Thursday, August 27, 2015
Loyalty and Shame (AM)
I have a friend who married a fellow with an unfortunate name. Let's call him Joe Pimp. She loves her husband very much, and has a bent towards the traditional, so she changed her name. She became, let's say, Sally Pimp. Sally had a great surname to begin with, and we all wondered whether she would change it. She said that she did in part out of loyalty to Joe. She loved him, Pimp and all. Time passed and the Pimps welcomed to bouncing baby girl. They gave her a somewhat unique first name, let's go with Marmalade. So that bouncing baby girl became Marmalade Pimp. Now you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know that that name is pretty wack, and soon, the Pimps realised that too. They lived their baby girl and didn't want her to suffer unnecessarily. They figured the world was tough enough without having to go through life being called Marmalade Pimp. So Sally and Marmalade changed their names back to Sally's original name. It was a tough decision but they did it to prevent suffering and they never looked back.
I'm telling you all of this because since the baby has come, Melbourne has lost some games of footy in a truly woeful fashion. I expect you're thinking what's new, right? I don't blame you. Maybe it's because I'm tired and emotional and have a new baby, but these losses have hit me hard. And got me thinking about what kind of life I want for my son. I always thought that I'd proudly pass on my club allegiance to my offspring, I never questioned it, it's what one does.
But now I'm not so sure I want this misery for him. I'm not even sure I want to for myself.
These thoughts are very troubling to me, and challenge everything I believed about myself in relation to loyalty and commitment. I'm ashamed of them but they are there. And like the folk on Embarrassing Bodies who can't bring themselves to tell a single GP about their weird genital condition but somehow feel ok about going on TV and telling millions, I'm telling all of you. I don't know where to go with these thoughts. I guess this is a cry for help.