But you already knew that, right?
Because ALL of you read about it here. You already know that I am a half-breed — or should I say “part-breed,” for that is the term I coined in that popular post.
So it seems everyone knew.
Everyone but Dave, my husband of 20 years.
But then we received this photo from my mother-in-law:
Dave: “When did I marry a black woman?”
Because LOOK: From right to left, we have Dave, his lovely mom — whose 85th birthday we were celebrating one week ago today – and . . . oh, but who is that dusky jewel to the far left?
It’s me, JD.
Yes, I am apparently now black. Or African American. Or a woman of color. Some sort of exotic blend of possibly royal African blood or maybe my (also royal) Cherokee heritage has begun to emerge. Obviously it’s starting at my head and working its way down, because my arm hasn’t caught up yet or something.
For years, people thought I was Irish because of my freckles and reddish hair.
I am not Irish, and I think this photo proves it. Compare my color to Dave and his mom. This is not Photoshop trickery, nor is it bad lighting. This is the real me: JD, Mysterious Woman of Color(ed Head).
The fact that I seem to have only one leg adds to the exoticness . . . right?
African goddess came from here