My Anthem....

"This can't be my life." I find myself saying this no less than 100x a day. I shall declare it the 2012 Single Fat Girls Anthem. I have Lady Gaga working on lyrics as we speak. Seriously. If marriage sucks... being single is the itch you can't scratch. And not for the reasons you might imagine. Sure...there's action to be had. However comma, when you haven't seen action in years it's hard to pick it out in a crowd. Very confusing. Riddle me this, I'm in Walgreen's tonight looking for some relief. For what I can't be sure. I was random aisle surfing. A card, a bottle of Gatorade...hard core drugs. Can't be sure. The drug store just seems like a good choice when you're single and surrounded by stupid Christmas music at every turn. I'm so with the anti-Christmas crowd right now. For no reason other than I don't like crying in K-Mart. It's low-end and far from ideal. Am I sad to be single? No. I'm more than devastated to be in the throws of the holiday season  and have no appetite for holiday fare. No cookies, no cakes, no random binge eating...all in the name of a new me in 2012.  What's there to look forward to? New Years resolutions?  Let's see...down 30lbs and a husband. What else can a girl wish for? Can't be sure.

So...I'm in Walgreen's. I feel compelled to buy a card for my ex. Why? He's a good person. So he made a bad choice in a wife. There are many in his shoes. Marry her hot and skinny...she gets fat...she divorces you thin and hot. Vicious cycle. I couldn't find a card category for the occasion. I went with "Christmas/ Special Person." It's the best I could do. As a writer one would think I could craft my own cards. Not. For $1.29 I'm willing to let someone else say what I don't mean. Even if it ends up in the trash. I don't like my work to end up there. Call me crazy. In any event. After picking out  a card that said " Sorry I sprung this on you at Christmas but have a great holiday" (which wasn't easy mind you...thank you random lonely heart writer out there...owe you one) I went in search of relief. I'm beyond depressed to say I didn't find it in the chocolate aisle. Seriously. Those stupid exploding Hershey Kiss concoctions couldn't even excite me. I went straight for an aisle labeled "Pain Relief" I don't know what I expected to find. The Grinch? A bitter red faced recovering alcoholic Santa? Crack? I could have made a case for any of the above. Instead I found band-aides and aspirin. A bit tame. If I were in charge of Walgreen's....the pain aisle would be Shiraz and Shit Food. That's pain relief. Band-aides? Seriously? Isn't that what marriage is? I'm looking for relief here. Damn chain stores...

I moved to the solutions aisle...tampons and condoms. This flows. You don't need one without the other. Perhaps this is life's solution to marriage. If you wear a condom and she never has a period...pointless. If you have a period and he doesn't wear a condom...clearly an underachiever. Bitter? Perhaps. The holidays bring it out in me. Don't get me wrong. Under normal circumstances I'm throwing down Christmas cookies with the best of them. Typically I have a chocolate ring in the crease of my mouth from October to December. I've traded that for a red wine hallo. Red teeth look better than 40lbs of fat. Try it. It works. Nothing like a little drama to make your New Year's dress fit. I left Walgreen's with a card for the ex and a tube of triple anti-biotic ointment. Again, "This can't be my life." What does this say about 2012? Less guilt and germs. I can live with that.

If it all seems a little "slit your wrist" ...I give you my immediate circle of friends. By immediate I mean whomever is available to drink wine with me at the precise moment I am in need of "pain relief." Trust me...there's no aisle for this crowd. I use to come home to "What's for dinner?" A phrase that sounds like "@#$%^&* "to me.  It confuses me to this day. What's on speed dial was my typical answer. I bring you to my current life. Whilst there isn't anyone suggesting I enter the kitchen.... there is a ghetto red wine crowd drinking 40's on the street corner going by the code name "friends." Seriously. When someone pulls up to your house in a Beamer and tells you they've been at social services all day trying to get on Food Stamps but couldn't bcs they didn't declare enough rent and chose to drink 40s based upon the delivery of this news....how am I not cutting my wrists with the knives I never sharpened bcs I didn't know any better? Add to that....the car broke down and we had to wait an hour so we drank the 40's in front of the very people who could have put food on our table but saw we drove a Beamer and could afford beer....I'll take a quick plunge off the dock for 2000.

"This can't be my life" is rolling off the tongue to the tune of "I'll have another." I'm a "something to look forward to" kind of person. So I'm going home for Christmas. Good times. Mother still believes in Santa and I've asked Grandma to spend the night so I have someone to drink with. *Insert catch phrase here* "This can't be my life." Does Hallmark make a card for this? I think not. My only hope at sanity is getting boxed Lifesavers from back in the day. Ah....back when I believed I wouldn't be 40, single and staring at 2 bulldogs for New Year's Eve. Mother never warned of the skinny, bitter single days. Exactly why she will be getting coal for Christmas. And I refuse to eat the cookies and tell her Santa stopped in for a quickie. Let's put it this way...if a man goes to the trouble of coming down the chimney of a working wood stove...he deserves all that is me. Fuck the cookies.  I don't suggest looking for that sentiment in your local Walgreen's card or pain relief aisle. If Santa is a little late this year...blame me. Just know he had something good to eat for once. Merry Christmas.