armor

by rantywoman

A good friend from my high school days and my twenties and early thirties is in town this weekend with her husband and new baby, both acquired in her late thirties.  We had a falling out about ten years ago and haven’t seen each other since.  We have tentatively reconciled and I am meeting all three for breakfast.  They are here for a couple of weddings, which made me reflect on the fact that I haven’t been invited to one in about ten years.  I guess I am that out of the loop.

It will be good to see her, but I do feel a bit sad.  Sad that I will most likely keep things light and superficial, not only because I’ll be in the presence of her family but because I wouldn’t feel comfortable divulging what I’ve been going through regardless.  She’s in a completely different place right now, and I don’t see the point.  I will simply coo over the baby and keep it sunny.

I had once hoped that I would develop a fun cast of entertainment industry talents as close friends or at least find a quirky, unusual boyfriend so that I could feel, when faced with the conventional family success of my friends, that I was on another path that, while unusual and offbeat, was no less satisfying for me.  Alas, I realize now that was an adolescent fantasy that appears unlikely to happen at this age.

Also.  In preparation for my upcoming college reunion, I had kicked up my fitness routine a notch this year, but instead of losing weight, I’ve gained, perhaps due to the medication I’m on.  I had been hoping that pride in my appearance would give me a bit of emotional armor through these upcoming reunions, but unfortunately I may be a bit defenseless– single, childless, and now with a middle-aged body to boot.  Oh yes, and I am currently limping due to a flare-up, did I mention that?

A sense of humor is about the only armor I have left.