By Ellen of A Girl’s Garden of Menopause
Dear Inexorable Passage of Time,
We had a deal. I would be giving up wide-eyed naiveté, an unfurrowed brow, and my original jawline. In exchange, I would be compensated by encyclopedic wisdom and unflappable serenity.
I can’t find my copy of the contract but I’m damn sure those were the terms.
Sure, I understood that I wouldn’t be as decorative as I used to be. But, frankly, I was never as decorative as I wanted to be. And being even nominally decorative was never as rewarding as I thought it would be. So I was certain that, by swapping the passable attractiveness of youth for the knowing glow of sagacity, I would come out ahead.
The results have been disappointing. Instead of wisdom, I have an accretion of trivia that is as reliable as it is lucrative. And instead of gliding toward my 50th birthday on a beam of pure serenity, I am exactly as insecure, whiny, and befuddled as I was in the seventh grade.
For example: last night we had a lovely couple in for dinner. I have known her for more than 30 years. I have known him almost as long. They are good friends—kind, appreciative, not at all judgmental. And yet, from the moment they left, I have been inventorying every aspect of the evening, seeking some hostessing lapse I can use to torment myself. Perhaps the bison braise could have been better if I’d added a dash of red wine vinegar to balance the richness. Perhaps I did not need to scoot down the hall to retrieve a salad bowl at the precise moment when my guests were providing me with an update on their troubled daughter. Perhaps they noticed that our windows haven’t been washed. Ever.
I can mine this vein of shame for days. Our inconveniently enormous greyhound kept trying to snatch the hors d’oeuvres. Our dining table is too high and the chairs are too low. There are odd, unbudge-able stains on the carpet by the door. The exhaust fan in the hall bathroom has been dead for a month. The entire condo could use about $100,000 in renovations. This is not the way it was supposed to be.
All attempts to reach the customer service department have been fruitless. Even without my delinquent quotient of beautifully aged wisdom, I can deduce that I have been swindled.
Please refund my original jawline and my unfurrowed brow immediately. (You can keep the wide-eyed naiveté.) Otherwise I will contact the Better Business Bureau, the Channel 4 I-Team, and every lawyer in my circle of friends.
Jane Gassner
All Top Stories 
