Wednesday, July 25, 2007
that's right...it's the 200th post.
All right, I’m just going to say this and that’s all there is to it. It’s been boiling and popping inside of me long enough. I don't care how self-absorbed and unattractive it makes me sound. It can't be as bad as when I wrote about my uterus. (Post #18)
So Friday is my 33rd birthday. The big double 3. And even as I type this I still don’t believe that’s really how old I am. 33 is young. But not when you attend a singles ward of an LDS church. Particularly, my singles ward. 90% of the female population is ambitious, adorable, cute, so easy to fall head over heels for, and all averaging almost an entire decade my junior. A friend and I were lamenting that our ward was getting younger. Then we stopped and realized the flaw in that assessment. It’s not that they’re getting younger. We’re getting older.
Physically, I probably don’t seem much older than the other girls. But on the inside…let’s just say that after an average Sunday of mingling and conversing, laughing and smiling, I need to peel off my lips like a strip of thick Velcro, squish someone’s face with my fingers and howl a big long YYYYYYEEEEEEAAAAIAEEEEE!. A lot. And then maybe go for a run down Mem Drive without my shoes and scream some absurdities.
Not that I don’t like to smile. Or converse. I’m decent at both. In fact, I’m a pretty friendly cuss, so I have at least a fairly good acquaintance with many of the girls. And I can say with sincerity that they’re a phenomenal group of people. But they’re a young phenomenal group of people. When I was 25, I’d like to think I was exactly like them. These women seem lighter, simpler, more energetic, more fun, and every guy’s dream come true. I look at them and think…wow. You are such a catch. But, it’s okay. I only need one guy who prefers someone like me. Someone sadder, wiser, louder, sillier, stranger, contradictory, overwhelming, a big fat liar, compulsive gambler, someone who likes to wear fake moustaches, hates animals, keeps a 1,000 specimen spit ball collection, the list goes on. Problem is, he probably lives in Seattle.
What is this exactly? I know I don’t want to switch places with any of them; I actually like the woman I am. I got all kinds of interesting in here. And I think men see that too. But I don’t think men want to marry someone like me. Men admire me, they can talk to me, (usually about their girlfriends.) Sometimes they date me, and they seem to really enjoy it for a while. According to many a guy, I’m going to make someone very lucky someday. (and by the way, the next guy to tell me that gets my fist in his eye socket.) They just don’t seem to fall crazy in love with me. They marry the girl over there I just got done talking to.
I remember when my sister Amanda became engaged to her now husband, McKay. I applauded McKay for choosing her. Amanda doesn’t lie down and take it from anyone, and McKay adores that about her. Good for him, I thought. He gets it. Amanda is not smooth waters 24/7, nor should she be. She’s real, she’s hilarious, she’s complex. And if you don’t marry her you’re an idiot, because there is absolutely no one else like her.
Ugh, I totally got off on the boy tangent. Ick. Okay, so back to the 33rd birthday thing. The past few weeks, it’s been hitting me hard. So I came up with a plan. I’ve got great things planned for myself by way of celebration. I’m a big believer in celebrating. To fight off my feelings of inferiority and distance, I reached out to some women closer to me in years, and shared with them some of these feelings I have. The response was overwhelming. In fact, we’re having a dinner party at my house next week. Turns out, I’m not all that alone in this. Turns out, even a couple of them look at me and think I’m one of those girls they look at and think “why can’t I be like her?”. Is that not always the way it is? I really love women. Even the younger saplings.
I just don't want Satan to make me think because I'm older than most, I'm not as good or desirable. It's not true. Circumstances might be twisted to make it seem so, but it's just not true. The Spirit gives me the feeling that God delights in my company, and that's what I need to remember. Because that's what's real. If I remember that, I don't feel the inclination to pit myself against anyone, especially one of my beautiful (albeit younger) sisters. I can see myself as equal and just as great as she. I've actually got a little advantage, truth be told. Getting older really is a good thing.
Labels: a little venting
Anyway...many happy returns...and go celebrate!!
But no sadness from me, for my 33rd birthday, I'm teaching myself to Rollerblade. And hey, if your guy *is* in Seattle, you know someone who can introduce you. :)
Dude: thanks for the romantic dinner, dude.
Stace: Happy Birthday, dearest! May you roll forward in happiness and joy, free from treacherous cracks in the pavement ahead of you. Whoahhh...deep.
Mooney: I laughed so hard at your comment. I think my baby maker shook loose.
Jacosa: Come back! I didn't love you enough while you were here! Love that you wrote me, though.
Hass: Thanks, babe!
Mary: I love you so much! The best thing that came out of McCormick was, BY FAR, my friendships with you and Terri. You are truly the best.
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]