And Now, a Word From a Basic Bitch

I am a sad woman.  I am a lost woman. I am aging rapidly, and I’m pretty sure this eczema is chronic.

I am one of those anxiety-posters on motherhood Facebook boards, the ones who crowd-source the decision to take their child to the emergency room, whose need for approbation is equal only to her defensiveness at the first whiff of judgement. I am a relentless forwarder of religious-humor emails, and I will not take the string of “fwd”s out of the subject line. I will tag you in every comment I write under ever Natural News Network story. My fear of real diseases is corrupted by the work I’ve done to educate myself about chemtrails.

To know anything about me you have to understand the intricate dance between panic and ennui that occupies my innermost being. I was raised to want a Thighmaster. I was raised at a Purity Ball. I was raised at the corner of whatever and who gives a shit.

Adults in my life have not been good bosses. All my bosses are Millennials now and I this fills me with horror at my own encroaching uselessness. I retweet memes about snowflakes. I don’t follow my boss on Instagram. I have to pretend I know what TikTok is.

When I was younger my eyes didn’t have these bags. When the hell did that happen? I plead with Sephora to tell me what to do, and I have spent several hundred dollars on neck creams. I was told that Lancome was for women my age, but now Glossier is using age-diverse models. I can’t afford either brand.

I yearn for cookies. I don’t know why they stopped making Snackwells. I’m going to try this recipe for a healthy version of snickerdoodles, even though the last time my husband told me they tasted like hockey pucks.

I crave the attention of my adult children. I don’t think Kaylee saw my friend request, so I’ll just send it one more time.

Catastrophizing is my hobby. My hobby used to be knitting, but the attendance at Crafternoon Sunday really dropped off once Terry read everyone the riot act when Jenna told her that positive racial stereotyping was just as reductive as the negative kind. I just don’t get why everyone has to be so woke all the time.

People are not defined by individual traits, but by group ones. And that’s why I’m not joining the PTA this year, KAREN.

I need leaders with whom I can imagine getting a pedicure. I just couldn’t see Hillary being much fun on a girls’ trip, you know? That’s why I didn’t vote in the last election.

My moral system is basically the movie Heathers. Real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly.

From the abstract vantage point of my computer screen I see a world where everyone is having more fun than me. The have cute organizer bins and I keep all the mittens in a plastic shopping bag. And here we get to the ultimate injustice: Why can’t I go to fucking Cancun? This is the molten core from which my indignation flows, and that’s why I had to block the Coopers on Instagram.

So, my politics is not really about issues, it’s about building my brand. These nail kits aren’t gonna sell themselves, ladies.

I’ve lost faith in my diet app. I’ve followed everything to a tee and somehow it’s not working. I’ve been spending a lot of time on body-positive websites. Loving myself at any size will be possible once I lose fifteen pounds.

I am exhausted. I am slightly drunk. I read Us Weekly. I am alone, because I am on the toilet.