Smitten, or Speaking our Truths

After a day so busy that the disappointment of another month down didn't have much time to seep into my consciousness besides the intial tears, I'm back to myself and looking forward once again. (There's always that little come-down, the shock, even though you were expecting it, to the system, isn't there?). This weekend, I'll be doing just as you ladies have suggested, with a little gentle self-care, some of this (my current addiction), a visit with these old friends, and yes, there will be red wine.

 

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But let's speak about other frivolities for a moment. I think I have a new celebrity crush. Strictly speaking, I'm not one to get all hot under the collar over far off, celluloid imagery on-screen. I have eyes only for my tall and photogenic husband, a man who so thoroughly defies the 'type' of all my previous romantic entanglements that this is sure proof of just how destined we were for each other. No, I'm the sort of girl who's often been known to make the first move; I deal more in reality than dwelling on fantasy. I don't do crushes.

Nonetheless, I have recently developed an affection for Hugh Jackman that might be described as such. It's not his piercing gaze or his well defined torso that have attracted my attention though. I'm not even sure how many of his movies I've seen. Sure, (apropos my nerdery) I thought the X Men movies were fun, and from what I recall he made an ok Wolverine.

But in a toss up over what to watch when we went to the movies last weekend, I persuaded H of the merits of Les Mis over Lincoln. And I'll be cheering him for an Oscar next month. Frivolous, right?

Really, Jackman gained my admiration when I caught, quite by accident, an interview he did for the promotion of the movie, in which he talks about he and his wife's experiences with infertility, IVF and recurrent miscarriage. (They apparently eventually adopted). He rightly points out the silence that surrounds the topic of miscarriage and how important speaking out is to the grieving process. I continue to think it's all too rare for high profile figures - and society at large - to openly discuss infertility and pregnancy loss, and rarer still for men to do so. It's often wrongly seen as a 'women's thing', and therefore the very real grief that fathers experience can be brushed under the rug as they try to be 'the strong ones' in the equation.

I know many people criticize public figures for 'using' their personal battles as publicity stunts. (See last year's US presidential elections, in which comments directed towards both the Romneys and the Santorums in relation to sharing their own experiences of babyloss were often vitriolic, and I think revealed as much about the discomfort and low tolerance society at large has for discussions of this nature as it did either candidate's profile). So although I'm not one for celluloid fantasy, and I'm certainly no supporter of the Republican party, I am for any opportunity to normalise the experience of those in the ALI community, and to raise the level of discourse around what shouldn't be a taboo topic.

Oh yeah, and I can tell you that the movie really wasn't bad either. Mr. Jackman looks very dashing in those frock coats.

Colour me smitten. Source.