I’m not that thrilled about this birthday.
Maybe because my doctor gave me the “menopause” talk. I never thought I’d miss getting my period; however, lately I’ve been tearing up, thinking about how it seems like only yesterday I was 13, and now I’m… not.
I never wanted children, so it isn’t that. I’ll be happy when I no longer have to worry about that. But — ha ha! — just when women can have sex without getting pregnant, nobody wants them anymore. Which I KNOW is, like, the POINT, but still. We don’t live in the jungle. The admittedly screwed up thing we’ve constructed called “civilization” keeps us alive longer; is adorned with any number of sparkly, merely decorative add-ons that long ago went from “options” to “standard;” and our expectations and self-images outlive all practicalities.
If I was single, I’d be way more depressed. Actually, I wouldn’t, because I would have killed myself by now. You think I’m kidding.
I never expected to live this long. Nuclear war was my retirement plan. Now it looks like were in for a long, slow demise featuring unpleasant demographic “Camp of the Saints/Tower of Babel” upsets; increasingly absurd “laws” and “rules for ordinary people — while real criminals are ignored and rewarded; and endless movie remakes, hideous clothing and mediocre pop music.
