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mallorys_cameraI’m beginning to understand that I’m naturally indolent.
Left to my own devices, I’d sleep 14 hours a night. Spend the other 10 hours of the day reading, eating huge vats of exotically flavored ice cream, binging on Canadian sci fi TV, and carrying out witty conversations with snarky friends. Lord Byron, T. E. Lawrence and Harold Pinter would be among those friends, so naturally many of those conversations would have to be carried out by ouiji board.
Such accomplishments as I’ve managed to attain over the course of six and a half decades – and yes, there have been a few – were achieved entirely by happenstance and necessity. Not by force of will.
I still remember waking up one morning after a night of the intensest debauchery imaginable, staggering to the bathroom and staring at myself in that mirror. I liked staring at myself in the mirror: When you grow up a neglected and abused child, and suddenly great beauty is visited upon you, it’s like sprouting a super-power or something. All of a sudden you can fly! All of a sudden you can start fires merely by scrunching your eyebrows and read minds just by giving someone a sideways glance.
I must have been 22 or so. I stared at that face, my face, those amazing cheekbones; those enormous, wide-spaced eyes, as emerald green as Scarlett O’Hara’s and now ringed in enormous circles of smudged mascara like Bizet’s Carmen or Alexandre Dumas’s Mercedes; that sweet smile of a mouth.
The light seeping in the bathroom window was the illumination of early morning at its harshest, though.
Yup, yup, the flesh was going crinkly around the edges of those eyes. And there were unmistakable beginnings of marionette lines around my mouth.
Honey, you ain’t gonna be this ornamental forever, I told myself. So you'd best find yourself a trade.
And the rest is personal history.
###
I’m pining after my lost indolence this morning because there are at least 25 things on my To Do list. Sadly, they’re all relatively high priority. Plus my kindly mechanic informed me this morning when I took the car in for its oil change that I should probably have the entire strut system rebuilt –
“It’s an old car,” he told me apologetically. “It runs good, but it looks like it’s got the original suspension system in place, and that’s gonna eat up your new tires –“
“It’s all good; it’s all good” I said. “I figure if you own a car, you’re gonna sink $2K a year into it – either as a car payment or as a repair. That’s the price you pay for independent transportation.”
Of course, I was dying to unload a more complete analysis of the true opportunity costs inherent in the automobile economy, but I held my tongue.
These days when I deal with retail clerks and service professionals, I use the ditzy Golden Girls approach for charm since beauty has undeniably faded. Yes, I look good for my age. Looking good for 65 is not the same thing as looking good for 22, however.
I do think it’s kind of unfair that I don’t have an extensive staff of brownies and leprechauns scurrying around the periphery of my life to do all the bor-r-r-ring maintenance and upkeep for me.
Left to my own devices, I’d sleep 14 hours a night. Spend the other 10 hours of the day reading, eating huge vats of exotically flavored ice cream, binging on Canadian sci fi TV, and carrying out witty conversations with snarky friends. Lord Byron, T. E. Lawrence and Harold Pinter would be among those friends, so naturally many of those conversations would have to be carried out by ouiji board.
Such accomplishments as I’ve managed to attain over the course of six and a half decades – and yes, there have been a few – were achieved entirely by happenstance and necessity. Not by force of will.
I still remember waking up one morning after a night of the intensest debauchery imaginable, staggering to the bathroom and staring at myself in that mirror. I liked staring at myself in the mirror: When you grow up a neglected and abused child, and suddenly great beauty is visited upon you, it’s like sprouting a super-power or something. All of a sudden you can fly! All of a sudden you can start fires merely by scrunching your eyebrows and read minds just by giving someone a sideways glance.
I must have been 22 or so. I stared at that face, my face, those amazing cheekbones; those enormous, wide-spaced eyes, as emerald green as Scarlett O’Hara’s and now ringed in enormous circles of smudged mascara like Bizet’s Carmen or Alexandre Dumas’s Mercedes; that sweet smile of a mouth.
The light seeping in the bathroom window was the illumination of early morning at its harshest, though.
Yup, yup, the flesh was going crinkly around the edges of those eyes. And there were unmistakable beginnings of marionette lines around my mouth.
Honey, you ain’t gonna be this ornamental forever, I told myself. So you'd best find yourself a trade.
And the rest is personal history.
###
I’m pining after my lost indolence this morning because there are at least 25 things on my To Do list. Sadly, they’re all relatively high priority. Plus my kindly mechanic informed me this morning when I took the car in for its oil change that I should probably have the entire strut system rebuilt –
“It’s an old car,” he told me apologetically. “It runs good, but it looks like it’s got the original suspension system in place, and that’s gonna eat up your new tires –“
“It’s all good; it’s all good” I said. “I figure if you own a car, you’re gonna sink $2K a year into it – either as a car payment or as a repair. That’s the price you pay for independent transportation.”
Of course, I was dying to unload a more complete analysis of the true opportunity costs inherent in the automobile economy, but I held my tongue.
These days when I deal with retail clerks and service professionals, I use the ditzy Golden Girls approach for charm since beauty has undeniably faded. Yes, I look good for my age. Looking good for 65 is not the same thing as looking good for 22, however.
I do think it’s kind of unfair that I don’t have an extensive staff of brownies and leprechauns scurrying around the periphery of my life to do all the bor-r-r-ring maintenance and upkeep for me.
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no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 10:08 pm (UTC)Just finished all four seasons of Orphan Black, which I loved/loved/loved and contemplating beginning on 12 Monkeys (loved the movie) or Continuum.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-20 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 10:06 pm (UTC)Really, the only thing I ever wanted to do was write, and now I'm even thinking, What's the point of that?
Really, the most gratifying things are immediately gratifying things.
I am really, really sorry for your loss. I've been reading what you've been writing. It's painful and moving.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 10:38 pm (UTC)Immediate gratification is hard to say no to. I never used to worry about my weight, but I've started weighing myself daily in an effort to keep from snacking so much.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-19 10:33 pm (UTC)https://www.timeout.com/newyork/blog/everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-womens-march-in-nyc-on-saturday-011917
no subject
Date: 2017-01-20 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-20 05:03 pm (UTC)If it's any consolation looking fine for 65 is much rarer than looking good at 22, because young looks good (aesthetically) in itself. Only Rodin found the beauty in age consistently. But all other sculpture seems to be of youth.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-20 05:09 pm (UTC)It's the mobility challenges and sensory issues associated with aging that bother me. And, of course, the neurological changes -- because some degree of artery hardening in the brain is unavoidable.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-22 08:04 am (UTC)2. That year and a half I was un-employed? I spent it on the couch, watching my apple TV. I'm still feeling the after affects. I really need to get that mate ticket so I don't have to spend my days on my knees checking life-jackets and scrubbing heads.
3. O.K. Sometimes I look at the mirror. (EX: Shaving off neckbeard, etc...) and I hate to admit it, but on those occasions I get worried about the bags under my eyes. Worried enough that one time I bought a tube of Preparation H to try and see if the trick was true. It wasn't and I was humiliated by the TSA summarily when I was flying off to work. Either way though, people seem to think I'm, like, 10 years younger than I actually am. Despite the gin blossoms and bags and crow's feet. So I got that going for me, eh?
4. You were beautiful at 22 or so, and you still continue to emanate pure beauty.
5. xo
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 03:21 pm (UTC)Enroll in the US Merchant Marine Academy, and we can picnic on Checkers' grave every weekend! :-)