer was not only all she could do, but who she was and what was passionate about.
So how about this?
Instead of making assumptions and judging stuff we haven't lived, how about we stop putting women in Catch-22s, give them a small break for doing the best they can, and God forbid, ask them how you can help?
But then again, if we did that, we wouldn't have excuses NOT to help them anymore, now would we?
Back to the movie, one has to wonder, is the ending real or dream?
My interpretation is - it's both?
From what I understand, the original ending was her daughter stopped judging her and started to understand, herself considering to be a photographer - which isn't easy or lucrative in either - showed up and took pictures to memorialize the final night.
However, Gia Coppola felt this wasn't consistent with gritty reality or uncertain-future nature of the film, so she axed it.
So my interpretation is, Hannah did show, but Shelly idealized it - she wasn't on center stage rather than tucked behind the younger girls, and Hannah, and her real father, Eddie, weren't sitting together, smiling with pride at her - that's just how Shelly wanted to remember that night, she needed to.
So SAG and The Golden Globes nominated this film and its actors, but the Oscars snubbed it, I'm not sure why.
Because it's too much ugly truth about the reality of women in America, especially in show business?
Or was it because it was Pamela Anderson?
I gotta tell you, I don't think I was the only person in America surprised by Pamela's acting skills in this movie.
Who knew she had it in her?
And the bravery it must've taken for the former poster girl to be filmed most of the time sans any makeup at all at age 57, sun-damage, wrinkles, and all?
So let's extend this new break-giving we're doing of single moms also to Pamela Anderson, too.
We all wrote her off as a brainless, talentless, blonde bimbo with an annoying baby-doll voice- but the woman clearly has more depth than any of us ever thought she was capable of.
Brava, Pamela, for your comeback/REAL acting debut, at age 57.
Brava, Jamie Lee Curtis, finally experiencing your delayed but well deserved moment in the sun at age 66.
And dare I say, Brava ... me ... for making a professional comeback, at my age of 56..
(BTW, Jamie as 66-year-old former showgirl-turned cocktail waitress, Annette, spontaneously getting up on a table to dance to "Total Eclipse of the Heart," just because she wanted to dance on a stage again, was the first time I cried during this film.)Brava moms everywhere, doing the very best they can. 😊
