Suburbanly Incorrect

Bladder Matters

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I  turned 50 in July. That was 6 months ago .  From the day that I turned 49 I have been talking about turning 50. Truth be told  from the day I  turned 45 I have been saying I am almost 50. There are so many shitty things about turning 50 I could go on and on, yet,  I am aware the alternative sucks so I should be happy. I am healthy and above ground. Is this what happens after 40? You start setting the bar really low that just breathing is your barometer? I have been struggling with the whole menopause thing recently. I can own that I am old and things are changing. I am trying to handle each change one at a time attacking from every angle.  Sort of.

Weight gain, I have battled that my whole life. My hair changing?  I have complained about that incessantly for the last year I am over it. Even my random hot flashes, I dress in layers shedding as I go along. I can’t really say I have my mood swings under any kind of control but I think my family is learning to deal with that. I notice they hide out a lot more to escape me regardless of my crying or yelling. Pretty much only my dog has escaped my wrath and that is because he had cancer.

All of these things I can handle but my random peeing is where I draw the line. This has sent me over the edge. At first it was random squirts. When I was attempting jumping jacks at the gym, or when I sneezed or laughed. But then it was more frequent, like always. I ran a half marathon and I am pretty sure I was slowly leaking the entire time. At first I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or pee, it was kind of cold out so it was hard to tell. It wasn’t like there was smoke coming from between my legs, it was just wet and not in a good way. Nothing says “Hello old timer” like getting in your car and realizing you smell like the nursing home you used to visit your grandmother at. I now understand why older people smell like urine all the time and that totally freaked me out.

Right after that race I Called my doctor and said this is a 911. My doctor is used to me calling with emergencies. Our last emergency was my hair breakage. I had to explain it was not just my hair breakage, it was my dry skin, emotional outburst, fits of hysteria, sleepless nights and overwhelming appetite.  The bloodwork showed what I already knew.  I was going through menopause. I swear I should have gone to medical school, I definitely missed my calling.

After a series of questions we determined I need to see a urologist. My doctor is in the city and I just did not have the energy to trek into NY during holiday season for something that can be figured out 2 miles from my house. I got some recommendations and off I went.

When I got into the waiting room I looked around and realized A. I was the only woman here and B. the average age of the patient was 75.  Once I got into the room the nurse had me empty my bladder so she could do a sonogram. She then proceeded to do a sonogram of my bladder. She turned to me and said,” you didn’t empty your bladder”.  I replied back to her, “Yes I did, I have nothing in there”. Her response?  “Hmm. Ok.”

WTF?? “Hm Ok?” what did she see ? Do I have a tumor? Is there a leprachaun hiding a pot of gold? What is in there? As I am planning my eulogy the doctor walks in. She is about 25. Maybe younger. Was she some kind of prodigy? Seriously, she looked a few years older than my teenage daughter. And she was like a piece of wonder bread. I need some bedside manner, some personality. Give me something. You are about to stick your head in my Hooha please have a personality. No dice.  No-one had been downtown other than my doctor and husband in over 20 years so I was slightly self conscious about what she may see in there. It’s usual visitors know how to deal with me should they find something unexpected.

She pulled her head out of my crotch and said “ok your urethra moved.”  Awesome. What does that mean? Well, with childbirth and now menopause things are moving and dropping. All I could hear was Walt Frazier calling a knicks game. Look at Amy’s urethra moving and grooving, shaking and baking dropping pee with every step. Ok, great what can we do to fix this.

The remedy? Physical therapy. What? Im not going to physical therapy for my HooHa. I dont have the time or patience to sit at a red light let alone PT for my HooHa. I kindly explained to Doogie Howser that this was not going to happen, please give me another option and do I need surgery? As a  a bottom line person I needed this doctor to give it to me straight. She proceeded to tell me that I will know when the time is right, when I will need surgery. And then she handed me a book and my dignity and sent me on my way.

I sat in my car flipping through my “Fun with Dick and Jane”version of losing your self-respect and  realized I had a few choices. Choice #1. take the Dr’s. advice and go find some physical therapist, #2 , shrivel up and cry or #3,  throw the book in the junk drawer and pretend like this day never happened.

I chose the last option. It has been a few months since that Dr. visit. Do I still pee everytime I laugh? You bet I do but I am so happy to have a laugh I will take the dripping. And as far as the ocassional pee while exercsising? I did the only logical thing I could do. I quit doing jumping jacks and pretty much anything that requires me to move up and down. I am thinking of getting a Peloton. This way if I am peeing I am in the comfort of my own home.

