A seriously bad obsession with Ally McBeal is in full swing
and I admit it. I didn't watch this show when it first came around. I was
younger. Oh man. Way younger. And it didn't speak to me. All these white, whiny
lawyers, hot and rich, anorexic and quirky, lusting and looking for love. I was
busy with my Life. Finding my Life. Finding the things that, well, they were all
trying to find. But I was on the ground running. I was the Elaine, the legal
secretary (albeit one with a little ivy degree) running in between acting gigs
and music gigs and directing gigs and Lainie Kazan gigs. And dating men who
were not my soul mates, but oh constantly wondering 'is this HIM? Should I
stick with it? Is there something here I'm missing? What if I miss it?"
Oh. I thought I was so outside the Ally realm.
Here I am. 43 years old. In my mid-life and wondering if
this is part of the proverbial crisis. But I now finally, oh man, am I about to
write this? RELATE to this skinny, whiny, exhausting, big-lipped bitch. I do. I
admit it. Looking for love. Wondering if she found it and let it go. Or if she
found it and it wasn't available to her and she should, well, wait till it is,
exhausting her friends with the angst of all that. I admit it. Here I am. In
the age where most women my age have kids going off to college or at least to
high school. And I'm single. No kids. With a dog who just had surgery who's
banging around my rented house in my new town in a plastic collar. Wondering
what the meaning of life is. My best friends range from 19 to 65. Most women
who are my closest friends are single without children. And searching but still
somewhat content with where they are. Most are middle class. Some are poor. A
few are rich. One is a CEO.
I looked in the mirror while Chelsea was doing my hair today
and wondered about that crease, that thick crease between my brows. And the
lines around my mouth. I wondered if its all starting to show. Finally. I feel
like I've been cheating age. Looking younger than I am. And I wonder if its
catching up finally.
And here I am, watching a 29 year old whine about the love
of her life, who's just bleached his hair, divorced his wife, sleeping with his
secretary... And yeah yeah I know, Billy's about to get a brain tumor and die
and its gonna make me weepy. I tend to find sitcoms and these kinds of shows 15
years after they are off the air. I'm behind the times. Happily. Because if I
was with the times, I'd be glued to "Jersey Shore" and some cooking
show.
But yeah. 29. 43. Aren't we all just looking for the same
thing?
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