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?