So to my local friends, if you see me running through the mall with a look of determination on my face chances are I am looking for a bathroom not trying to beat the crowds.  Should you find yourself in a similar situation do not hesitate to text me, I know where EVERY bathroom in New Jersey is, I am happy to share my secrets.

Self Awareness 101:I Am A Bottom Shelf Shopper

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Getting ready for college has probably always been a stressful time. I must say though it seems to have taken on a life of its own in this digital age. If I see one more article on Facebook clog my newsfeed about packing for college or what emotional mindset my mind needs or things I wish I told my college freshman I’m going to scream. We get it our kids are leaving, going to college, not living with us anymore. Got it. However there are some things that go on that no one tells you about that need to be discussed right here right now.  And that is the Bed Bath and Beyond 20% off sale.

I know, I know they always have 20% off. Uh uh. This is 20% off your entire purchase. That’s right all those lists you have been reading on Grown and Flown about what to bring to school…..Pull those suckers out because it’s 20 off EVERYTHING!!!

I had been patiently waiting for this since the end of my daughter’s junior year because every person I came into contact with said “did you get your 20% off coupon? I was ready and waiting for it. But it never came. Like nothing. No email, no text no nothing! So I did what any other anxiety riddled middle aged, hormone depleted woman would do and I called Bed Bath screaming like a lunatic! So 3 (yes 3) 20% off coupons later I was truly armed and ready. I had rsvp’d on line, downloaded the app I was now really good to go. That is until my husband said “I think I’ll come with you” what ?? “Why on earth would you want to come with us and put yourself through this ?”Not to mention what we would be put through. Now I was having real anxiety, the last thing I needed was Adam following my daughter and myself around asking why she needed a squatty potty. Especially one for $29.99.

I needed a way to distract him. I suggested getting gas in a neighboring town (cheaper), catching up on correspondence (thank you Friends!) searching the camp website for photos of our other daughter, anything but please don’t come with us.

Twenty minutes later the three of us pulled up to bed and bath and the frenzy had started. There were plenty of fathers there so it was not “weird or “creepy” (per my daughter).

Once we checked in (this is serious you have to rsvp!) got our college list we really got moving. I was scanning like it was nobody’s business, for the first 5 minutes. Then began the interrogation. “Why does she need that clock ?” “Can we get it cheaper at Best Buy?” Why are you getting the biggest size? “Why does she need a laundry basket that big”? On and on and on. Finally I whispered to my daughter “Don’t worry I have 3 coupons we will come back, dad will never know. Of course you can get the light bulb for the toilet bowl, and the set of stackable shelves that fold into a yoga mat, go right ahead I said to Lindsay.

As I’m saying this, I’m noticing very large things are appearing in the cart. Stacks of washcloths, jumbo sizes of random things,  like the biggest fan, the largest makeup mirror that charges your phone at the same time. All are turning up in the cart with no room to spare. As I turn to ask where this is coming from I see my husband struggling to pick up and grasp the largest laundry hamper contraption filled to the top with merchandise, that I have ever seen. “What are you doing, I ask?  I was now mortified (there were ALOT of people there I knew!) He says: “all you guys are.. are just bottom shelf shoppers, the bigger it is the better for you” “Doesn’t matter what it is… if it’s the biggest you need it and want to buy it so I figured why not add this, it’s the biggest in the store”.

I looked at my daughter and we both started to laugh because even though I hated to admit it, he was right! I always look to the bottom shelf and I have absolutely no idea why. I do tend to just order the biggest and largest regardless if I need it. My iced coffees from Dunkin? always a large. My iced tea? of course a large. When ordering take-out chinese food, no pint for me its always the quart size. My mind went back to my make-up organizer I bought a few weeks ago. It was so big it couldn’t fit on my bathroom vanity, I had to put it on the floor. Adam and myself were tripping over this thing almost every time we walked into the bathroom, and I still thought it was ok! It was a Kim Kardashian make up organizer!! Same one as Yeezy has in his bathroom. Except his bathroom is probably the size of my entire upstairs. And he may or may not be worth millions of dollars. Sadly it was sent back to where it came from.

As I looked at my cart now filled with jumbo items like a giant shower head and dozens of washcloths I laughed. I laugh so hard I may have pee’d , because the stress of sending my daughter off to college was clearly getting to me. The pressure of making sure she had “all the right things” affected any common sense I had left.  Her giant step stool was not helping her overcome what anxiety she is feeling or sense of homesickness. (plus where is she putting that?) 

