Why I Stay Home
By Jane Gassner on March 13, 2009
I have another one of those social thingies to go to tonight. I was
all hot-to-trot when I first heard about it, drinks at an Irish pub
downtown, 6-8pm. I planned the 'when shall I wash my hair, do my nails'
around it--all the girly stuff that makes going out an anticipatory
blowout. But now that the 'witching hour is drawing nigh, I'm all--eh,
meh, and bleh.
Because I would analyze the worm out of the wormwood, and because I
really do see this as Getting In The Way of My Life, I'm ready to do
some hard thinking-through. See if any of this sounds familiar to
you--and if so, are there any ways I can outwit myself?
- Going out means getting dressed.
- Getting dressed means selecting from my wardrobe.
- Selecting from my wardrobe means confronting that fact that nothing fits--and if it does, it looks like shit.
- Confronting the ways in which my body has changed, much to my horror and dismay
- Confronting that I'm older, aging, past the halfway mark, over the hill, out of the running--
oooops. Out of the running: that resonates. Clangs, in fact, and
starts me thinking about what it was that I used to like about going
- Picking a terrific outfit that would be the perfect costume (yes, as in theatre) for who I was going to be that night.
- Loving the look in the mirror. Not as in some narcissistic venture but as in, "Damn I look good!"
- Making my entrance, playing my character, seeing what kind of applause I would score.
- And maybe, if I was interested, scoring.
That's pretty much gone for me now. I'm just not really interested,
and I don't have the goods to venture on the stage as a leading lady
any more. So what I'm left with when I go out is--what? And is this a
good or a bad thing?
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