As only the great Barbra can say it, that’s how I felt last week.
The day I expressed my outrage here over the media’s treatment of Ashley Judd, this lil blog became a tad more popular. Friends posted it on Facebook and tweeted it here and there (thank you, everyone!), and the numbers began climbing.
That afternoon, before I left for the gym, I’d had 60+ visitors, well above my modest but loyal following of 20 or so lovelies. (Hi Mom!) Excited, I hoped for breaking 75 or so by that evening.
Side note: Yes, bloggers care if people read their stuff. Well, I do, anyways. I’d like you to “like” me, read me and, should I ever finish a novel, buy me. I like praise. I like hugs. And I like kittens. Ya know, in case you were wondering…
When I came back an hour later, I checked in again, hoping for good news. I blinked.
“Well, that’s obviously wrong. Stupid WordPress, now what have they mixed up?” I turned the browser off and on and reloaded the page.
I blinked again. The number was higher.
Noooo… I tried to breathe. I hit refresh again. This time, it came in at 538.
I walked slowly to the kitchen, slowly drank a glass of water, and slowly approached the computer again. In case of hidden cameras, I tried to appear calm, collected.
What’s going on? I scanned my list of referrers and my heart stopped. Halfway down the list, I see the words “ashleyjudd.com.”
After 30 seconds of jumping up and down, I did what any self-respecting girl in her 15-minute brush with fame would do. I called my mommy.
An hour later, and well into the 700′s, my hubby came home. After babbling excitedly with both mom and two girlfriends, all of whom loyally jumped right into my jumping frenzy, I felt sure JP would be thrilled too.
He looked at the screen. He looked at my enthusiastic face. He said, “That’s nice.” And then walked into the kitchen, asking over his shoulder what was for dinner.
Ummm, dinner? Someone in Armenia and several someones in the Philippines clicked on my blog, and you want dinner? Frustrated, I said something flippant like, “It figures you wouldn’t be excited for me. You don’t understand,” and stalked off to take a shower.
Twenty minutes later, I came back, less sweaty, but only slightly less indignant. I found dinner on the stove. And a sign hanging from our kitchen doorway.
My stats have returned to normal land, but the sign still hangs there and he still jokes about hitting his head against some excitement. I won’t be taking it down anytime soon.
Thank you to all for visiting! And especially to those who spoke out against media bullying of “beauty.” We made a statement!