Where do I begin? I am eternally grateful for the ugly-assed hags posting closeup photos of their wrinkly faces to remind me of how much younger I look. Many mornings I look in the mirror while brushing my teeth and wonder who the old broad is glaring back at me. Then I start to pick myself apart, inch by inch, until I've sufficiently depressed myself and begun craving something "special" in my morning coffee. Luckily, every day, like clockwork, there is always someone who feels the need to take yet another self-portrait and share it throughout the land. As I scroll through my feed, I have the giddy pleasure of being startled by a face that looks 20 years older than mine and definitely uglier. At that moment, I am lifted out of my funk, and can go about my day knowing that I look fucking good!
As an adult who is years beyond giving birth ever again, I am appreciative of the fact that I no longer have to deal with a screaming snot rocket in public and subject myself to the glares of the so-called professional parenting experts when I drag her ass back out of the store, kicking and screaming. Yes, I was that mom. You can throw yourself on the floor at home, but in public you will behave like a fucking human or you will lose the right to be outside the house. I can now watch and laugh at the struggling stay-at-home moms who have nothing else to do BUT teach their kids how to behave appropriately, floundering and reasoning with their toddlers on an adult level above what even she truly understands. I can shake my head, point, snicker. It's my turn to be the opinionated fucker, tsk tsking in the store. Hell, I am trying to shop. Grab hold of that little shit and throw him in the cart. He doesn't belong underfoot, especially not my foot. Praise the baby Jesus and thank God that my child is seventeen already.
Thank the Lord I went to high school in the 80s, when my biggest worry was making sure I had a full can of Aqua Net in my purse and extra cash to buy candy to eat in class. I am beholden to my parents for having me in 1971 so that I could experience high school during the "ME" decade and become a slave to the oddball fashion of the time. How many others can say that they got to wear neon pink sweaters and 30 black rubber bracelets on each wrist, while wearing enough hairspray to affix a small child to a wall, and two pair of scrunchie socks over their tights? Now ask how many could say they wore it to school? Our uniform was from the waist down and we had a dress code from the waist up. I could rock the day glo one day, and the layered shirts the next. Wrapping a big twisted scarf around my nappy hair a la Madonna in her Dress You Up video, and rocking the black eyeliner like it was applied with a giant crayon, I wore my uniform skirt and went to school. I couldn't have done that if I was in high school now. I don't have the flat ass to wear the narrow jeans they sell at Hollister so I'd be screwed.
Another shout out to my parents for raising me in Queens, NY. For so many reasons, but I'll just discuss a few. I ate salads with dressings other than Ranch. Thousand Island, Catalina French, Italian, Coleslaw, or just oil and vinegar, I had options! Because that white shit was not a staple in my home, I also learned to eat vegetables without having to dunk them into a vat of it. I actually knew what broccoli tasted like and enjoyed it in all its natural glory. Fortunately for me, growing up in NY, I also know what good pizza tastes like and had the opportunity to enjoy vast quantities of it before moving out here to shitty pizza land. My palate wasn't tainted by pizza covered in crap like pineapples and Canadian bacon. Nor did I ever touch a slice that had cheddar fucking cheese mixed in with my sacred mozzarella. Who does this? What fucktard came up with that idea? Probably the same person who came up with nasty bagels they make out here and try to pass off as NY bagels. Give me a fucking break, that oddly chewy tiny little bready and flavorless rounded item is most decidedly NOT a NY bagel nor could it ever pass for one.
I am indebted to my mother for allowing to me eat like a person, not a bird. Never the girl who just orders a salad when out with others, I am able to embrace my curvy self without guilt. Unlike some women, I don't have to pretend to be a light eater, I can eat like a lumberjack happily and with great gusto. For this reason, I am not obsessed with size or shape and have not passed this disease on to my daughter. She is a curvy girl and looks absolutely gorgeous. When I see the girls she goes to school with, I am forced to ask her if they ever eat. I see a generation of girls with such poor body image that they've resorted to all forms of eating disorders and drugs to maintain what they believe is attractive. What they look is like emaciated girls or ten year old boys. Unhealthy mentally and physically, they have a long and painful road ahead of them. Thank all the bible boys, my daughter won't have to deal with that shit. She eats like a person, not a hummingbird. God bless her appetite, my great-grandma Rose would shed a tear of pride watching her eat.
Give praise to Mary, mother of Jesus, I am able to go to work every day instead of sitting home watching the four walls. Not only is it financially smarter to go to work once your children are old enough to be in school full-time, but it is intellectually healthier for you to be out in the world among other adults contributing positively to society. Not having enough time to keep the house as neat and clean as I'd like is a thorn in my side, believe me. That is why I take advantage of any time off I have to go on psychotic cleaning sprees, attacking an area of the house at a time. Staying at home while your children are young is the optimum situation for their growth and emotional health. You are their primary teacher and it is a job you had better fucking take seriously. Taking them to the park or somewhere they can learn to socialize is crucial, do not keep them holed up in the house so you can watch your fucking soaps all day long. And is the television and the internet so important to you that you can't get your household chores done AND raise your children? I can tell you that I can get done what most of you whine about having to do with hours and hours to do it, in a third of the time you are allotted on any given day. Lazy ass bitches give the rest of us a bad name. And for not being one of them, I am forever obliged.
Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits, I married for love. Hard to imagine in this day and age, but we did it, and contrary to the current marriage statistics, are still married twenty years later. Waiting until getting older and set in your ways doesn't work for everyone. Plus, face it, older is not always attractive on all people. Then you have to have something else to bring to the table, and many of you fake it. Faking interests, faking importance, faking life experiences, faking monetary worth, all in the name of snagging a partner because your biological clock is ticking or the need to couple has become so great and your prospects are slim and none. I didn't have to pretend to have the same hobbies or like the same music. Nor did I have to learn to do something that scared the shit out of me or bored me to tears just to impress someone. Nope. I could just be me, and me was enough. We just truly enjoyed each other's company and were friends first. People today forget the friendship part. The basis of any good relationship is taking the time to be friends first. If you get along well enough to hang out with this person all day long and still want to talk to them on the phone that night, chances are you've formed that foundation already. Without taking skydiving lessons and line-dancing even though you hate country music. Imagine that?
What else brings me a sense of gratification? The fact that I am educated and extremely intelligent. Yes, I just kissed my own ass, you don't have to bring it to my attention. While I can accept that many of you are not at my level, and respect everyone's individuality, I cannot stomach full-on stupid. Not necessarily book-stupid, even a severe lack of common sense can send me into a tailspin. There is no excuse for ignorance. As adults, we all have the responsibility of taking care of ourselves and at times, others. This requires a certain amount of common sense. Part of common sense is knowing what you don't know. Meaning, don't try to talk about things about which you haven't a clue. All you are doing is making a gigantic ass out of yourself and annoying the living shit out of everyone around you. Have the decency to know when to shut your fucking piehole, especially when you don't know a thing about the topic. Part of being intelligent is knowing what you don't know and either accepting it and asking those who DO know or...taking an interest in the topic and making an effort to learn about it before engaging in conversation about said topic. I will be the first to admit when I don't know something, bless my big brain and the common sense it is filled with that allows me to do that.
It is with gratitude that I celebrate my ability to express myself clearly and succinctly. I do not espouse euphemisms to tell you that someone is crippled or blind, I just call it like I see it. The lady on the corner is Oriental, not Asian. She is not Armenian or Iraqi, why would I call her Asian? If I catch someone jerking off, then I will tell them to stop jerking off in my presence, not refer to their monkey getting spanked. Dead is dead, your Grandma is not sleeping with Jesus. So when I inform you about someone taking their last breath, I won't refer to them as buying the farm, unless of course they did buy one right before they DIED. My love of all curse words also affords me to ability to be as expressive as I need to be in any given situation. When I slam my elbow into the edge of the table, I will scream "FUCK" at the top of my lungs so you get the full expression of the pain I feel at the moment without any candy-coating involved. If someone is an asshole, they are a fucking asshole, not a meanie or a turd. Really?! How old am I, three? An English degree under my belt and a colorful vocabulary are what make me so interesting to talk to, more so than the average jackass. Nothing makes me tune out more than someone who grasps at PC terminology and uses creepy childlike words to say in 8 paragraphs what I could have said in one sentence. This is why I am thrilled to be gifted with the ability to tell it like it is.
I am thankful for growing up before the technology age warped the minds of children. Thank God I know the difference between what is private and what can be publicly announced. I am relieved to have been born into a family that didn't have an abundance of money so I actually learned the value of a dollar and the importance of hard work. I can happily point out all my flaws so I don't have to focus so hard on yours. I am honest with myself and can admit when I've fucked up. Praise the Lord I was raised with respect for others and taught proper public behavior. I'd hate to be someone's embarrassment. Even though my home life was riddled with dysfunction and may have been considered scary by some, I am glad I lived it. It has taught me more than any books or school ever could and I am stronger today as a result. No one is happier than I to have lived in a city as a child rather than under the shade of a protected and sheltered suburbia. More life lessons are learned playing out on the street than being shuttled from playgroup to playdate and other overscheduled activities.
Speaking of overscheduling, I want to thank my parents again for not signing me up for every fucking sport, art class, and godforsaken other activity just to keep me busy my entire childhood. You know why? Because it wouldn't have been a childhood at all. I am grateful for all the unscheduled time I had on my hands, to read, play, explore, and socialize. I am also thankful for being raised with religion. Whether you believe or not is not my problem, but at least I know when the going gets tough, I have someone stronger than I who loves me unconditionally looking out for my best interest. I am happy to have all my quirks and issues. I'd be so boring without them. Thank God I've had periods resembling crime scenes for the past five or more years, because had I not, I probably wouldn't be able to appreciate the gift of early onset menopause and embrace those hot flashes like a boss!
But what I am most thankful for this year is my family and friends, who are actually just my extended family. Grateful for family that I've been reunited with thanks to the technology that I mock as well as because of a death in our family, I am so lucky that time and distance hasn't created an enormous and insurmountable gap between us and we were able to pick up like time has stood still. A loner by nature, I still couldn't get through the day without knowing that the people I love are there when I need them. They support me and love me even with my quirks, issues, history of dysfunction, ADD, coffee addiction, drunken sailor's vocabulary, and lack of edit button. I have an awesome husband who is my best friend, an amazing daughter, and the cuddliest cat on the planet. What would I do without all this love I am surrounded by? I never want to find out. Are you friggin kiddng me right now???
