This is a rant.
If you cannot handle a rant, move on.
This will not be one of my spiritual discussions or give you instructions on how to weave a teepee. There are no recipes, or helpful hints…
It’s a rant…..
She leaned in close over the counter, across the cash register, into my cheek and quietly questioned’ ” How old are you?”
“19 ” I answered gleefully with a grin.
” No really, she replied, ” I need to know whether or not to supply your discount”
” Dis…. count?”
” Yes, Your senior discount”
” I am 45. I answered” ” Only 45″
In the parking lot toward the car, Cowboy said nothing but wore a type of grin that could only be the kind that holds back boatloads of marital devastation and weeks on the couch.
” Jerk” I told him.
No one spoke on the 45 minute ride except to change the radio station that was verbally diagramming an upcoming colonoscopy.
I sent a text message to my BFF. :” the lady at the grocery store just offered to give me a senior discount”
BFF replied ” did you punch her in the throat?”
I liked that very much. The kind of response I was not expecting but was grateful for. It was much better than the self loathing I was experiencing at that moment or the forgive thy neighbor speech I was expecting.
WHAT THE H*&*)^&*(&^*? Just happened? It’s just…. I mean…. Huh? God, Creator of the Universe…. Please, start explaining yourself?
The immediate answer is certainly wine. And chocolate… and what difference does it make now anyway? Apparently I’m done for.
I mean I weigh 135 pounds and the more I think about it the more I am convinced, that at my age, if I lose that 15- 20 lbs that my BMI says I should, I would just look like someone let the air out of my face and behind. I feel as if I need to maintain this 135 just so I look like a normal human being. How many chins do I really need?
I am already charting the wrinkles on my face and naming them like newly discovered star systems and I appear to have hail damage on my thighs and wings that could rival a large prehistoric bird. I have already had to give up bras and thongs( lovingly refered to here as butt floss ) and I own two pairs of spanx. There are hairs turning gray everywhere. I don’t even own a uterus anymore. I am a big ole fat phony… I have some mean dental work, Fake hair color, a fake fanny half the time, Spackle for my face with age defying nutrients and a brazier that pushes my bosom from my navel to my chin and through it all…. I have maintained that I am only as old as I feel.
I guess I need to just do this gracefully instead of making excuses for everything. Maybe it’s time I just embraced it all and run out and get some polyester stretch band pants and a velour jogging suit. Maybe I should just accept that the walking farts have nothing to do with what I eat and much more to do with the fact that I can get the freaking senior discount. Maybe I need to accept that getting bifocals is what old people who can’t see to read or drive do. That fact that I cannot remember my kids names or where I am supposed to be is not lack of sleep, it’s menopause. Hot flashes are not about my sex life, they are about the fact that cob webs are forming in terrible places. Mood swings, irrational angst, new spots I don’t understand that wont wash off and I pee when I sneeze; again …. WHAT THE H*&*)^&*(&^*? Just happened?
Perhaps I should just give into my irrational thoughts: All the mood swings, cry like a baby. kill like a ninja, eat your young, menopausal urges. Ugly words just pour out of my mouth like water from a faucet and I am drawn to cupcakes, lattes and chocolate covered potato chips like a mouse on a Cheeto.
. For example, other day I was in the grocery store and this 25-year-old mom with her butt still in the “zone” and the most amazing chesticals I have ever seen with a Kardashian face and a basket full of Chocolate, buttery goodness, told her 4-year-old to let the older lady through because it was right to honor your elders. ALL I wanted to do was to turn around, get a running start and ram her with my shopping cart and when she was on the ground.. steal her HOHO’s. What is wrong with me?
And Cowboy?…. The big jerk just gets better, sexier and more distinguished. He is wiser and stable and kinder in his old age. He is all laughter and morning Kickapoo joy. He is aging beautifully with no mood swings or hot flashes. He is secure in who he is and a fantastic specimen of manhood. He looks fabulous in his wranglers. Handsome. Wonderful…. and frankly, I am sick of his crap. Age a little will you. Have a fit. Get some gray hair… have a hot flash, be unreasonable, complain about your butt being too close to the ground; cry or something….. anything to show me some support. Jerk. He is so selfish.