Ahhhhh those women. THOSE women. I'm so sad for those women and I wish I could do something for them. When I see one, I want to reach out my hand and pull them aside and just help. They wouldn't let me, though, I'm their arch nemesis. And therein lies the rub.
What women, Ms. Busy and Important? I'm sure you're all wondering this and eagerly awaiting my unveiling of who THEY are, to see if you're one. You're probably not if you're reading this blog. Anyway, I digress: Those Women. Those Women are the lost souls to being hip, youthful, fun, and who they once were. We all see them, we all know some, and we all try to avoid them at parties. They can be any age, from 25-75. They've all lost that sparkle, that thing that they USED to be, that thing that drew people to them. They've all lost themself in the process of congealing into the lifestyle they all thought they wanted. It's so tragic. It's so my deepest rooted nightmare. It's so fucking common.
I saw one of these women not that long ago and my heart shattered. Her husband liked me. It made the whole thing even worse when I finally saw her myself, up close and personal. From her overly brand-named shoes, to her gawdy designer purse 10 years too young for her, to her sadly unhip capri pants, to the exhausted look in her eyes as she tried to appear hot, her sorrow was so paramount it took up the entire room. She was wearing all her insecurity in her slightly off but highly expensive gear, like armor against all the pain inside her and my heart just split into pieces. I wanted to compliment her terribly ostentatious, tacky style and make her feel trendy. I wanted to give her an opportunity to be funny, to be entertaining, to be something other than the sad woman standing there wondering where on Earth she went so wrong inside herself. Wondering how she got so lost. I couldn't do anything though, but smile and be polite, and pretend that I was impressed by all I saw. Tragic.
These Women don't start out as Those Women, this is the scary part. You become one of them. They all started out as fun girls, wild girls, nice girls, party girls, serious girls, musical girls, dancing girls, flirting girls, etc. They all had something, they all had some spark that lit up a room, or at least lit up a corner of a room. They all had qualities that attracted men and excitement and romance. Then....they settled. They settled somehow, all women do, either for a man not worthy, for a situation that seemed safe, or for a life they really thought was right. From there, they began melding themself into their new "role". They were no longer identified by their girlhood and all they had been in that, they were now a new person, a new form of themself, and so they slowly made changes. Cut their hair, eased up on the eye makeup, had babies, stopped going to girls' nights, stopped those classes they loved, fretted over new cupboards, longed for a bigger car. Each little change was necessary: who has time for classes with babies in the house? Who has time for 20 minute makeup applications? Who can relate to that perpetually single girlfriend crying over a new relationship again? One by one, These Women chip away at all those little factors that made them who they were to create who they are. Singularly, they're not a big deal. Add them up over years....there's a new breed born.
The problem lies in the fact that pretty soon, the kids leave the house a little more, spare time creeps back in, and she looks around to see...she's not there. The person she used to be is gone, and the person who has replaced her is becoming useless. Her husband is not enchanted anymore, and why would he be? The person he fell in love with is long gone! These Women don't remember their likes, their passions, their needs, their wants, their dreams, because there hasn't been time. That girl is gone, the woman you wanted to be is far off-base from where you can get now, and this is who you're left with.
So....you buy tacky shoes that you think are trendy because they're covered in Coach C's. You buy a huge Juicy Couture purse because it looks young and hip to you, when in fact it looks stupid and outdated to the young and hip. You flatiron your hair, but you can't get the front to lay right. Ever. Instead of looking forward to who you can become from this point, you try to run backward into that girl who everyone liked so much. Backward into the young chick your husband's been lusting after. Pretty soon this doesn't work either though, of course. Time rarely moves backward, even in desperation. And there you are. Those Women. I'm sorry this is where you've found yourself, and I hope the road takes you somewhere better soon. Evolve past this point, past this man, past this house, past those shoes, past these ideas that youth holds all the best keys. It's not true. You can get somewhere BETTER if you take an honest look in the mirror and get brave. I'm sorry it's come to this for you, my heart goes out to you.
