The age of technology is an amazing thing. What did we do before we were glued to our cell phones? How did we get by without our tablets which do pretty much the same thing as our cell phones, but bigger? You can do anything on your phone. Read, write, play games, talk to people without saying a word, or ever looking them in the eye. My therapist lives in another state! The other day I tended
bar at a high school graduation party. All of the guest of honor’s besties were sitting around one big table, eyes glued to their phones, texting each other. They were at the same table! My therapist has suggested I go a week without Facebook. I hear you all sputtering, ” but, but, that’s crazy talk! How will you know what’s going on with all of your friends?” More to the point, is how will I go a week without comparing myself to my “friends”, without comparing how few comments and “likes “I get as opposed to my more successful, happier “friends”. Without feeling bad because my “friends” not only have better lives than I do, they get a lot more attention on social media than I do. Let’s face it, peeps. There are about 10 of you out there who are actually friends. You read my blog. You know it’s my birthday without getting an alert from Facebook, you are well aware that I am 30 pounds heavier than my profile picture. That I am cranky, prone to temper tantrums, loyal, funny, creative. That I’m scared of getting old, getting sick, dying. That I’m crying as I write this. You may be right here in NY or across the country, or anywhere in between. And you know who you are. I don’t really care that my “friend” Skippy has a fabulous career, perfect children, a rich husband and 345 “likes” every time she does her laundry. Maybe Skippy is sick, or sad, or has marital problems. Maybe Skippy doesn’t have 10 real friends, like I do. Only 345 “friends”, who just see what she wants them to see.
Leaf Faces the Crowd
So I’m walking through the Roosevelt Avenue Station and out of the corner of my eye I see this heavyset woman and I think to myself, “I love her pants, but she is way to fat for that shirt.” About 2 minutes later, I see her again and I think, “Mmm, not so sure about the pants, her butt looks huge. Cute haircut though.” I turn a corner and there she is again! At first I think “I don’t really like her hair. Color is great, but the cut? Meh. And her shoes? Don’t get me started! She’s basically a hot mess. Fat, frumpy, old, shoes from Aerosoles”. Then as I enter the train I see her across from me. Bitch is stalking me! Wait a minute! That’s not just some random fat stalker! That’s me! I’ve been catching my reflection in the plate glass windows. In the last few years I’ve come so far from myself, even I don’t recognize me. It happens so gradually. The years go by and suddenly you find yourself in a galaxy far, far away. In the cosmos of graceful aging, I made a left instead of a right and seem to have missed my stop. I could just drift along, waiting for a spaceship going my way, but there is not always another one coming along right behind this one, no matter what they say. I’m gonna have to take dark matters into my own hands. I guess I’ll just flag down the Man in the Moon and hitch a ride.
The Man in the Moon