As I put back the laundry hamper I decided that I would try to start to de-clutter and downsize. It’s time for fresh starts for all of us. However, if you see me on line at Dunkin Donuts ordering a jumbo iced tea, no judgement please remember it is the small (or large) things in life that get us through the day. 

                                                      (My actual large iced tea!)

Amy vs. the Treadmill

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I am the type of person that looks to the universe for signs.  I believe in ghosts and believe there is a reason for everything, almost everything.  Maybe there are some things I don’t understand, for instance 9/11, but when it comes to romance, relationships, and certain events in my own life I believe the universe is talking.

When I walked into the gym this morning I had not had a conversation yet with the universe so I was feeling optimistic.  I put out to the world (and to all 10 people who actually read this) that I am planning to run a half marathon, and soon.  This requires training, which means running. Considering that it is 31 degrees outside my training is relegated to a treadmill.  Not a problem, I joined a new gym in December so I am ready.  My gym is cool, so cool that they host a fundraiser every February called Cycle For Survival.  They close down the entire gym for the day  and teams come in and spin throughout the day to raise money for cancer.  The gym moves the equipment out and puts spin bikes in the entire gym.  It’s like Soul-Cycle came in and threw up everywhere.

So Monday morning everything should be back to normal, should be being the operative words.  I am a creature of habit so I run on the same treadmill every time.  This is not that weird. Ask any runner about their habits and you will see they are extremely ritualistic.  Since I have been using the same treadmill, I have noticed the same people using the same treadmills all around me.  There is the extraordinarily thin girl who must use the same treadmill every day while watching Fox News or the older woman who actually battles the same girl for the treadmill, that’s always entertaining.  This morning as I walked to my treadmill I was pleasantly surprised to see out of the 3 treadmills I use only one was in use, the middle one.  Behind the first one on the floor was a maintenance guy doing who knows what but he was on the floor and I had to walk around him to get to the third and final treadmill.  Had the treadmills been in their normal spots this would not have been a difficult task.  However, when the treadmills went back to their spots after Cycle for Survival, the gym did not leave enough room between the treadmill and the wall.  There was not enough room for me to actually walk through to my treadmill, but, I did not know this until it was too late.  As I walked past the treadmill that was in use, my leg brushed against it. I then proceeded to fall onto the treadmill as the person was running, I scraped my shins, flipped over, twisted myself like a pretzel, and landed on my back.  That not being enough, I then proceed to fly off the treadmill toward the window, hitting a garbage can and promptly landing with the garbage can on top of me as I lay crumpled in front of the window.  My back and pride all hurting at the same time.  Did I mention the runner on the treadmill in an attempt to save her own life lost her shoes? I could not make this up. 

I really did not know what to do.  As I was laying on the floor I decided to get my big ass up and try to act like everything was normal.  If normal includes the whole club stopping what they’re doing to run over to the middle aged hag laying in a heap at the end of a treadmill with a garbage can on top of her.  After I got up I was promptly offered an ambulance ride to the nearest ER.  After I declined that I sat there with ice on my back while the trainers repaired my mangled legs.  I spent the next 45 minutes trying to figure out if I was ok.  Was I ok? I have no idea.  I didn’t hit my head so there is that comfort.

So do I need to look deeper into what the universe is telling me? Should I read into this that I should not be running this race and I should find a different goal? I say no.  I say the universe is telling me to plow ahead.  I think the universe is testing me to see how far I can be pushed and I am not giving in.  I put it out there and I am doing.  So, although I am in extreme pain and can barely walk, I am going to take this as a sign that I need to finish my goal.  This was a test and even though I may have to run as a handicap athlete I am going to do it.  It’s my official F you to the universe.  You can knock me down, suck out my estrogen, and continuously humiliate me but I am not backing down.

So, next week when I feel better (and I better feel better) I’m going to take my bruised ego and ass back to the gym, get on that treadmill and pray that the universe is too busy screwing with the world to bother screwing with me.

