Sabotage

I wonder how old I was when I began to sabotage myself. When did I decide to hide myself behind a nice layer of fat? When did I decide to hide behind a serious exterior? I waited until I was well into my fifties to lose 130 lbs., when the "bloom was off the rose." I never thought of this until now. I had a near-miss once, a near-fling and it scared the devil out of me (or should I say into me!). Was my inability to lose weight and keep it off a way to keep myself out of trouble? Was I that unsure of myself? Am I so shallow that I'd leap at the chance with another man? So I kept the fat around my body as insulation against making my body alluring?
Sabotage.

I became attractive again and the feeling was giddy except the only men looking were as old as dirt. Well, for the most part anyway...I was safe. I'm far from beautiful but I'm not exactly a wildebeest either. I have never learned to be sexy or to flirt. I'm very comfortable with men - in fact, I prefer the company of men to the majority of women. Men usually have more on their minds than their children. I know how that sounds but women are usually not intellectually stimulating. That sounds arrogant, haughty, and misogynistic.

I admit it's true and I learned it from my mother. She didn't have girlfriends. Her only feminine companionship were her employees, some of whom she cared for deeply, but she wasn't into the bonding thing. Life, for her, revolved around my dad and brother. Women bored her. And didn't I know it! I've had to learn to like the company of women. The women I worked with usually were very busy bashing their husbands (I don't play that game) or talking incessantly about their children (once in awhile is okay, but a break, please!) and I'd rather talk about world events and politics. Is it a wonder I don't have many friends??? Sabotage.

I read something today that gave me grief. I realized that I have lost so much of who I used to be. Where did I go and why did I leave? I was never the life of the party but I was always one to have a good time. I used to be daring and feckless, writing letters to friends, addressed to "Lusty Flesh and the Four Skins," a name I made up for the occasion. In high school we used to go to the old Long Beach Pike (where they had the old wooden roller coaster out right by the water), and go to the "freak show" and heckle the barkers. My folks would've freaked themselves had they known! It's also where the sailors hung out. I never went without my male cousins...I used to smoke cigars with them. Their dads were doctors and they were good kids. We never got drunk or smoked pot - just good Cubans.

I was always ready for fun. My girlfriends and I took three years of French and would go around Disneyland "speaking" French as though we were natives and pretended to be tourists. We always went home with our stomachs sore from constant laughing over the silly things we were always doing.

And then life interrupted. I allowed my life and the events therein to "sour me." If I keep it up, I'll be an old lady who frowns at little kids and terrifies puppies! Heaven forbid! I have got to go hunting for the old me, the one who found sick humor in just about everything. I want to be the 100 year old woman who whacks the crap out of the young kid who tries to rip off her purse but smiles at him while he's running away.