Under my skirt you'll find

You honestly think I'm going to tell you what's actually covering my bottom? Well, guess again. What happens in Chez Margalit stays in Chez Margalit. I'm also not going to talk about hemorrhoids or the state of my pubic hair. Nor will I describe my underwear, and for that you should all be eternally grateful. Let us just say that Target is my underwear store of choice. Okay?

What I will talk about it what's under my persona. Much of what I post here doesn't give you a hint as to who I actually am. I know that people form strange impressions of bloggers from what tidbits they glean on the sites they read. From me, you've probably figured out that I'm a reader, gardener, love TV, and have two quirky kids. You know I have strong opinions, that I'm a fighter, and I don't give in easily. I'm verbose. Sometimes I'm funny, lots of time I am not.

You don't know that I'm incredibly introverted. Oh yeah, I am. I'm very shy, I have serious social anxiety, I hate crowds unless they're ball games or concerts where you don't have to make small talk. I do not do small talk well. I can't stand weddings and bar mitzvahs and places where you not only have to be happy, but you have to talk to people and be pleasant. I don't feel pleasant in situations like that. I just feel the need to flee as fast as I can until I'm in a safe place.

I'm also uber-emotional. I cry very easily, and not just at sad things. Blackbird often posts stuff that makes me cry, that wench. My kids love to talk about some of my sob fests. The last episode of NYPD Blue left me incapable of speech for days. I cannot see Jimmy Smits without getting tears in my eyes and thinking of when Bobbie died. I'm not an emotional wreck. Most of the time I'm just fine. But I have a fine sense of beauty, probably well over the top, and when I see things that are beautiful, I cry. Do not ever ask to accompany me to the Musee D'Orsay, for example. Sob fest. I don't do well at sad places. I'm the person that fell to the floor in agony, sobbing my eyes out at Anne Frank's House in Amsterdam. Yad Vashem? Oh my God, never again. I get teary eyed at synagogue when Etz Chiam Hi is sung. Every single time. For years.

I am very silly. I know, that's a surprise. But I am. I keep my kids in stitches much of the time because I have a very sharp sense of humor, I'm sarcastic as hell, and I make very funny faces. Now that my kids are older, I can reduce them to puddles of gel just by doing something silly. I like to be silly, too. Especially when we play the Nose Game. I can get them to laughing so hard that I win every freaking time. It's a rare talent!

Underneath my skirt you'll find a whole person. One with a lot of feelings. One with a lot of talents. One that does good things, tries hard to be a good person, loves her family beyond all understanding, and one that often doesn't appear on this blog. There's so much more to all of us than what we share. There's so much more of me than I'll ever share. I'm a very private person. Most of my very long time friends know very little about me. That's fine. I am happy with how I am. Nobody needs to see everything under my skirt.

Written for the Parent Blogger's Network and Sk*rt, who are sponsoring this What's Under my Sk*ort contest. Sk*rt is the new "womens" DIGG-type site, where you can vote for posts that you like. Be sure to go on over and join Sk*rt and vote for my post! Thanks for reading.

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