                                                                  (how I felt after the “incident”)

Break ups in the new millenium

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My daughter and her boyfriend broke up today. They’re 16. At 16 a break up is pretty dramatic and life altering, like when the Wifi goes out or your contacts get deleted from your phone. I tried to help out as much as I could but I found myself relying on her best friend more than my own experiences. I am 48 and 16 was a long time ago. When I was 16 and heartbroken I would put  Air Supply on my record player, blast it as loud as I could and cry on my bed. Come to think of it when my boyfriend dumped me at 27 I did the same thing. Things are so different today. My daughter was on social media immediately and was seemingly fine. Which got me thinking…how things have changed since we were dumped or doing the dumping in the 80’s.
1.SOCIAL MEDIA
Considering there was no social media the closest I can compare it to is writing a note about your ex. Gone are the days of passing notes or even doodling. They changed the notebooks so you can’t even doodle your name dreamily in class as Mrs. whoever. The notebooks are plastic, they don’t even bend. Right after my daughter and her boyfriend broke up she was face timing and getting snap chats. There were a few tears but trust me when I tell you she had all bases covered. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat they were all updated immediately. Luckily her status never changed on FB while they were together because changing that back from “in a relationship” to “single” would have caused a code red security level.
2. MUSIC
Music was the backbone of my existence growing up. I could not wait until the latest album came out. Most of my childhood experiences can be defined by a song. I would sit on my bedroom floor and memorize all  the words to my favorite songs, if I was luckily enough to have an album with the words included on the sleeve. Nursing a breakup (I’m embarrassed to admit this) I cannot tell you how many times I listened to Wilson Philips in the fall of 1991. I put it in my walkman and would listen to it for hours. I don’t even know if my daughter listened to music. I think she may have googled something on youtube and listened for 30 seconds.. moving on. I just have to reiterate. I would lay on my bed..with a hairbrush and belt out through my tears singing Barry Manilow and Barbra Streisand. Again, 2016 a minute of a youtube video and thats that.
3.FOOD
Lets be honest, Junk food in the 80’s is not junk food of today. In fact junk food is the Al Qaeda of food. I am tired of looking at FB posts of Health coaches, healthy snacks and healthy exercise. Sometimes you need some Twizzlers just to get you through. I spent many a break up sitting with a container of Haagen Dazs ice cream, Doritos and Tasty-cakes. There is no problem that a Devil Dog or Coffee Cake Jr cannot solve. So naturally yesterday after the break up I suggested we eat the most Fattening thing I could muster up in snowstorm of the century. I had cookie mix, nachos, french fries, bagels.. all ready at the helm.She asked for a low fat brownie mix and some cantaloupe. WHAAT?? No wonder she is depressed…It is not her lack of boyfriend,it is the fact that she cannot even allow herself to eat some comfort food. Who could ever get over a break up eating cantaloupe? There is no way this is my daughter. I somehow convinced her to eat some blue corn tortilla chips, I think I heard a small sigh come out of her as she was dipping them in the guacamole, mission accomplished.
4. STALKING
Let me clarify. This was before Stalking was listed as a medical diagnosis or a defense in a court of law. Stalking back in my day was not true stalking. A drive by was not considered stalking, a drive by was a right of passage . How else could you know if your ex was nursing his wounds or partying his ass off. I spent many a Saturday night with friends driving around looking for ex boyfriends. We would drive to neighboring towns, down the shore…no place was out of reach. There was no caller ID so we would have friends call the house just to see if they were home, going as far as hanging up when they got on the phone. I do believe all these nights led to my uncanny ability to navigate google like Sergei Brin himself. I am pretty sure had the government hired a bunch of middle aged mothers, Bin Laden could have been found within hours. Unfortunately my kids will not have the same experience. Because of social media within seconds of the breakup they are still seeing each other and know where the other is at every waking moment. Part of the beauty of a break up is that you actually don’t have to see the person if you don’t want to. The idea of possibly running into each other at a party or club made the notion of actually going to those events more enticing. The not knowing and the possibility made it more exciting. Now because of social media there is no mystery. Chances are she would know where he is at any given time and vice versa.  My daughter needed to NOT see what her ex was doing she needed at least 24 hours to disconnect and not hear from him. However if my daughter wanted to see what her ex was doing all she needed to do was look at her phone. What fun is that? How will she be able to look back on a break up in 10-15 years and laugh about it when it will consist of looking at her phone?

 

I know times change, I am trying to change with them but at the same time I am trying to make sure my daughter does not miss out.  All my breakups made me stronger and I laugh when I think back to them. As heartbreaking as they were…and they were…trust me. I literally spent my summer at 27 years old laying on the lounge chair at my mother’s pool openly crying while listening to my walkman.There were many senior citizens very worried that the young woman at the pool was having some kind of break down and I was bringing them down. I can look back and laugh at my behavior and know it helped me to find my husband, so I would never have to go through that again. I can only go on my own experiences and hope she applies what I have taught her to get through each milestone. Maybe she and her friends are better off not wallowing in self pity like we did. Even as I write that last sentence I know it’s not true. Each heartache made me a stronger and more empathetic person. Not that my daughter and her friends are not strong or empathetic, I would like to believe they are.  I truly believe when my daughter’s friend’s phones die, she feels for them! In the meantime in honor of my daughter’s break up, I am going to put on some Barry Manilow and show her how empowering singing into a hairbrush can be.

