I can’t stand it. The way they walk around. In the street, at the mall, even the grocery store. They are all around me and I can’t avoid looking at a pair of perky boobs or flat stomach. I start to seethe.
I hate them. All those young people with their lives still rolling out ahead of them. All those young girls who have no idea yet how they can affect a man. Yeah, show off that body now, bitch, cause one day yours will be gone too.
I don’t hate anything. But I do, I do hate these young people. I hate them for their youth, their naiveté, their endless possibilities. Possibilities I could never imagine when I was their age. All the choices ahead of them. Choices I sometimes I wish I could have made. Life changing decisions and gigantic leaps of faith.
There have been decisions I didn’t make, and choices I did. There are things I could have done, but didn’t. There are places I could have gone, but didn’t. Why didn’t I? Why did I make the choices I did? Deciding to marry at 18 should have been a huge decision, but somehow for me it wasn’t. After all it was my third proposal that year, and I figured I was ready. I didn’t think it would be very likely I’d be asked again, and three was always a lucky number.
I don’t enjoy looking back on my life–I am afraid of the new regrets I’ll find. It hurts me to listen to disco music (the music of my dating years), not because it was so awful, but because it makes me feel old. My youth is gone, and I have to say goodbye to it. Something I am loath to do.
But I refuse. I defy nature and show those girls. I’ll get my 20 something body back. I want my 20 something body back. This summer I made a secret pact with myself to not only lose 30 pounds, but to have some muscle definition. I want to fit into my skinny jeans and cropped tops. I want a body to show off on the beach. I want men to look at me, and feel that power of being desired. It’s all ego, I guess, and maybe I have a real ego issue, but I wish I could live my life over, knowing the things I know now.
I want Husband to desire me again. I feel undesired and more like a maid than a wife for the past year. It’s not just age, but medication that’s hurting our relationship. Unless the meds change, is anything else likely to change? All I have left to me is hope. Hope that diet and exercise will make me at least feel more desirable.
I want to feel like I did in my 20s, when I was still capable of doing anything, being anything. And on a Neanderthal level, I want to feel like I could compete with other, younger, women if I had to.