The New Cat Lady

Me and my friend guy had an ugly text exchange recently, which left me with a strong desire to get a cat. I found a lovely 17-year-old beauty on a cat rescue site, but my aunty doesn't want a cat in the house. So now I'm not sure what to do since finding a romantic partner that doesn't make me cry seems to be out of the question for my life. According to Pix, cats are out of style anyway. 

"Cat ladies are not cat ladies anymore," he explained. "Those women who only watch true crime shows are the new cat ladies. If you meet a girl who only talks about that show Snapped or the stuff she has seen on I.D. Discovery, you are in trouble."

P thought that this was hilarious. Apparently, all the bitter women at his job gang up together and talk about the latest serial killer slasher show they are binge-watching. 

Now that this new definition of a cat lady is in play, I am realizing I have been one for at least the last 5 years. There isn't one streamed missing persons/ the boyfriend did it/ the husband is suspicious docuseries that I haven't watched. For some reason, there is something so addictive about these shows! The only thing that would make watching them better would be watching them with my new cat in my lap. 

Stages

Long ago, I was invited to Colorado to review a winter resort. A family was staying there that I became friendly with, particularly the mother. She asked me how old I was, and at the time, I was 25. She was in her 50s. She said, "You are in that stage of life where you go on Facebook and see that all your friends are getting married. I am at that stage of life where I go on Facebook and see that everyone's parents are dying."

I have thought about that statement over the years, primarily because these stages seemed so extreme. I figured that there has to be a middle stage, and there is. At 40, I am at that stage of life where messed-up, scary stuff begins to happen to you to show you that you are no longer young, and it's not fun. 

Recently, a college friend of mine was diagnosed with breast cancer. Over the years, breast cancer has been diagnosed younger and younger in women. I had a mentor in her 70s that told me that when she started out as a nurse, it was rare to treat a woman under 60 with breast cancer. Now my friend, whom I remember partying with and watching her cross her sorority, is now posting about her doctor's visits and their mental toll. 

I have friends who are navigating separations and divorces. Friends that are dealing with high-risk pregnancies because they are now considered "geriatric". Friends who have seriously injured themselves doing something basic, like bending over or turning their head. It's also supplement time. Don't be surprised if you go to hang out with your girls and the conversation goes rogue, and you all start talking about what vitamins you are taking for heart health and to strengthen your pelvic floor. 

A woman recently went viral for pretty much having a live panic attack because she just turned 40 and felt like she had done nothing with her life and time is running out. This comes with it to, this feeling of feeling like you have not accomplished enough. Even accomplished folks can feel this way, and it's a very haunting and panicked feeling. You start to get antsy, searching for a way to at least have some small success. It's a lot of pressure. 

Earlier this weekend, I had a Clearly Canadian water. Do you remember those flavored waters from the 90s? They are back, and it was amazingly refreshing. The last time I'd had one of these drinks, I was at the stage in my life where my biggest concern was getting my homework done so that I could watch music videos for the rest of the day. Now, when I hear songs on the radio, I don't know who half of the artists are! 

I can be negative and anxious, so for my own mental health, I am trying to brainwash myself into believing that this is the stage that great, beautiful things are going to happen to everyone I know...just a little later than expected. This stage of life can be scary, but I just know that there is some sunshine coming around that bend, and I put that on my fish oil and glucosamine. 

Falling During The Fallout

A long time ago, I read this article about a doctoral student who had the opportunity to provide therapy to migrant women from another country who were granted entry into the United States after living for God knows how long in a refugee camp. She was stoked and eager to provide the women with tools to deal with what she was sure would be intense feelings of loss, hopelessness, fear, and even outright anger and exhaustion. To her surprise, all a lot of the women wanted to talk about were their boyfriends in the camp and the dramas they were dealing with. These women had been forced from their homes and saw incredible violence and hunger, but they wanted to know what she thought about their guys breaking up with them or moving to another country outside of the US. What did she think about long-distance relationships? In her opinion, did they have a chance of working? Needless to say, she was not prepared for the women needing this type of support. 

I thought about this the other day when I was talking to my new friend Pix. I met him online, we aren't compatible, and we are becoming friends. He called me excited to let me know that he has essentially met his dream girl. Their values align, she is super nice, and their conversation is smooth like butter. They are going out on a date, and he is super ecstatic. 

