Pity Party
It’s my birthday. It’s not a monumental birthday like 21, 40 or 65. It’s just a regular ‘between’ birthday. You can’t even find a cute or raunchy card for this birthday, but it’s my birthday just the same. And since it’s my birthday, I am throwing myself a pity party.
Aging starts off slow. You go to bed one night perpetually twenty-one years old, then you wake up and your birthday suit doesn’t quite fit anymore. Then comes the day you knock yourself out while brushing your teeth, because the fat under your arm swings up and hits you in the face.
I decide on this birthday that I will do something about the flab under my arms – not to mention the flab on my tummy and the flab on my thighs. I have friends who wake up at 5:00 in the morning, every morning, and go for a run, do sit-ups, or head to the gym. They are my inspiration. They are female warriors. I decide I want to be like them.
It’s now the next morning; my alarm goes off at 5:00 a.m. I decide my friends are insane. I go back to sleep thinking my body is perfectly fine the way it is. Happy Birthday to me.
Spa Retreat
I spend the weekend at a famous spa. We are supposed to keep a diary of our ‘output’ as our bodies begin the cleansing process. My first journal entry reads, “This is a bunch of crap.” I am asked to contribute positive energy or leave.
The Talk
My son decides to attend boarding school. While running errands for clothes and school supplies, I realize I need to have ‘the talk’ with him.
“Honey?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Never do drugs. Never smoke. Never drink. Never take any pills. Never ever.”
“OK, Mom.”
“And Sweetie?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Never get a girl pregnant. Never have sex. Never touch a girl. Never ever.”
“OK, Mom.”
“And Honey?”
“Mom, can you stop talking now please?”
Spa Retreat Part II
We are supposed to give each other goddess names. I call the woman next to me, “Goddess of No Deodorant.” I am asked to contribute positive energy or leave.
Pity Party Part II
Mirrors now upset me so I try to avoid them. I prefer my reflection in a window. I look good in a window reflection. I look perpetually twenty-one years old in a window reflection. Soon I’ll prefer my image in the door to my microwave or our stainless steel fridge. By the time I am sixty, I will be checking my lipstick with a non-stick frying pan.
The Talk Part II
“Mom?”
“Yes, Sweetie?”
“Did you ever do any of these things when you were my age?”
(silence)
“Mom?”
Spa Retreat Part III
I order wine at dinner but I am told there is no alcohol at this spa. I get up and leave.
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