Hope Opera

Published June 11, 2015 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

Being a woman in her fifties is quickly becoming the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’ve done a lot. It deserves a celebration. It deserves a massive mother f-ing party where I register to get all kinds of cool shit like the cool shit I’ve given you people over the years. Do you know how many monogrammed sheets and baby onesies I’ve bought? You people are why I don’t have that beach home in Malibu. I spent it on a single serve Keurig you just had to have in your new home for two. It doesn’t even make sense!!! Remember that “Sex & The City” episode where the single girl threw herself a party and registered for shoes and everyone had to buy her a pair of Manolo Blahniks? Get out your credit cards people because I’m doing that. I need a celebration and I need one fast. I thought things would get easier as I got older. I thought things would make more sense with age and while I understand more things than I ever did before –I’m considered too old to do anything about it. I missed the train on a whole bunch of stuff and now the train is no longer pulling in to my station – literally and figuratively. Now – everyone, get your fingers off your key pads and don’t send me that message about how I’ve never looked better and age is just a number and shove that dumb thought right back in your little computer because it’s bull shit. Not the part about me never looking better because it’s totally true but the part that follows that sentence and never does. You have never looked better – for a fifty four year old woman – and by the way – no one gives a fuck. Also – it doesn’t matter how great you look because the words coming out of your mouth are still – irrelevant. I may have learned to treat my aging like I don’t care but somebody needs to tell the rest of the world the same thing. Being a woman SHOULD get easier over the years. It’s not like we started out life riding a unicorn through our teen years, or living on a marshmallow cloud through college or riding a wave of chocolate sauce through our first jobs. Being a woman is hard as fuck. I get that no one wanted to listen to what I had to say when I was younger – I wouldn’t have wanted to listen to a drunk girl high on Quaaludes who was lifting her shirt over her head in the bar and screaming “check out my tits” either. But things have changed. I have spent decades gathering really important information. Knowledge – no one wants to hear. My life is a fucking Hope Opera and while I’m getting all dramatic about the stuff I’m going to do – no one is interested in tuning in to the show that is my life and what I’ve learned. At least in my business. They want to hear from young people. They want to know what the twenty somethings are doing. I’ll tell you what they’re doing – nothing that will help you later in life. The best part about getting older for me is that I really know what I want. Achieving it from the people in charge of handing out the good stuff is a whole other Oprah. I read an amazing article called “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck” – I highly recommend reading it. (( http://markmanson.net/not-giving-a-fuck/#.c8ikw3:ZUu6 )) It talks about the idea that we only have a certain amount of fucks to give as we get older and that we should be more mindful of the fucks we give when we give and I am totally on board with this. The problem for me is not giving a fuck – the problem for me – is HOPE. I am so hopeful now of so many things and that hope is hard to come by at my age and every day a little more hope gets chipped away from me and I’m worried I only have a limited number of that too. I just spent four solid months of hoping something would happen and it didn’t. What if that was my hope for the year? What if I’m tapped out? Not being hopeful is more dangerous than giving a fuck when you shouldn’t and I’m truly concerned because the hope is being sucked out of me faster than fat from a Beverly Hills Housewife. When you’re young and hopeful nobody raises an eyebrow. And when that hope dies – it’s cool – because you will hope again. But when you’re fifty something and hopeful about things – the eyes start rolling. “I’m going to have a house in Malibu one day. (eye roll) I’m going to lose this last ten pounds. (possibly warranted eye roll) I’m going to end homelessness. (deserved eye roll) I’m going to sell this script. (sigh) Plus – you start to really believe that it’s not worth hoping for things because you’ll just be disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Well, losing hope is the quickest way to give up on life. So lets’ all give hope a hug today and hope that I’m wrong about having a limited amount of hope. Shit there goes another.

3 comments on “Hope Opera

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