You know how I hate to do it, but I had to put on my big girl panties the other day. However, don’t you worry; I promptly showed them to everyone, so the world is balanced once again (apart from it ending in a few short hours, that is).
It all started when I found out my ex-father-in-law passed away earlier this week. I understood the devastation this caused my ex-family-in-law, and I wanted to help. Secretly, I hoped there was some way to help behind the scenes, but noooo. The family wanted me at the funeral. So I had to show up, where I would see my ex and the other woman (whom he later married and bred with) for the first time in over a decade. The skank wife is about five years younger than I am, and was always cuter than I was, even at my peak. (Or rather I was cute, and she was sexy. And we can see how that turned out.) But anyway, I slapped on some make-up, a black dress, and Grandma’s pearls, and showed up with bells on. (Not really, I nearly shat myself on the way there, but you know what I mean.)
Thank God I saw a couple of ex-friends-in-law right when I walked through the door. I think they sensed the innate awkwardness of my situation, and stuck by my side throughout, bless their sweet hearts. The service itself was gut-wrenching, and seeing my ex and his brother cry while delivering the eulogy was nearly more than I could stand. Luckily, their wives were there to comfort them. ACK. The slut wife (still smokin’ hot, damn her) stood and gave a tribute at one point about how the father-in-law had always wanted daughters and considered her to be one. I nearly barfed, as I WAS HIS DAUGHTER FIRST!!!!!! but then remembered myself and how I’d put such resentments behind me years ago.
Afterward, I spoke with and hugged all of the family, including my ex’s kids. (Awkward, but what are you gonna do?) But the true pinnacle of awkwardness – the moment the earth stopped spinning and everyone in the entire place froze – was when SHE (you know who I mean) came over and hugged me and thanked me for coming. A few short years ago I would have sooner punched her in the face, but I’ve put that behind me. I am happily married and so are they. So why should I care how everything transpired, when it all turned out as it should be? {Side note: God really knows His stuff.} And so I acted like a grown-up (dammit) and made polite conversation about her beautiful kids. It had to have been as awkward for her as it was for me, so I found myself sorta feeling sorry for her. (Also, she just lost her father-in-law and has to comfort her heartbroken husband, so it occurred to me that this was bigger than ME.)
I bawled all the way home, which was a good little toodle (an hour and a half). “Why?” you ask. “Because!” I say. “Because why?” you persist. “When did you become so snoopy and judgmental?” I accuse you. And then you go back to minding your own beeswax.
But, today. Today was the day, in a move of white-trashiness, I decided to climb the rock wall at the local high school festival…in a dress. I hadn’t planned it of course, but I really wanted to see if I could get to the top and felt like I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try (much like that time I refused to ride the loopy roller coaster at Six Flags when I was about 7. I’ve yet to ride one with a loop – it doesn’t made good sense to me – but I still wonder what it would feel like). So anyway, I talked to the high school football players working the wall and they kind of diapered my sundress into the harness thingy. M stood on the sidelines and cheered me on while the football coach made the guys turn their backs, and I scrambled up that thing like a spider monkey! So proud of myself (and also my contribution to the high school, as my panty-showing could most likely boost their sales – or not).
A finer lady may regret showing her ass to the high school football team, but not me. I figure they are juniors – and again, they’re on the football team – so they’re probably more familiar with seeing panties than any of us. And in resettling the balance of the universe, I am back to being a wreck. Because – let me tell you, sister- putting on big girl panties* sucks.
*Many apologies to my avid reader Nacho, who hates this expression (mostly because she doesn’t wear them, I’m guessing).
