I'm my own Grandma...

Do you ever feel like you're prematurely old? I feel like it's happening to me a lot more lately. I have a few theories as to why:

Just call me Gladys

First, most of my coworkers are significantly younger than me. This isn't usually an issue until we start making pop culture references, and they don't understand anything I say. I had to explain who Coolio was the other day, and I felt like I should check into a nursing home immediately.

Second, it is just so easy (and fun) to be crotchety. When I am stuck behind a group of teenagers at Starbucks who only want "water... with ice" but somehow still take 50 years to order, I am more inclined to be annoyed by their youthful exuberance than anything else. When did teenagers become so annoying? Is it just me? Was I like that as a youth? I am so sorry to everyone who had to know me if I was.

And third, I am in the older group at church now, and I definitely feel it. Dating becomes a lot more difficult when everyone is at least five years younger than you. And I know that age is just a number (etc, etc, etc), but I feel more like a den mother than anything else. I think 27 is when your use of dating apps becomes less ironic and more like a cry for help.

Maybe I just need to get out more? Maybe I need to move away from here and try something new. Who knows? I certainly don't.

Pessimism

A few weeks ago there was a post about Dana Falsetti in a Facebook group for fats that I follow. Falsetti is a plus-sized yogi who also talks a lot about body positivity. The OP posted, saying that she found the video of Falsetti inspiring. So far so good, right?

Get it.

Moments after the post went up, this comment appeared:

"Oh look another white small fat representing everyBODY"

 And I just couldn't freaking believe it.

There is literally no way to live your life anymore without ruining someone else's day. Even if those things are out of your control (like, say, being white or weighing less than 300 pounds, or even finding someone who has the audacity to fit into those categories to be inspiring). And it broke my heart to see it, because a few more comments down in the thread, someone said that she had been excited to go to one of Falsetti's workshops, but now she wasn't so sure because if other people think she's problematic...

Well, screw that.

I am sick to death of people telling other people what they can and can't enjoy, especially when the thing or person in question is not hurting anyone else. What baffles me the most is that most of the time I see this it's in a space that advertises itself as "safe".

There is nothing "safe" about a space that only reinforces the idea that there will always be some part of you that is lacking, or that your experiences do not count because you don't fit certain criteria. In fact, I have found these spaces to be a lot more damaging in the long run, because the people who don't fit in end up feeling more ostracized, and the people who do become part of a sort of delusional hive-mind that masks new forms of oppression under a screen of false benevolence.

I wish people could just love things and each other without being afraid of the repercussions that shouldn't even exist.

Sometimes I have a hard time believing that there is anyone good left in the world (and yes, this includes myself, dried up old hag that I am).

I think we're all going to "tolerate" each other to death.

My Bark is Worse than My Bite

As a general rule, I try to post mostly interesting and (hopefully) well-written things on this blog... which is why I don't seem to write too much. However, this might not be either of those things. This is just me trying to work out some feelings, and saying some things that I feel need to be said. I hope you like it anyway, if you choose to read it.

So, anyway... 

A few days ago some random guy on Tinder called me a "dog". Stupid, right? The reasonable part of me knows that I should not care what some idiot on a questionable dating app thinks of me.

But, unfortunately, I am not always a reasonable person. It was like getting sucker punched in the gut, and every negative feeling I have ever had about myself suddenly came rushing at me. Those thoughts have soaked into my head and my heart this week, and right now I am half-convinced that Mr. Tinder was right about me. What if I am a dog? And, if I am a dog, am I one of those Chinese Cresteds with a weird face?

To be fair, this is still pretty cute.

Seriously.

All I have been able to think about this week are these insecurities. "I am not smart enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough. I'm not as funny as I think I am. I am not as nice as I should be. I must be really annoying. What if I have no real friends?" Et cetera.

It has been exhausting to hate myself this much.

So tonight I decided to fix it. I took this picture:

I took this picture so that I could see all of the things I needed to change in order to become better, and of all the pictures I have taken in my life, this one is probably the most "me" of the bunch. I'm in my pajamas with no makeup. I didn't fix the lighting or any of the flaws in my skin. I only let myself take one picture instead of having ten to choose from. I haven't waxed my eyebrows in like... two months. There are so many things I could say that are "wrong" here... but I actually liked this picture.

I was surprised by how much. It's not perfect, but it's me. 

And I am okay with being me.

I can't say that I have had a full turn around and that from now on I will always be confident and fabulous, because that is simply not the case. However, this has been eye-opening for me. It has showed me that I can be happy with myself in spite of my flaws, and that, as my own biggest critic, I can be pretty darn shortsighted sometimes. 

All in all, I have learned two things from this experience:

1) I am not horrible, but guys on Tinder sure can be. And, 

2) When you think about it, dogs are pretty great. They are cute, fun to cuddle, super smart, and have great hair. Where's the bad?

I can't see it anymore.