Frank rose reluctantly from the chair as I clicked off the television. It was 10:30 pm on Wednesday night, way past our bedtime. Usually, I am very strict about getting in bed by 10. I have my routine and I need my sleep. This night I stayed up against my better judgement to watch a 30-minute television special on Shania Twain.
Frank and I sat side by side through the story of her childhood in Canada. We saw film clips of her early singing performances when she looked like she could use braces. The story covered the sudden death of her parents and her return to her hometown to raise her younger brothers. When she got back to her singing career the show documented her meteoric rise to stardom. In the clips from recent years, she is beautiful. In the music videos she bears her trim midriff and swings her long wavy hair. She strides around in slinky velvet and flowing chiffon gowns. She is humble yet glamorous, outspoken yet sensual. At the end of the timeline documentary she sings, “That don’t impress me much,” and walks through the video wearing a lycra leopard skin outfit with matching hat box.
I like Shania and her music, but her slim waist and bare belly button haunt me. I ease up from my overstuffed television chair and amble toward the bed in my white athletic socks. The 5-year-old shapeless burgundy night shirt I’m wearing used to have satin covered buttons at the neck, but the satin covers have fallen off leaving plastic white nubbins behind. Although it’s August I stand by the bed and spread a quilt over my side because my feet always get cold in the night. I am just trying to decide whether or not to get a Kleenex and blow my nose before I climb into bed when my husband says, “You know what I love about Shania?”
I look at him in dismay. It is past my bedtime already and I’m thinking let’s just be brief and tell me what you don’t like about Shania. He’s smiling, though, so I straighten my hunched shoulders and make a weak stab, “She has a nice voice?”
“Sure, she has a nice voice, but the best part is that she’s vertically integrated. Her husband Mutt produces the music, they write the songs together and she sings them. That’s so smart. It’s just as good as having a wife who’s a nephrologist.”
I love him.