Momentum of Joy

Dear random individuals who express unsolicited sentiments about my driver’s license photo,

I want to begin by thanking you for sharing your honest thoughts that I never knew I needed to hear.  Although I didn’t ask for your opinion, I appreciated your candor, and yes, I actually did already know that I looked so different compared to that photo taken two decades ago.  The shock you conveyed was an added bonus, so again, thank you for keeping your personal filters on the low setting for my benefit.  As is common knowledge, every woman in her 40s looks exactly the same as she did in her 20s, so naturally any photo taken from 20 years ago (especially one as flattering as a driver’s license shot) should be identical in appearance to that person’s present reality.

For some inexplicable reason, it appears that I am suffering from a peculiar genetic mutation that has created a strange and irreversible “aging process” that continues to reveal itself more and more with each year that passes.  This medical mystery has left indelible creases on my face, wings hanging where triceps once resided, and saggy areas placed on random locations all around my body.  Lucky for me, my hormones have sensed the situation and have risen up in revolt against this anatomical oddity.  In lieu of a castle, they have established a defense line of random hairs along my face, supply storage on my hips, and the creation of a badonkadonk only Sir Mix-a-Lot could truly appreciate.

And though it was years ago, I feel that I would be remiss not to send a shout out to the gem of a lady who performed a test on my heart when I was extremely pregnant.  Given that I was carrying a mini human within my frame and being forced to have an echocardiogram to ensure my health and that of my unborn child, I had no anxiety at that point anyway.  Yes, I was also shocked at how much weight I had gained in the two year gap since we had seen each other.  She didn’t seem to note the significance of how I wasn’t pregnant the previous time we had met, but it was really special how she went out of her way to comment with such fervor about the difference.  Like all women suffering from perpetual discomfort and chronic sleep deprivation due to the small feet incessantly stomping on their hoo-hahs from the inside, I needed to be reminded at that exact moment by someone who was not my doctor (or even a doctor) about the excessive weight gain pregnancy could bring.

Thank you.  Thank all of you.  I am so glad that even though we aren’t friends and actually don’t know each other at all, you still feel comfortable enough with me to fearlessly point out how much older I look and that I have gained weight.

Sincerely yours,

No One Ever

***MoJo***

This post is dedicated to Skillet, Sr.  You have been there for me through jellies, hoochie boots, mom jeans, and the most difficult and best parts of my life.  Thank you for never making the comments detailed above, and not just because you know that I would pull your hair out if you did.  I love you my dear friend and soul sister. –  Skillet, Jr.