Most times I don't admit it. I won't even admit it to myself, in a hot shower with the scalding water gushing down in torrents. I haven't made peace with the idea of my husband leaving me for a woman who is 14 years my junior. She's a lot younger than me, A LOT YOUNGER than me!
Yesterday the kids were looking at pictures on facebook of Fluffs 30th birthday party. I told myself I shouldn't,I warned myself sternly, but I couldn't keep away.I LOOKED... There she was, young and looking gorgeous.I mean she really looked stunning. Slender legs , decades away from a single varicose vein stretched tauntingly out of her mini dress. Her shoulder was flawless and milky. Her hair was a little longer than I remember and she looked to be having the time of her life...
It left me feeling so disposed of. It left me feeling old and unattractive and just plain awful. Darn that aging process - the thief of time and good looks. Darn that Roger! Darn me for not having a better perspective. Darn, darn, darn. Magic mirror "Who is the fairest of them all?"
I'm positively stuck in this tiny, cramped box of self loathing. How do I escape? What will make me feel better about all this? I can't compete with Fluff. Oh that I was a Michelle Pfeiffer....gorgeous to the last drop of life. If I can't look like Michelle, can I at least feel comfortable in my own skin, can I ever feel attractive again, can I ever feel sexy again? Can I learn to love this aging body of mine despite the visions of Fluff in all her gorgeousness and leggy sex appeal?
Am I shallow and vain? I suppose. Should I rather be concerned about the starving children in Ethiopia? You betcha! I have no answers.
No comments:
Post a Comment