Life has passed me by
I have friends (my age) whose children are graduating from high school this year. Well, the one I'm thinking of specifically isn't the biological father, but still, he missed it by only a couple of years. She won the top honors in the beauty pageant at the local fair, by the way.
My first impulse when I hear about those girls and their mothers pursuing beauty pageant crowns like they're hunting is to think, how vain they all must be.
On the other hand, I have to admit that not having children, specifically daughters, I'm sure that I just can't grasp the correct perspective to not see it as an exercise in vanity. Perhaps it is just my complete ignorance.
I grew up knowing better than to even entertain that notion for myself. Not only were all the boys in the neighborhood constantly telling me I was ugly, but so was my stepmother, and my sister. Nobody ever said anything to the contrary, so I've never truly felt attractive. Not cute, not pretty, and ha ha, definitely not beautiful. It's far too late for any male to brainwash me into thinking otherwise, but by the same token, why would any of them bother?
I can remember when girls my age started dreamily browsing the bridal magazines. Some of them would even buy them when they found that perfect, dreamy wedding gown. I never did look at the dresses, because I was honestly afraid I'd jinx myself. I never wrote my potential new full name when I became interested in someone, like I've seen so many girls do.
I guess I was always afraid to dream about the future, because I had a feeling that if I did, the inevitable disappointment would absolutely crush me. It didn't stop me from trying occasionally, but I always dated warily, as if I were holding my breath and wondering if I'd see the end approaching, or if the guy would blindside me with it. Ambush is REALLY common.
It's crude to put it in these terms, but it seems that they were all just interested in my breasts. Any attempt to get to know me was just to aid in that ridiculous quest to see the gigantic boobs. Even in their 30s and 40s, I've realized that was what they were up to. Not that I'm thinking, oh, they're SO glorious that men are just dying to see them. It's more like freak show appeal. Yeah, they think I'm a freak.
I probably am, considering that I've had a significant breast reduction in the last 10 years, and guess what? They grew back. They really did. They keep on growing even if I'm lucky enough to be losing weight. Yeah, freakish sideshow attraction. That's me. They make me look 4 feet tall and 300 pounds.
The thought has crossed my mind in the last few days that instead of trying to lose weight and look better for some man that's never going to appear in my life, maybe I should just do all the self-destructive things that I know will wind up killing me at a young age.
I'm starting to have hypoglycemia at work even when I've eaten, and I'm having a hard time raising my blood sugar when it happens. The last time, instead of a little instant sugar boost helping me feel better in about 5 minutes, it took 2 hours. I was finishing my lunch and my hands were still shaking and I was feeling faint.
Even then I was thinking, here it comes. Full-blown diabetes. And then came that evil little thought floating around in my head: So what? Why not just let it happen and get it all over with? There's nothing waiting around in the future for you anyway so why prolong it? I could probably let my glucose level get so low that I'd take a nice nap which lapses into a diabetic coma and that would be all. It wouldn't be that hard to do, actually.
My first impulse when I hear about those girls and their mothers pursuing beauty pageant crowns like they're hunting is to think, how vain they all must be.
On the other hand, I have to admit that not having children, specifically daughters, I'm sure that I just can't grasp the correct perspective to not see it as an exercise in vanity. Perhaps it is just my complete ignorance.
I grew up knowing better than to even entertain that notion for myself. Not only were all the boys in the neighborhood constantly telling me I was ugly, but so was my stepmother, and my sister. Nobody ever said anything to the contrary, so I've never truly felt attractive. Not cute, not pretty, and ha ha, definitely not beautiful. It's far too late for any male to brainwash me into thinking otherwise, but by the same token, why would any of them bother?
I can remember when girls my age started dreamily browsing the bridal magazines. Some of them would even buy them when they found that perfect, dreamy wedding gown. I never did look at the dresses, because I was honestly afraid I'd jinx myself. I never wrote my potential new full name when I became interested in someone, like I've seen so many girls do.
I guess I was always afraid to dream about the future, because I had a feeling that if I did, the inevitable disappointment would absolutely crush me. It didn't stop me from trying occasionally, but I always dated warily, as if I were holding my breath and wondering if I'd see the end approaching, or if the guy would blindside me with it. Ambush is REALLY common.
It's crude to put it in these terms, but it seems that they were all just interested in my breasts. Any attempt to get to know me was just to aid in that ridiculous quest to see the gigantic boobs. Even in their 30s and 40s, I've realized that was what they were up to. Not that I'm thinking, oh, they're SO glorious that men are just dying to see them. It's more like freak show appeal. Yeah, they think I'm a freak.
I probably am, considering that I've had a significant breast reduction in the last 10 years, and guess what? They grew back. They really did. They keep on growing even if I'm lucky enough to be losing weight. Yeah, freakish sideshow attraction. That's me. They make me look 4 feet tall and 300 pounds.
The thought has crossed my mind in the last few days that instead of trying to lose weight and look better for some man that's never going to appear in my life, maybe I should just do all the self-destructive things that I know will wind up killing me at a young age.
I'm starting to have hypoglycemia at work even when I've eaten, and I'm having a hard time raising my blood sugar when it happens. The last time, instead of a little instant sugar boost helping me feel better in about 5 minutes, it took 2 hours. I was finishing my lunch and my hands were still shaking and I was feeling faint.
Even then I was thinking, here it comes. Full-blown diabetes. And then came that evil little thought floating around in my head: So what? Why not just let it happen and get it all over with? There's nothing waiting around in the future for you anyway so why prolong it? I could probably let my glucose level get so low that I'd take a nice nap which lapses into a diabetic coma and that would be all. It wouldn't be that hard to do, actually.
posted by Me at 8:48 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home