A few tips for the young chicks

I forget how old I am sometimes. I wasn't paying attention for like, 10 years so once in a while I remember I've already seen my 40th birthday and am surprised. Apparently, time goes on whether you are paying attention or not. Also, shit changes. Here's my list so far.

1. You may gain a whole bra size. Think that's great? Underwires pinch and your back hurts. This is only partially equaled out by your girlfriend/boyfriend's happy grin. Well, sometimes it's outweighed. How big do they grin?

2. Testosterone. Now you know why young guys drive like they are in a fucking video game and punch each other in bars. About three days each month you are lucky to stay out of jail. It is in everyone's best interest that you not be armed. Seriously.

3. You no longer give a fuck. This is nice. All that worrying about what other people think? Pretty much gone. Others realize they can't push you around anymore. You're likely to hit them in the head with your 4 inch heel - or hiking boot, as the case may be, and tell them to kiss your ass. You will mean it. They will know this. It will be wonderful.

4. All that youthful anxiety about sex? Also pretty much gone. MMMMMM. Straight women, however, have a problem because the older guys are getting lame. Romping about with a young guy who has some stamina may look silly. However, see #3; fortunately, you won't care, and your friends will actually be jealous. "Cradle robber" translates to "lucky bitch." Meanwhile, us lesbians are throwing down with other chicks who have lost their inhibitions. Go ahead, say it: "lucky bitch."

5. Your back wants to go out. This is quite painful. It is also an excuse to eat ice cream and lay on the floor watching "Charmed" for 7 hours straight. MMMMM, Alyssa Milano.

I could go on, but I've got better things to do. Oh, also you get bored with navel-gazing, which gives you a lot more time to do something useful with your time. So, for y'all young chicks,be anxious and enjoy that lower back. It's one of the few things you'll miss when it's gone.

The thrown bra vs. the mortgage

My friend was helping her mom pick out a wedding dress, which I imagine is an odd experience. Things just aren't as simple as they used to be, are they? Thank God. I'd shoot myself or at least be drunk 24/7 - if I had to live in some "Leave it to Beaver" world. Anyway, my friend was telling me her mom has some specific ideas and has dreamed of her wedding since she was a kid. This interests me. The wedding march has, historically, made my heart freeze with fear and my stomach turn over trying to run like a crackhead with cops behind him.

In short, I've long struggled with a fear of committmment. About a year ago I started realizing I was thinking of my relationship as in it for the long haul, with all the smelly stuff of daily life, had a heart attack and completely freaked out. In the past year, however, I've given this quite a bit of thought.

I've come to the conclusion that there are several types of lesbians. 1.)One is the drama queen who is in love at first bite and wants nothing more than someone to complete her. They carry invisible signs that say "Run! Am freak! Run!!" but not everyone sees those signs, which leads to much drama and sometimes, restraining orders. 2.)Then there are the ones who secretly long to be completed and deep down suspect the right girl will do that for them but will not admit this. These lesbians drink a lot. 3.)Then there are those who attempt to be in control of what happens in their relationships, thinking this will somehow protect them from having their heart broken. These lesbians do a lot of pushups and have the emotional range of a stick. 4.) Then there are those who read a lot of feminist literature and listen to shitty music by chicks who need guitar lessons. These lesbians are not as deep as they seem or wish they were. The list goes on.

There are also those of us who are just afraid of missing out on something and take a long time to realize that it is that very fear that makes us miss out on so much. This is what I be. Eventually, this is the type who feels the fear and commits anyway. OK, so there are lots of flirtations that won't lead to , um, thrown bras and anxious phone calls. But what is that in comparison to making the decision to have a kid together? To finally accepting she won't clean until you make her and noticing she got your favorite fruit at the grocery store? And you still get your bra thrown, but it is in a room you paid the mortgage on together. The terror of letting yourself plan to love someone really is a terror all its own. Year after year, it changes, as the stupid things of daily life get washed and break and get paid and shed and fall and smell and come off of ebay. And as it changes, it gets easier in some ways, and in some ways, becomes a lot harder, because you have to become more and more real with every turn.
As for me, after 3 1/2 years, multiple freakouts, 24 mortgage payments, two new kittens, 12 pairs of socks, 50 pounds of tofu, 126 sushi dinners, 6 colds, 3 years of law school, 8 broken glasses, 4 Christmases and 17 stupid fights later, I am here, making a committment every day to be here tomorrow. It's the best terror I've ever known. I'd recommend it to the drunk and otherwise problematic lesbians. Really, you're worth it, and so is she.

My first day at grownup skool

So today I started my new job, which is an internship that turns into a grownup job if I pass the bar and otherwise don't completely fuck up a good thing, which is something I am exceptionally talented at. (Hey, it's good to know your strengths.) I also put my bar application in the mail. It was 86 pages. I have, obviously, lived a very full life. I started to include a bottle of Excedrin for the poor schmuck who has to pick through it, but I needed those pills myself after finishing that shit.

I like my new job. Seeing how bad people fuck up their lives makes me feel like less of a screwup. And we get paid, on top of that. So, that works for me. Oh, also you get to argue at work. Who gets away with that? Trial lawyers, that's who! yeah!

The office consists of two rednecks and a yankee. One of the rednecks is an ex stripper with no driver's license. Let me admit it now: my kind o' people. You can take the girl out of the trailer, get her hooked on $16 a pound goat cheese and fresh ground locally roasted coffee, put her in a suit, teach her to flip an omelet and fill her ipod with hip hop but man, you cannot ever take the trailer out of the girl. It's just a fact of life. Must as I love sushi and as many indie movies as I've seen, (many of which left me asking "what the fuck was the point of that miserable shit?"), you know what I want when I get stressed? Corn bread and turnip greens. The ex stripper and I will get along just fine.

So, life is, arguably, pretty good, and there seems to be much corn bread and arguing in my future, which is just fine by me. Happy new year, y'all, and if you start fucking up your life, drop on by. I'll be happy to charge you to feel better about myself.