star trek

If you’re me, your shape changes in middle-age. Other things happen but I’ve been sworn to secrecy by the Coven of Middle-aged Women with Fancy Handbags. I’m mad. I work out, jog, but I am not shaped the way I used to be shaped, a subtle shifting of body mass. I was warned by the Coven. I didn’t think it would happen to me though. I eat quinoa.

And also, not to brag — I just did 50 sit ups but my stomach still protrudes. Why? Fucking fibroids. Yeah I said it. It happens more so at a certain time of the month. Why now, a few days before my author reading? I’m tired of this. I could have my uterus surgically removed. I just don’t want to be knocked out and cut so that I can have my guts ripped out.

I was waiting for that device in Star Trek to come out. Captain Kirk, Bones and Spock time-traveled. They went back in time and witnessed a 20^th century surgery. Bones said it was barbaric. Their time era is the future where Bones just waves this wand thing over the part that needs surgery and – bam! I could be uterus-free in seconds with not a one scratch on me. I think it’ll be a while before this is invented, so I’ll just wait for menopause. That’s when my estrogen level is supposed to decrease, which ideally would mean that these things will shrink. But we’ll see with the luck I have.

All’s not awful though. I’ve always had kind of a big ass even when I was a skeleton. But I don’t look good bone thin anymore and that’s a good thing – like it was ever a good thing. Now I don’t need to be always worried about staying a certain weight. I’m more relaxed. The effort would be wasted anyway. When you’re this age two carrots, plus 3 walnuts, plus one celery stick does not equal ninety-eight pounds soaking wet. It equals what your metabolism tells you it will equal. Listen youngsters – eat, smoke and be reckless, because, you won’t be able to later on. I’m not killing myself to be skinny anymore, so I don’t have to smoke cigarettes and eat grass. Since my shape has changed I look like a bobble head if I’m too thin. And I realized recently that the big ass balances off my big head nicely.

*A post of vanity, by Sandee Harris

I was on the bus. An acquaintance boarded. “How’re you doing?” I said. She had the darkest aura, the saddest expression on her face. She shrugged with a wry smile, stuck her hand out and shook it to indicate the ‘so, so’ gesture. It looked like she wanted to smile, but couldn’t. “Oh no,” I said. I let her be then. I didn’t run to sit next to her in the two-seater to chat it up.

Later she stood in front of my seat preparing to get off of the bus. She slumped over the partition in front of the exit door in the back. I looked at her dejected posture and said, “I hope things get better.” “Well… I don’t know… it’s not good,” she said. She continued sadly, “By the way I read your book. It scared me a little but I liked it.” I thanked her for reading my book and said, “I’ll be putting the good vibes out in your direction.” I touched her hands. I wished that I could make whatever was wrong with her go away. For the rest of the ride I imagined what might be wrong. It made me sad and my eyes watered.

Earlier I had seen another acquaintance with a sad aura. A very young woman. She was wispy and fragile. A beautiful girl. I know that she had experienced trials in the past and I remembered that because of the energy that I received from her at that moment. I asked how she was doing and noticed her eyes. There was something in there that made me sad. Again I wanted to cry.

I thought about the empathic creature in this old Star Trek episode. She puts her hands on a person to feel their pain. This is what I felt like yesterday: