Wednesday Night

The Real Housewives of…fill in the blank. They aren’t real. I’m real. I’m not a housewife per say, but rather a wife of 26 years. I want to preface this whole thing that I do love my husband. He is my best friend in the whole wide world. This, however, is where I’m at…

I’m clinically depressed. My brain chemistry is totally messed up, so forgive me if we go astray. I will be on medication for the rest of my life – even then, there are days like today. Today I felt totally undesirable, unnoticed and really like a big, fat, worthless pile of shit. You know those days, or am I the only one? Your hair won’t co-operate, your rolls are showing and the double chin you thought you were hiding, well, let’s face it – you aren’t fooling anyone. I’m 47 and about 60 pounds overweight. Not to mention, I’m only 5’2″. I think, I may be having a midlife crisis.

I want to do better; be better; look better; feel better. But it’s the same old story – Mom looking after everyone but herself and then she’s too tired to do anything for herself. I was brought up that way. That was the behaviour modelled to me by my single mother of two. To think of myself was selfish. Even at 23 and 21, I still put my children first.

I’ve been thinking a lot. About first kisses that I will never have. I want to feel that tangible tension just before lips touch; the ragged breathing that catches. The feel of lean muscle against my back. The trail of fire are fingers trace along my side.

I fall in love, a lot. Fictional characters, actors, musicians – people who will never know of my existence. Right now, it’s Dom Sherwood’s portrayal of of Jace Herondale on Shadowhunters. Tight abs, leather pants, swordplay – all very sexy to me. And his eyes! All Dom’s – are totally mesmerizing. I torture myself with scenarios that will never come to be. Sometimes having an active imagination is a curse and a downfall. I wish that someone would whisk me away from obscurity and wave a magic wand over my life.

I struggle with validation. I need it from others. I struggle to find it within myself. I need the likes, the thumbs up, the comments and the hearts. I need to be told, “good job”. It’s sad really. I mean; I’m smart. I’m fun loving. I have common sense, and once upon a time – I felt I was beautiful. I used to turn heads. I wish I could lose the extra weight and have a Hollywood makeover – to show myself that I’m still beautiful; to feel beautiful.

Now, it’s past 11 on a week night, and my alarm will go off at 5:30. I will get up and do my 10 minutes of yoga and continue my repetitive days, even though I will be wishing all the while, that I was a Shadowhunter – strong, sexy and ready to take on the world.