What I’ve Learned On The Other Side Of 45

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1. My metabolism is not only dead it’s now my mortal enemy.
I’ve dieted my whole life. I know every trick In the book. Once you cross that number  all bets are off. There are no tricks unless they involve anesthesia and  an overnight stay in the hospital.
2. My neck is MIA.
 My neck is  gone. And I think it took my chin with it as well. Where I used to have definition between my chin and neck I now have one long blob. I can only see distinction between the two when my hormones really kick in and I get a giant pubescent pimple with a welcome sign on my long lost chin.
3. Changing of hair
  This could be the most disturbing. I have been blessed with long thick hair my entire life. Last month when I was getting my hair cut my hairdresser asked me if I had a thyroid problem because my hair had “changed “. Needless to say I spent the better part of the month undergoing extensive blood tests only to determine I’m getting old and my hair is changing. I have to remember to tip her for that little trip down anxiety lane.
4. My loss of patience
Never a strongpoint even on a good day. However, With my hormones in a total state of chaos I’m perpetually annoyed by people. How more murders aren’t committed by hormonal women is really remarkable. The president may want to consider putting together a small army of menopausal women, pretty sure we would have ISIS on their heels.
5. My ability to cry
I cry at everything. Commercials, graduations, soccer tryouts, driver permit tests. You name it and I’m a sobbing mess. Last week my husband said something nice and I hid and cried. He already thinks I’m one arm away from a straight jacket why add fuel to the fire.
6. My appetite
 I’m hungry … All the time … And I don’t mean” oh let’s have an apple ” hungry I’m sour cream and onion dip with ruffles hungry. And thinking about that makes me want to cry because I realize I don’t  think my kids have ever had onion dip.  Which I think is a right of passage into adulthood that I’ve withheld from them.
7. Everyone is old
 I know the alternative is worse so I get it. It’s just so damn depressing to realize if we are getting older then where does that leave my old crushes and heartthrobs? Apparently with bad Botox and in rehab (see David Cassidy )
8. I can’t see/hear
I don’t know if it is a result of my kids burying their heads in their phones and me having to repeat the same question over and over but it seems as if teenagers are speaking at levels only dogs can hear. They have the Netflix turned up so high in one room while literally watching something else on their computer in the same room you would have to be the Bionic woman to hear anything. Reading “the fine print” is out of the question without a magnifying glass and a jewelers loop.  So now I’m no longer able to hear without the volume being at full blast or see without using the flashlight on my phone .. I’ve officially become my mother
9. Random hot flashes
This is no joke. This winter was one if the coldest in history yet I was like an Ez Bake oven, Literally. The thing with a hot flash  that no one tells you is that they sneak up on you and you have no idea it’s happening. One minute your standing in your kitchen watching the Real Housewives of anywhere and the next thing you know you are standing in a pool of your own sweat while putting your head in the freezer.
10. Body changes
All I can say is this. Remember when you were pregnant and your hips suddenly expanded overnight? Welcome to peri menopause. One day you are a solid size 4 ok 6 then you wake up and while you fit in your jeans, your hips won’t cooperate. If they ever stop putting stretch in jeans I swear there will be an uprising with women screaming from their cars “spandex matters”.
 I know there are many more symptoms, this was the tip of the iceberg. The lack of sleep, anxiety, the list is endless. The thing is getting old sucks. No doubt about it. And the world is cruel to the elderly…Just look at Hollywood . Celebrities are so scared of aging they maim themselves in their quest to remain youthful looking. Change is hard even on a good day  but what this represents is so much deeper … It’s a secret club no one wants to be a part of and no one wants to admit their in. The alternative is, There is no alternative. So I’m trying to embrace it. I told my husband last night I’m embracing my new curves . I’m such a psychotic lunatic at this point anything I say he smiles and nods. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m one step away from smothering him in his sleep if he looks at me the wrong way. Which is entirely possible if he looks at me during a hot flash.

