Monday, July 29, 2013

On the Possibility of Reinvention

I was watching a sitcom which featured women my age so it must have been Cougartown.  I'm pretty sure that's the only show on TV where women are allowed to be in their 40s.  Plus it's funny.  Don't judge me.  One character said to another something about how once you're in your forties the possibility of reinvention has passed.  By our 40s, we are the people we're going to be.

I assume frequent truth from television sitcoms. I believe that if I'd tried a little harder I could have a fabulous career doing something weird and creative while still drawing a salary substantial enough that I would never wear the same outfit twice.  Like, I don't know... a wristwatch designer or someone who makes wall sconces by hand.  I could also eat whatever I wanted all the time while still wearing my new daily outfit in a size 2.

I wonder if knowing that this is ridiculous makes it more or less ridiculous... if I lived in a sitcom, I would make my living by writing pithy musings like this down.  And make bank.

Alright, this is nonsense. But what about the reinvention part?  Am I really done?  Fully cooked?

I used to go to bed every Sunday night convinced that the following Monday I would begin a process by which I would shortly weigh 20 pounds less.  I don't do that on Sunday nights anymore.  I do it every night.  If I could reinvent myself, I'm not sure if I would reinvent myself into someone disciplined enough to lose 20 pounds or someone who embraces her size 12 body with flair and style.

Maybe I could just reinvent myself into someone with style.

I also wonder if I could become a person who puts things away.  I'm endlessly determined to be organized. But I always stick the scissors into whichever drawer is handiest. For some reason there's a hammer under my bed.

Could I be more chill behind the wheel?  More focused at work?  Better with money?  More socially responsible?

I'm probably fully cooked.  I probably am who I am and will spend the second half of my life as I am now: messy, chubby, glaring at you from my car because, goddammit, you're driving too slow.  But, maybe with age comes acceptance.  And wisdom.

I'm pretty sure I'll wake up tomorrow no longer believing that Great Truth comes in a sitcom.

Unless that sitcom is Parks and Recreation.