I am watching a mini-war from my balcony. (Actually, I just caught a couple of missiles? rockets? flares? flashing bright red in the night sky accompanied by loud but distant booming – no I am not joking. It really is a mini-war.)
I have been wanting to post for days but I can never organize my thoughts enough to sit down and write coherently and in sequences other people can follow. Tonight however I’ve decided to forget about sequence and coherence and just write because I’ve missed blogging.
I’m going to be
riding an emotional roller coaster visiting my parents for a week, starting the day before yesterday. There are a bunch of things going on at House November at the moment. My younger sister wants to get married and the circumstances are a little complicated. My father is turning 73 today and thinking about death. Someone in our extended family just died and he was at the funeral yesterday, which definitely doesn’t help his case at all. My mother is a sweetheart and I love her to pieces, but she is sometimes crazy and without malintent, manages to make already bad situations a lot worse.
Besides the political clashes that I can see evidence of from my balcony, there is a mini-war going on between my father and my sister in House November. My mother is like a guerrilla group, not part of the main conflict but having her own agenda that doesn’t quite fit in with the situation at hand. She tends to push tension levels higher. Sometimes she also fucks up the cease fire.
I am the quiet country in the middle trying to mind my own business. Quite often, I am a casualty in the cross fire. It is not always pleasant.
Yesterday, I was hit three times.
1) I was told by extended family that I am fat. I am most definitely pudgy. Ok, maybe I’m a little round. I’ve been fat. I was fat at 19. Really fat. I’m nowhere near that fat today, I’ve made sure. There’s a whole complex set of issues that come with having been a girl that big. I didn’t exactly lose it all the healthy way. I made it all the way to thin. I gained some weight back during a month long war when my fiancé, and loads of other people, were forced to leave the country like fugitives. I lost some of that weight when I broke off my engagement. I gained and lost and gained weight while I rebounded from that disaster, with a Mr. Oaf, from which I learned that I happen to suck at rebounding.
I gained weight when I first started dating Nook. Now I’m losing it again, because having had to go on a low cholesterol diet, I have been choosing what I eat and how much of it I eat.
Here’s the thing: I love food. I love cooking it and I love ordering it at restaurants, I love the way food looks, smells, and tastes and I love fucking eating it. I am going to eat. I do not need to be told that I am fat, or not to get fat so that someday Prince Charming will pick my wafer thin waist out of a crowd. If you have a wafer thin waist then yay for you. You get to eat more. Of that, I am jealous.
First of all, I have Nook. That’s pretty damn near close to Prince Charming. Second, if Prince Charming’s criteria for choosing a woman revolves around waist size, then fuck him. There will be no super slim pickings over here.
I will lose weight until I feel comfortable and my test results come back normal. Then I’m going to bake (or buy) myself the biggest, richest, most buttery cake ever and eat it straight out of the box while sitting in my inflatable kiddie pool. Pretty.
2) During an argument with my sister concerning the November family inheritance, my mother told her that I will probably never get married or bear heirs.
I want to get married and maybe bear one heir. Actually, my va-jay-jay isn’t too sure about heirs. It shudders at the thought of insurmountable pain. All that Kegel muscle training urged upon me by many, many women’s magazines gone to waste. No, it definitely does not want to bear heirs today. Or next week. Or in a month. Maybe in a couple of years, when I’m focused and going in one direction rather than in twenty different ones. BUT NOT NEVER MOM!
3) When I finally asked my father why he keeps pushing this marriage thing with me he said, “I want to hold just one of your kids before I die.” This really tore me up inside. With all that’s going on at work and in the family right now, this is the last thing that he needs to be worrying about. But he’s worrying. And I feel terrible about it.
After being told that I was likely going to be fat, alone, and childless forever my spirits were dampened a little. Ok. A lot. And yes they didn’t mean it, but you can’t help how you feel can you? So I typed “30 and umarried” (I often do this when something makes me sad) into Google hoping to read something that might make me feel better and ended up with this article. I went from feeling miserable to being on the verge of tears. My brain was fogged by my emotions, but then I read the comments and the “About” page and I finally got it!
For those of you who don’t have the time to check it out, here’s a little tidbit. Men should be equally insulted.
“There is one group of men out there who are more likely to look favorably on the idea of a more mature woman with a career, and possibly having a kid or two with her. Given the financial, emotional and practical realities of divorce and custody issues, divorced fathers are a relatively easy catch for a woman who is past her prime mating and marriage years.”
“Although single mothers are almost universally made out to be victims in mainstream culture, these days the opposite is generally the truth — they have victimized some man in their life with no regard for him or even the children she had with him. Men rarely do that, and they are prevented from doing so by the law in any event, so a single father is not much of a risk in that regard.”
It’s a site for bitter men. There are similar ones for bitter women. It makes about as much sense as the idea of “legitimate” and “illegitimate” rape that’s all over the news today. I can’t even bring myself to quote some of the comments I read at the end.
I am grateful for the article and the people who commented because I scoffed myself right out of my misery.
I have given myself a period of one month to weigh my options before submitting my resignation from my post as User of No Brain Cells at Dead-End Job Ltd. One of the more recent options that have surfaced involves starting a new Masters program. That is something I may decide to do, but I am still uncertain. There is only one thing on my agenda that I am completely sure of right now.
Come November, NaNoWriMo will be upon us. (Yes, I was being cute. Also, get it?) I entered last year but I never managed to finish, the same way I signed up for this blog almost two years ago in preparation for NaNoWriMo but never wrote a word.
I’m glad that I finally started posting here and although I don’t know where it’s going, I will keep at it. I also plan to complete my 50,000 words. Then I am going to proofread and edit. I will ask Nook proofread and edit. I will ask anyone who has the time for and is willing to read it, to proofread and edit. Then I will edit again.
Come November, I will also turn 30. (Okay, that is the last time I will ever do that, I promise.) Who knows? Maybe a fat, childless, husbandless, “old” woman like me could get lucky at 30.