One of my college homeboys is stuck between two women. They are both cool and pretty, but they both speak to different sides of his personality. In all honesty, he does like one a little more than the other, but the one he likes the most isn't the best candidate for marriage which, in middle age, he has finally decided to get serious about. 

Then there is me. I had a guy that I was interested in for a second there, but after a hurtful text message exchange, I'm pretty sure we are through. P has warned me that when things like this happen, guys vanish for a while and come back later when they figure you have forgotten about what happened. So, he may circle the block, but I don't think that I can forget some of the stuff he said in those messages, especially since they are still in my phone and seared on my brain. I find myself thinking a lot about him and the general probability that I will ever find anyone. 

All this is happening while the sky is falling outside. So much is going on that it is hard to keep up with the news. One minute, people are talking about what to do if their healthcare is cut. Another minute, people are posting on Instagram about what to pack in your nuclear fallout backpack. There is an old saying that love conquers all. When we should be trying to figure out what to do as the world ends, we are editing our dating profiles and trying to figure out the quickest less painful way to become partnered. So yeah, love may conquer all, but what I am learning is what that doctoral student learned when helping the refugee women: love supercedes all when it comes to importance. Right now, I should be doing countless things to ensure me and my family's survival, but I am sitting here thinking about going back on a dating app. Maybe I will refresh my profile; make myself sound funner 😒, and post some new pictures where it doesn't look like I have six chins. It seems like love and its pursuit are the default setting, even in extremes. Because, as you hustle through the theoretical refugee camp that is life or prepare for global annihilation, you want someone who thinks you are cute next to you holding your hand.

Baby Talk

They say that birth rates are on the decline. I find this hard to believe, seeing that every time I go to the gynecologist, me and the menopausal receptionists working the front desk seem to be the only women in the whole place not knocked up. My social media timelines are literally packed full of newborns. But apparently, the receding birth stats are real, so much so that the government is willing to pay families $5000 to have a kid. I'm not sure if that is going to get America's families to baby makin'. Anyone who has children in their lives knows how expensive they are. I am pretty sure that I spend about five stacks a month on my nephew's Chick-fil-A orders. 

Today, I was informed that a young woman I mentored when she was a tween is pregnant. She is now in her late 20s, is in a relationship, and has a good job. Yet, when I heard the news of her being with child, I was not happy. I actually felt a very sharp wave of depression and doom in the pit of my stomach. You would have to be living under a rock not to know that the world is on fire. And I mean literally. It was not that long ago that Los Angeles went up in flames! There are wars and rumors of wars. People are losing their jobs left and right. The cost of living is through the roof, and there are global protests about one thing or another daily. There seems to be a united sense of dread and hopelessness when it comes to the state of affairs of the planet. I don't quite understand why someone would choose to bring a child into the world when everything is so, for lack of a better term, coocoo bananas!

However, a 20-something slipping up and having an oopsie baby with her boyfriend is almost to be expected. What really has me perplexed is the aware and educated people that see the distress of their surroundings and still decide to have a child. A guy I went to school with and his wife just brought a lovely little baby girl into the world. If I were closer to him, I would ask him how he and his wife decided to start their family when there are so many question marks and red flags all around us. 

My friend Amanda's sister is planning to get pregnant with her fourth child with her husband. I could not believe my ears when she told me this. I asked her why her sister would want to have a child now, with everything going on. She told me that I am not the only one who has asked that question. She said, "Why would she let things that are going on in the world prevent her from having her family?" Extreme social uncertainty seems like a huge reason not to have a kid, but I think I am in the minority on this thinking. 

I guess an argument can be made that there is no great time to have a kid. My great-grandma was born just 40 years after the abolishment of slavery. I just know that my great-great grandma's head had to have been spinning! Then my grandma was born right before The Great Depression. Yikes. My grandma had my mom in 1963, when things truly did not look too optimistic for Black folks, and my mom had me in the mid-'80s just as the country merged into the crack crisis and the AIDS epidemic. Again, yikes. 

