First of all, my apologies for making you repeat yourself twice when you yelled at me across the hot tub at the community pool the other morning.
Admittedly, I was preoccupied with trying to determine whether the giant roll in front of my bathing suit bottoms was a result of bubbles or pudge. After a moment or two of finger poking, the answer was revealed: pudge.
The second time I couldn't hear you over or around the back hair of the gentleman sitting next to me. It may have actually been thick enough to affect the acoustics.
When I finally heard you telling me I could be pretty if I smiled, I apologize for not immediately smiling. I assume that was the reaction you were hoping for, but...well...fuck you Granny.
If it wasn't so hard to have a conversation amidst the bubbles and the back hair, I might have told you that I haven't really smiled since October.
Unemployment can do that to a person.
Yes, I am unemployed. You and the other grannies in the morning aquafit classes I've been attending have been looking at me kind of strangely. Being the youngest person in the class by at least 35 years does make me stand out, and I'm sure you're wondering why I don't have anything better to do weekday mornings.
As it turns out, I really don't have anything better to do. Should finding gainful employment not ever work out for me again, I'm considering releasing a work-out DVD titled, "Floating With the Old People." It'll feature 55 minutes of me, in a pool, waving my arms and straddling a water noodle while surrounded by octogenarians. Also straddling water noodles. Clearly, I'm still fleshing the idea out.
The point is, Granny, that I have no job. I used to have a part-time job working with...well...other grannies and assorted old people at a seniors centre, in addition to my full-time job, but then I lost the part-time job too.
I lost my mortgage paying job because my position was "terminated," I lost my grocery paying job because the senior centre is going bankrupt, and I've kind of lost all hope since then.
By now you're probably about to say something trite, like...at least you have your health.
Granny - I'm a 35 year-old woman whose nipples are not yet grazing my knees, and yet, I have more difficulty getting out of the pool than you do. In fact, I have to wait until all the other grannies are out of the pool, otherwise there would be a grey-haired line-up behind me as I try to haul myself up the ladder.
First, my vagina exploded over the summer. No, seriously, it did. As if that weren't bad enough, shortly after I lost my job and all the health benefits that went with it, my lower back woke up one morning and declared, "I quit this bitch." And quit it did.
In the months since the terrible morning my back was in too much pain to maintain a seated position while peeing on the toilet, I've been given a diagnosis. That morning though, I had no idea what was happening. I was forced to fall to the bathroom floor, where I stayed for a couple of hours, unable to move, alternating between blacking out and retching.
You may be asking yourself why in God's name I didn't call 911 once I was finally able to crawl. Being extremely old, you're probably aware that if you fall and can't get up, 911 dispatch will first send a goddamn fire truck. You know, just in case you fell over because you were on fire and just failed to mention that detail when calling for help.
Granny, neither you or I have time enough on this planet for me to explain why I wouldn't want the fire department called to help my half-naked ass off the floor. Just trust me when I say I have my reasons.
It turns out I have what's called a large herniation. One of the donut shaped squishy bits between the vertebrae in my lower back just fell right the hell out.
I'll need surgery to fix it, but before that happens, I need to get stronger and try to lose the nearly 30 pounds I've somehow managed to gain since my life went to hell in mid-October, all without hardly being able to move. Hence, my new Floating With the Old People work-out.
So let's recap. I don't have a job. I don't have my health. To be fair, I do have some great friends and family, and boobs that are still located where I've always understood boobs to be. Normally I wouldn't count this as a blessing, but having seen some of my fellow aquafit companions naked in the change room, I'm officially adding the current state of my boobs as a reason to be grateful.
Some days the blessings outweigh my losses, and I think I can pull off an expression close enough to a smile, though it may not make me pretty. Other days, I just can't.
And Granny, you caught me on a really bad day.
Screw You,
The Unpretty Girl With the Still Fantastic Rack in the Hot Tub
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