As a collectibles devotee my wife comes across various and sundry pieces of art and frames and such. This particular picture had a cartoon type cat in it with a nice frame. The wife didn't especially like the cat and neither did I. So she goes to replace it and takes out the cardboard backing. The backing is actually a photo of the full length portrait of a young woman in a somewhat skimpy outfit.



The wife took out the cat and put the picture in, a good decision I must agree. Real men are always pushing for progress. She asks me who is in the picture and I said I don't know. It was a very shapely and beautiful woman but I did not recognize her.

"That's Marilyn," she said. I looked and still didn't see it. This woman looked to be nineteen or twenty.

"Look at her mole," said my wife getting frustrated with my apparent lack of perception, "it's Marilyn's mole."

"But the hair is dark brown so this was a photo of her way back before she was a famous Hollywood blonde," I reply.

All would have been fine and dandy had we left it like that but sometimes wives like to rub it in and then do it some more. It's their job. It's what they do.

Every time we would come across any picture of Marilyn she would point the mole out to me. Stupid me. I never before had even noticed Marilyn had a mole. I guess the truth of the matter was I probably wasn't looking at Marilyn's face. Subsequently, I have asked a number of men about Marilyn's mole and no one claims to have any such mole knowledge.

To make matters worse one day the wife points to a picture of Marilyn and glares at me. I smile back.

"Marilyn," I say pretty sure and proud of myself. This one was even blonde.

"Men," she muttered, "the mole, look at the mole. What do you see?"

"I see it" I agreed, "there it is."

"Men," she muttered again, "it's on the wrong side of her face."

I was sure at this point our intellectual conversation was going to cross into the abyss of the utter unknown. I was speechless. Marilyn Monroe said nothing.

"Okay,' then it must be a beauty mark and she changed it to shift her chakra balance," I reply.

"That's really stupid. A beauty mark supposedly would enhance a woman's looks...mostly white women. Mostly pale white women. Maybe men considered it beautiful and that's why she did it. Maybe it was in her contract. Whatever her reason she switched sides."

I was speechless. There was nothing I could add to what had already been said. Sherlock Holmes wins again. It was if each time the dear wife would have to physically point to the mole for me to actually see it. Men. And to eventually verify that yes indeed the mole had jumped from one side of Marilyn's face to the other.

What to make of it? Well, my quick and immediate reaction was not much. It would have to be classified as belonging to that department of totally useless information. The wife was not pleased and being a sensitive husband, I could tell she was not pleased. She felt offended that I would not take such a thing as Marilyn's moving mole very seriously. I was speechless.

There was no way I could sit there and explain just why Marilyn's mole was insignificant in the total scheme of Marilyn. I knew that if I would ever attempt to enter that minefield I would for sure face rather harsh consequences. I was in a marital bind and not looking very good any which way I looked. Finally, it came to me.

"It could have been a retouched photo," I offered, "a mole probably isn't such a big deal to switch. Maybe we should look for more moles," I suggested.

Silence. That was a good sign. It was a good sign in that maybe, just maybe the frustration level would get so high the wife would let it go. Let go of Marilyn's mole that is. I'm sure Marilyn is snickering from heaven, and she must be there for sure, at such silly attention to detail. She would probably let out one of those blondie laughs for which she was famous.

That laugh and now her famous mysterious moving mole.