I don't know what the story for this period of time is going to be. I guess the show has to go on whether or not the glass is half empty, half full, or completely full of caca. One thing is for sure: babies will come screaming into this world whether the world is deserving of their presence or not, and I'm willing to put $5000 on that. 

The Blues

It's very early, but I'm wide awake. I could be using this time to wash or paint my nails, but instead I feel like going outside on the porch to play a harmonica. I'm not sad or depressed, but I do have a bit of the Where is my life going?- I'm tired- I hope I didn't mess things up with a new guy I'm talking to- I'm tired of my vagina- I hope I'm not in perimenopause- Should I give up on my dreams? Blues. I'm trying to remain optimistic, but I am a little exhausted with life. I don't know what is to become of me sometimes. I wasted the first half of my life being a dreamer. Now I'm disappointed and don't know which end is up. I don't feel that my future is bright, and I'm very concerned about where this may leave me as a senior citizen. I hate even the idea of garbage. I'd do a very poor job dumpster diving or collecting cans. I don't see me winning the lottery anytime soon so I need to hustle. But until I figure out a game plan, it's just me and my metaphorical harmonica. 

Ozemp- Not

Like every other fat person with so much as two nickels to rub together, I have started taking Ozempic. You have probably heard of it by now. Ozempic, and other drugs like it, have been coined as weight loss wonder drugs. They first became famous when celebs started taking them, losing A LOT of weight in what seemed like overnight. Then the common folks like myself got a hold of it and reported similar results. I have been taking it for two months. Still fat. 

I can't even quantify how horrified I'm going to be if I go down in history as the only person that didn't lose weight on this drug! Admittedly, I have not realistically managed my expectations. By November, I wanted to be able to show up at my homecoming in rain boots and a thong. It looks like I'll be arriving in a "slimming" and modest trapeze top and mom leggings. 

"Do you know what those celebrities did to get such crazy results from this drug?" my doctor exclaimed during our virtual visit. "They have trainers that work them out three hours a day. A nutritionist. A personal chef. They dont eat sugar or carbs. Not even a sweet potato!" She assured me that I was on track and would see results as my dose goes up. 🫤. We'll see. 

My therapist swears my face looks thinner. I just think she's saying that to encourage me so I don't quit. I also think she may have been thrown off by the shiny, silky new bonnet I wore to our last session. 

Fat has been on me like white on rice since I was a baby, literally. Many people in my life think I've never tried to lose weight but I have, I'm just not excited about admitting my failures. The summer I became a vegetarian I actually gained weight! Water aerobics classes. Sleeping a lot so I'm not awake to eat. Weight loss shakes. Skipping meals. I feel like if this doesn't work I'm doomed! Plus I'm scared that new health guy in office is coming for the fatsos next. I could spend the rest of my life in a chub work camp in the mountains, making flip flops in a room with no air conditioning. Lets hope it doesn't go that far. Lets hope this works. 

Post Traumatic Nephew Syndrome

I have been having weird dreams lately that take place at my high school. In them I am being taunted and jeered, just like the bad old days. In one dream, I am walking down one of the hallways alone singing: "I am Holly. It is just me. I am so far behind, I should just be." I figured that these dreams were a result of my general anxiety and damage from high school. Now I think that my nephew is causing them.

Lately, he has been getting bullied on the school bus. Some little girl calls him names, hits him, and most recently ripped his report card that he was so excited to show us. Then some other boy just straight up hit him in the face! As a result, the bus driver gave my nephew an assigned seat near her, as if he was the issue. I think that this has triggered me and is causing my subconscious to go spiraling back to when I was in school. 

One reason why I never wanted kids is because I didn't want to relive how hard being one was. My weight was a constant source of ridicule, all the way up to my young adult years, but being in school was the worst! My whole existence seemed to be a joke for everyone, and no adult ever stepped up to help me. Being a kid was a very lonely experience. 

So when I see my nephew pouting over someone hurting him, it pisses me off and sends me free falling back to adolescence. My brother said he is going to teach my nephew to fight, but why does that even have to be the solution? Wouldn't it be easier for parents to teach their kids not to be a$$holes? 

When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about a world where I could be my binge-reading, fat self without other kids having something to say. That was over 30 years ago and it seems that things have only gotten worse. I guess that warm, accepting world only exists in my dreams.