Coolness

I never really had it. But what I did have is long gone, along with seeing 130 pounds on the scale, the desperation of singlehood, freedom, and the raging insecurity of youth.

I have had two recent run-ins with my lack of coolness. They were both situational and completely related to the insecurity of the middle-aged and out of touch. Because I am both acutely aware of my lack of coolness and feel deep disdain those who are cool, I am a deeply conflicted person. Once when we were listening to a David Sedaris CD in the car, daddywhumpus remarked on how neurotic Mr. Sedaris is. My response was, "Well, maybe, but I relate to a lot of what he is saying. He's just saying it out loud. Most of us keep that sort of stuff to ourselves."

Some friends of ours recently had a wedding happy hour at a tragically cool tiki-type bar here in town, and I felt like I should have a big sign around my neck that said, "Mom," just like the wooden placards that soldiers at Fort Snelling had to wear when they were bad, which said things like "Drunkard" or "Thief." Then today, I wanted to stop at The Electric Fetus on the way home from day care to pick up the new Madonna album. This is a most excellent independent record store in Minneapolis, and I have been a customer of their for years. Too late, I realized that I was still wearing my nightshirt (a big, white one with "Jameson" adorning the chestal area), no bra, hair in both pony tail and elastic headband, fleece covered in cat hair, no make-up, and glasses. I truly considered not stopping until my way back to day care, when I could make my purchase in full hair and make-up, plus outfit (at least Jeans and a Cute Top). How could I walk into The Electric Fetus looking like THIS?!

I had to talk myself down; remind myself that I was being totally ridiculous. No one knows or cares who I am; I don't have to impress anyone.

I tucked in my giant night shirt and bought my Madonna CD, "Mom" placard securely in place.