Before I dive into this, let me first state that I know I’m disappointing many of you, and I’m truly sorry.The you that emailed me and begged me not to reveal my identity because “PittGirl is a superhero and Pittsburgh needs its superhero.” No pressure there. Should I keep my ears peeled for women and children in peril?
The you that twittered that if I outed myself you would personally feed every pigeon in the universe. I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!
The you that was convinced I was a hot blond with giant boobs, oh my God, are YOU a sad panda today?
All of you that just didn’t want to know. I’m sorry. You must understand though that while it is fun for you to not know who I am, being anonymous is no longer any fun for me.
Anonymity is a lonely island where I sit with my computer doing what I love to do most in this world, write, except instead of just enjoying the lovely weather and the cool water lapping at my toes while I wait for David Conrad to cut down a coconut for me, I sit nervously, a bundle of agitation, glancing over my shoulder to be sure no one is watching me from behind, being careful to sign my emails with the right initial (JP not V! JP not V!), making sure over and over again that I’m logged into the Jane Pitt facebook account and not my real one, wondering if today is going to be the day someone figures it out and takes away any control I had over the situation.
It’s exhausting and nerve-wracking and after four years, Mike, my devoted butler and good friend, could hear it in my voice. I had enough.
I didn’t want to write with the weight of PittGirl on my shoulders anymore. “PittGirl” used to be a little flirty silhouette alighting on my shoulder to have a chat over muffins and coffee, but each day she got a little heavier and a little heavier until I was finally crushed under the weight of that fat she-cow. I told you muffins were fatty evil-doers!
Realizing I had enough, I had a few choices:
Door #1: I could keep writing as “PittGirl” understanding it is the dumbest-assest name I have ever heard. People, I CRINGE when I hear someone say PittGirl. Choosing door number 1 meant that I risked every day that someone would out me before I was ready.
Door #2: I could kill “PittGirl” (ME LOVE KILLING, GRR!) in a random pigeon attack, start from scratch under my real name, unbeknown to anyone, and work hard to rebuild an audience. Door number 2 can kiss my ass because it is a super sucky door with rusty, creaky hinges.

Door #3: Be proactive. Come out. Reveal myself. Let the shit hit the fan for a few days and then when it all dies down, figure out what comes next.

This is me, opening Door #3 and hoping there’s not a carrot-munching goat standing behind it taking a poop in some straw.

So let’s get this done, okay? I’m going to give you everything you wanted, not because I feel it is important or newsworthy, but because the more I give, the less digging will need to take place into my personal life. Make sense?

1. My name is Virginia Montanez. My friends and family call me Ginny, but you can continue to call me Your Majesty, because I’ve grown accustomed.

2. I am 35 years old and I hate it so so so so so much because God, I’m effin’ old and I have a Debbie Gibson Pandora station.

3. I work as the communications and marketing director at NEED and have done so for six years now. NEED is a 46-year-old college access program and we have interactions with the Mayor, his staff, UPMC, and other people and organizations that I have written about, and not always kindly. Right now, Yarone Zober is glaring at my picture, slamming his fist on his desk and screaming, “Destroy her!”

4. I have been married since I was 26-years-old when I married my husband David on the beaches of Cancun. David is Mexican. David is hot. David owns Las Velas Restaurant opening next month in Market Square. David understands that I have self-united husbands and he’s okay with that. David did not know I had a blog until over a year after I started it and I finally told him.

5. I have two children, a boy who is 6 and a girl who is 2. HOLY SHIT, PITTGIRL IS A MOM! Remember in December of 2006 when I indicated I would be away for two weeks so that Mike could work a bit on the blog template? Baby-birthing time. That sound you hear is of my former stalkers now running for the hills all, “SHE’S A MOOOOOM! Why, God? WHY?!”

6. I wrote extensively about my four sisters and I love them dearly. Would you like to meet them?

This is the oldest, Ta-Ta the Giant-Breasted Grand Poobah.