Shallow-o-meter

images-1.jpg

HORROR!!!

*sigh* I am developing a wrinkle around my lips. In fact, I have developed a wrinkle around my lips. By the time you notice that shit, it’s set it. No getting rid of it now. Oh, I’m lathering it up with lotions, trying to minimize it, trying to keep it from getting deeper into my skin, but I know there’s really no use. It’s there. Welcome to my face.

The first time I saw a tiny crow’s foot begin around my eyes I felt similarly. A bit of panic – when did that get to be there? A bit of self blame – should have taken better care of yourself, missy. A bit of acceptance – oh goddess, I AM getting old, aren’t I? Maybe that happens with every wrinkle. Of course, THAT thought doesn’t make me feel great, either. You mean I’m gonna feel this way every time a new line shows up on my face? Yeesh!

Oh, I am a shallow bitch.

I guess you never really know where you sit on the shallow scale until you hit an older age and everything starts to sag a bit. Or does this aging process bother everyone equally? I’ve never asked another woman if her wrinkles bother her. And why should I? Seems half the time the answer will be ‘oh, yes, and I’m getting botoxed for my birthday’ or ‘yes, and someday I’ll have a little nip and tuck’ like pumping poison into our skin or getting sliced and diced for the sake of “beauty” is in any way normal. Do not need to hear that shit. The other half of the time seems to be this breezy acceptance of aging and wrinkles, something I’m afraid is just a bit too above my level of self confidence. I want to feel that way. But I still think ‘horror!’ when I see my wrinkles in the mirror.

Shallow, shallow, shallow.

Took most of the weekend to recoup from my super-push last week. Pumped up on homemade chicken soup in case I’d been exposed to something – an awful lot of people are getting sick right now. Took it easy on my walks, easy on the stairs, no sweating, no panting. Slept a lot. Still need to watch myself this week, but I feel ready to start my work.

Did myself the favor yesterday of heading down to find the theatre I’m supposed to show up at tonight. I didn’t find it, but I did find where I’m not supposed to go, which is almost as good. My instincts led me wrong but I know now where I went wrong and feel confident I’ll be able to find the correct building even tho it’ll be dusk. Going to make a bit of an effort – this afternoon one of my chores is to haul out the ironing board so I can iron the blouse I want to wear tonight. First impressions and all that. Okay….I’m a little nervous. Public space, a lot of people I don’t know at all, and all of it back in the world of theatre which I left decades ago. I’ll be leaving early tonight, and taking a J to toke up outside while I wait. That’s the bald truth.

On Thursday I tried to talk to a fellow classmate during our language lesson break. I walked down to the ground level and there she was, sitting alone at a table. So naturally I joined her with a bright hello in Dutch, ready to make small talk with our limited language abilities. I’ll give it to her; we managed to get through the standard questions of where are you from, are you married and do you have children before I found out exactly WHY she was sitting alone. One word: God. She’s a religious freak. Once God was mentioned – and she brought it up – that was it. There was no other topic of conversation because everything came back to ‘the Lord’. And she revealed her self-righteousness to me by saying that she would pray for me, that I needed to take her God into my soul, but that even if I didn’t do that she wouldn’t judge me although I was certain to head straight to Hell. For fuck’s sake! I did NOT roll my eyes – I should receive a medal for that self restraint. I did have to resort to my standard ‘if your God is that judging I don’t want to go to his Heaven’ line which naturally she didn’t like one bit. So much for that. Pity. She speaks English, so if she’d not been such a hard ass we might have become friends. But I’m sorry….I can’t be a friend to someone who straight up tells me they think I’m a bad person because I don’t believe in a white fatherly figure in a toga being all powerful. No matter how often she told me she wasn’t judging me, it was pretty fucking evident she was.

Hoping I meet a different set of people tonight. I’ve nothing against my fellow classmates, but I have found that highly religious people and I don’t really get along. And a LOT of the people in my language class are highly religious, adhering to one dogma or another. While I feel a bit desperate for friends I’m not ready to give lip service to a bunch of crap just for a bit of company. I’m not ready to tone myself down. Damn it all anyway! I’ve been working all my life to really come out, really be ME. The very last thing I need is some uptight religious freak telling me I shouldn’t do or say or be this or that because it offends their God. Not one of them seems to understand the hypocrisy they mouth every time they say something like that.

Now THAT hits an eleven on the shallow-o-meter. So shallow you don’t even know you’re shallow.

Guess all my fretting over my face only ranks a 7.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Shallow-o-meter

  1. I get your hostility towards “God’s”creatures, like they have exclusive rights or something. I hope that you find someone to socialize with in theatre. You deserve to be able to enjoy something without the interjection of someone else’s completely off the subject belief system.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks. I’d like that, too. Feels like it’s been too long a time since I’ve really had a friend IRL. Made plenty on line, but everyone needs at least one friend really there – or at least, that’s what I think.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s