You know how you can feel "some kinda way," but not really know why? It finally hit me why I'm feeling some kinda way today.
I am officially old.
Now, I must admit that this wasn't a new revelation. As a human, I've been aging since the day I was born. I fight it to the death with hair dye, cute clothes, etc. But yesterday -- the same day I would've celebrated my one-year anniversary with New Boo -- I found out that I need new glasses. Not just ANY new glasses. I need progressive lenses. If you're not familiar with that terminology, it's basically the new way to say you need bifocals.
I was crushed, to say the least.
Here I am, a single woman with no children and no prospects for a husband with graying hair and now a need for bifocals. Who the hell is going to want me now? What the hell am I supposed to do? With every other thing that's happened this year, I think I've tried to be positive and hold on to hope that it could happen for me. This diagnosis -- while I was able to be pleasant at my doctor's office -- really has sent me into a tailspin.
It's almost like saying that everything I ever wanted has officially passed me by.
Maybe I'm overreacting. I know it's possible. But I really don't know what to do. And of course, there's really no one I can talk to that'll understand exactly how I feel. Everyone will try to tell me that my life isn't over. And they'll be right -- a prescription for progressive lenses isn't a cancer diagnosis. But right now, it feels as life-ending.
If the glasses don't look good, I'll never be able to go out again -- at least not to the lounges and clubs reserved for my younger friends. If I was safely ensconced in a marriage -- or at the very least a relationship with potential -- I could talk to my man about it and he could tell me that I was crazy or that it really doesn't matter because he loves me just the way I am.
So here I am...stuck with the sum total of my thoughts. In most cultures, this would be an ice cream, wine, or some other vice kinda night. But I kinda don't want to do that. I kinda want to make the wings I thawed out and get some McDonald's fries to go with them. That way, I can be semi-healthy as I wallow.
And yes, I'm going to wallow tonight. But once it's over, I'm going back to my life. I'm going to remember that I'm loved regardless of whether I have a man in my life. I'm going to try to figure out how I can be nice to all the kids in my life so that they won't scoff at caring for me when I get too old to do it myself. And I'm going to remember that I'm enough and I'm okay just the way I am.
That's tomorrow. Tonight, we wallow.
I am officially old.
Now, I must admit that this wasn't a new revelation. As a human, I've been aging since the day I was born. I fight it to the death with hair dye, cute clothes, etc. But yesterday -- the same day I would've celebrated my one-year anniversary with New Boo -- I found out that I need new glasses. Not just ANY new glasses. I need progressive lenses. If you're not familiar with that terminology, it's basically the new way to say you need bifocals.
I was crushed, to say the least.
Here I am, a single woman with no children and no prospects for a husband with graying hair and now a need for bifocals. Who the hell is going to want me now? What the hell am I supposed to do? With every other thing that's happened this year, I think I've tried to be positive and hold on to hope that it could happen for me. This diagnosis -- while I was able to be pleasant at my doctor's office -- really has sent me into a tailspin.
It's almost like saying that everything I ever wanted has officially passed me by.
Maybe I'm overreacting. I know it's possible. But I really don't know what to do. And of course, there's really no one I can talk to that'll understand exactly how I feel. Everyone will try to tell me that my life isn't over. And they'll be right -- a prescription for progressive lenses isn't a cancer diagnosis. But right now, it feels as life-ending.
If the glasses don't look good, I'll never be able to go out again -- at least not to the lounges and clubs reserved for my younger friends. If I was safely ensconced in a marriage -- or at the very least a relationship with potential -- I could talk to my man about it and he could tell me that I was crazy or that it really doesn't matter because he loves me just the way I am.
So here I am...stuck with the sum total of my thoughts. In most cultures, this would be an ice cream, wine, or some other vice kinda night. But I kinda don't want to do that. I kinda want to make the wings I thawed out and get some McDonald's fries to go with them. That way, I can be semi-healthy as I wallow.
And yes, I'm going to wallow tonight. But once it's over, I'm going back to my life. I'm going to remember that I'm loved regardless of whether I have a man in my life. I'm going to try to figure out how I can be nice to all the kids in my life so that they won't scoff at caring for me when I get too old to do it myself. And I'm going to remember that I'm enough and I'm okay just the way I am.
That's tomorrow. Tonight, we wallow.
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