Things I Would Have Liked To Say To My 20 Year Old Hostess

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The other night I faced the ultimate humiliation as a 48 Year old woman. I went out for a nice romantic dinner with my husband .. One that I already had trepidation about going to since the restaurant is notorious for the young and fabulous. My husband assured me it was a beautiful night and we would watch the sunset .
As we pulled Into the parking lot I noticed the 20 something’s in their crop tops . I’m not blind I saw what was ahead of me but as I perused the perimeter I also noticed mothers and women who I thought were not so far out of my fashion or age stratosphere .
As I stood in line to talk to the hostess I noticed the party of 6 in front of me . Not one of them were over 25 but other than that nothing special . Actually they were bland . If they were ice cream they would be vanilla . They sat immediately …so fast they left their vineyard vines whale waving in the dust . As I approached the podium and smiled at the hostess I saw her give me the once over . I chose to ignore it because I chose to be the bigger person so when I smiled and said “2 for outside ” I really did t think I would encounter pushback . She smiled looked away and said outside is an hour and a half wait . Silence . I decided this could go two ways . I could berate her and bring her to tears or I could walk away . First I said to her “you are joking right ” just to let her know I was on to her . She did say we could immediately sit inside … Code word for hiding the middle aged couple we don’t want anyone to see .
I walked back out to the car where my husband was waiting . My husband looks like he’s 14. He should have gone in and snuck the aging ogre in the back . I told him you should have gone in then I proceeded to tell him what happened . He asked me why I didn’t ask for a manager . A manager ? I was already so humiliated by this insipid little twerp why would I further humiliate myself by engaging another 20 something to embarrass myself .
My husband doesn’t understand why I didn’t go above her head and make her feel like a worthless piece of crap who’s only self worth comes from enabling people to get a good seat in a restaurant . I did not agree . Why would I want to be in a place I’m not wanted . I played this game 25 years ago … There was no freakin way I was doing it again . However . I chastised myself for not speaking up and telling her exactly what was on my mind and should this happen to me again here are some of the things I would say to her:
1. I know you. You look at me and see a middle aged mom but 25 years ago I had a slim body , silky hair and not a wrinkle on the horizon . But 20 years 2 kids and a husband sneak up on you very quickly. Enjoy your youth because at 20 you think you’ll look like that forever and 30 years from now you’ll be in leggings and a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt
2.  You think sitting with the cool kids now matters … Listen I’ve been on VIP couches and have been behind red velvet ropes in my time . Nothing beats your child being picked for a team or included in a party .  Any fleeting moment of false pretense can’t compare . Whosever VIP table I sat at when I was 24 probably doesn’t remember my name but my child will always remember how they felt when they sat in the first row for a Taylor Swift concert or was chosen for a sports team .
3.  You feel powerful now because you made a middle aged woman feel insecure about her aging looks and body . — send me a photo of you after you’ve sat up all night with a crying baby or worse , a teenager who just read something terrible about her in a group chat. Or realizing that you should not spend that $795 on your electric blue shoes because your daughter needs another tutor and another tutor and yet another tutor . So it’s fine you put baby in the corner because one day your baby will actually be put in a corner and let’s see who helps you out of that jam … Perhaps your middle aged neighbor who is just a little older and a little wiser ( and a little more wrinkled and meaty)
And lastly I would say to her, you think your powerful in your summer job here seating people … But when summer is over and you need a real job and you need to rely on your connections … Who do you think is going to help you ? Your middle aged parents friends … And I promise, you don’t know me personally but when you humiliate one of us you do it to all of us and we talk and we listen . So the person you humiliated and made feel insecure could also be married to someone you will be groveling to for a job . And when that persons husband tells them about the young kid who he has to meet as a favor to find them a job I assure you , your name is getting tossed out like yesterday’s garbage or an old pair of parachute pants .
I know I sound angry because I am . It’s hard enough to make it every day feeling good without some ignorant 20 something judging you because you are wearing a peasant shirt to hide your rolls rather than flaunting your washboards abs ….and. By the way I never had washboard abs.
So scratch that restaurant off my list , even if they called and begged me to come back I would sooner go to chipotle in a strip mall . And for the record My husband thinks I’m still smoking hot which really is the only opinion I care about . Through every fad diet and personal trainer he always tells me he loves me and how good I look . Clearly middle age is affecting his eyesight but that’s ok I’ll take blind compliments any day of the week from someone I love over validation from a nobody standing behind a seating chart .
So maybe tonight when she goes home she can remember how great a job she did seating the hot 25 year old guy who won’t remember her name . I’ll be at home , toasting her with my friends laughing at the ignorance of youth as we tell each other how fabulous we are … Because we are !