it
has been two months since my shoulder surgery…and while i plod on with pt and
recovery through a late-blooming, but shitty winter…it is the calendar that has
me fifty shades of blue...april approaching…55….ugh...there’s no getting around
it…the roots don’t lie…or the memories, and sometimes lack thereof…the body
parts that you never knew existed that suddenly ache when you reach for that
cookie that you know you shouldn’t eat…but you feel you’ve earned with just
getting out of bed another day…but in a warped universe…twisted and
perverse…G-d has granted my wish for youth eternal…yes, almost 55…and yet i
still haunt the tampax aisle…guzzle advil to no avail…and roar like a fucking
dragon wanting to burn everything in my path once a month…yes, part of me seems
to be 14…when i went for pre-op before the surgery…and filled out 75 pages of
information…was passed like a bag of popcorn from nurse to nurse to nurse…all
around my age…the awe and wonder that passed each face as they read the
box…date of your last period…the disbelief…and then the audible…loud and
clear…YOU STILL GET YOUR PERIOD?!?...yes, i replied…i am the fucking
unicorn…the 8th wonder of the fucking world…yes…i will be pushing
through cvs with my walker and buying tampax until the end of days…or when
jennifer aniston wins an oscar…whichever comes first…then i was pissed that
they brought it up…and so the glint of the dragon must have blinded them and
they shut up…yes…that wish over candles for youth…that was supposed to be for 25…skinny…carefree…able
to down tequila shots with grace…and live to tell..and repeat…so in conclusion,
ladies…especially those reading this in your thirties, forties…or, bless you,
younger…next birthday…when you’re miserable over those five pounds…five grey
hairs…five wrinkles…the candles…just wish for bradley cooper…
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