Okay, this is silly. I can say I love myself today. Oh.. and yes, I mean it. Wrinkles, judgments on me for my past and all. Something I wonder sometimes, and please, no, I’m not obsessed, but in the last two days wonder. Why did Karen Carpenter not know how to stop before she ended what was so beautiful. Okay, there were her songs with her brother, but there was also her. Karen. Not drop-dead, Botox-ed, freakishly re-done, just beautiful in all of her performances, and what exuded and IN ALL HER IMPERFECTIONS. She taught me a lot in a way I can’t explain. I was 18. She was 30ish (think 31)… history to follow. I tried to figure out why she did what she did while I was doing it. I wasn’t at the point she got to. It doesn’t happen overnight. It happens over years. It’s too encompassing.
I wish I could meet her brother. I wish I could ask him if she ever opened up to him about all this strange internalized feelings we mirrored into food. I wish. I had, as I said in an earlier blog, their first album. She was my role model, the “perfect, beautiful, smiling, not-so-perfect, but so perfect in her imperfections… “… Karen, thank you. Wish we could have spoken, but I understand you now. Thank you for being my friend.