Three cheers for Facebook!!!!

Someone recently told me that I post too often on Facebook because I’m completely insecure and need "constant affirmation" from everyone around me. Ok, I’ve given some thought to this, since I am on a path to self-improvement and enlightenment, and like to give consideration to things pointed out to me by others, at least a little anyway. Insecurity is, by definition, a negative attribute, but really, what exactly does it mean? Let’s check it out according to Webster’s dictionary, shall we?

Insecure in.se.cure adjective \in-si-‘kyur\

1: not confident or sure: UNCERTAIN
2: not adequately guarded or sustained: UNSAFE
3: not firmly fastened or fix: SHAKY
4 a: not highly stable or well-adjusted
b: deficient in assurance: beset by fear and anxiety

-- in-se-cure-ly adverb
-- in-se-cure-ness noun
-- in-se-cu-ri-ty noun

Hmmmmmmm...I’m thinking that insecurity isn’t really a problem for me. I’m pretty much comfortable in most any surroundings with anyone, I’m confident, and my marriage is far from insecure. Wow, ok then, I think I can pretty much disregard this individual’s remarks (I sorta knew that) and tell her to keep her opinions to herself. Oh wait, I already did that, never mind.

So this facebook thing, let’s chat about it for a moment. My facebook friends list is long, not because I’m loved by any and all, but mostly because I have four distinct groups of individuals that I communicate with on a more than regular basis…other “bird buddies” (being that I am a “bird” person), my old high school buddies, my “funny” buddies – people I have met through my foray into comedic writing - and my “other” buddies. The last group is mostly local to me, and actually the smallest group of people I chat with on facebook, although a few of us are at it all the time, sometimes carrying on conversations for hours. In some ways, facebook is like a “party line” on the internet, which I love. I do like to keep my facebook circle of local people smaller, as facebook has that “nasty reputation” of spreading rumor and innuendo like wildfire. Funny, I don’t really have that issue with the other groups of facebook buddies, but it’s cool.

Mainly, I love facebook because it allows me to express myself openly, as much or as little as I like. I enjoy the “tit for tat” back and forth conversations with friends, which usually leave me snorting water through my nose from laughing so hard. Happily, I’ve discovered that I’m not the only weirdo with a ridiculously acerbic sense of humor, and copious amounts of sarcasm to boot. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought to myself “GAWD, I wish I had known these people from high school were this hilarious when we were actually in high school.” The whole experience would have been way more fun, lemme tell ya.

I post because I have something to say...sometimes prophetic, sometimes silly, sometimes meaningless, and on the rare occasion, something important. Those who want to read it do just that. Sometimes they respond, sometimes they don’t. I rarely have people leave nasty comments on my page, but if they do, it’s all good. At least I inspired some sort of reaction. It would be far worse to inspire no reaction at all. Besides, everyone is entitled to their own thoughts. Mostly it would require me to care, and often I just don’t. But if they feel better, then good for them.

Facebook has allowed me to rekindle old friendships, discover new ones, and keep in touch with my family and loved ones in a really meaningful way. I’ve learned of several friends’ passing within hours of their departure from this world, and we’ve all cried and reminisced together, right there on Facebook. There have been births, and weddings (even my own), photos of pets, children and grandchildren. How truly extraordinary it is to be able to feel so close to those who are hundreds, sometimes even thousands of miles away.

So to you, Mark Zuckerberg, while there is much that “tweaks” me about your little social experiment, on the whole I am grateful. You’ve added a dimension to my life that makes me feel very blessed.


See you on the dark...I mean Facebook...side.

Sex and the pity…a middle-aged woman’s guide to “rolling with the punches”

So let me tell you a story about a middle-aged woman. She’s nearly 46, and truly ok with being “in her forties.” She looks good for her age, and occasionally she even looks fabulous. She’s three pounds lighter than the day she graduated high school, and she can still keep up with the “youngsters” although more and more frequently, the desire to do so is glaringly absent. She, for the most part, is happy in her skin but some days...well...

Ok, I’m talking about me. I am confessing something of which I'm not terribly proud. I had a “moment” this weekend that bears reflection. Did I overreact? Yep, I absolutely did. But it was a moment where I do believe I learned something fairly significant about myself. Who says you can’t learn something new, even though you’re an “old dog?”

So….

Bill and I usually go out for a bite to eat and a few cocktails on Friday evenings. It’s our time to chill out after a long week, spend some much needed down time together, and maybe hang out with a few friends. As a general rule, I try to don on something besides my “work attire” complete with heels, giant hair, and a smathering of makeup. This week, I pulled out a new sweater I had bought a couple of weeks ago. It is very different from anything else in my closet – a black ribbed little number with half sleeves, white trim and a rhinestone zipper up the front. It is not what you would typically see me in, as it is far more tailored than I usually wear (I’m a ruffles girl) but I loved that it was different. I even put on a red push up bra for extra “oomph.” After setting my hair in hot rollers (my hair was so big it required its own zip code) and slapping on my “sexy face” I surveyed my appearance. Damn I looked pretty hot! Mission accomplished. My insecurity about wearing something just a little “different” disappeared.

We went to the local watering hole with a friend. As I sat across the table from her, I just HAD to go that place…that place I should have never gone. “So, what do you think of my new sweater?” I asked with great enthusiasm. She smiled, “Well, I could never wear it because it would make me look old, but it looks great on you!” Oh...my...God...in an instant I was completely devastated. What did she mean? What was she trying to tell me? Now, I should preface this by telling you she is nearly 8 years younger than I am. I understand that there are things SHE would not wear, but I certainly would, and vice versa. Like I said, I really don’t have a problem with my age. Or do I? Her statement left me feeling vulnerable, insecure and emotionally naked. I took her statement to mean that SHE was far too young for that sweater, but I was old, so it was just fine on me...catastrophe. I should have gone out in a pair of polyester elastic waist pants, orthopaedic shoes, and a shirt with “grandma” printed on the front of it. It would have made me feel just about the same way. I tried to brush the comment off, as I know she meant no harm by it, but all I could think about was running out the door, going home and crawling under the covers to hide. So much for me being sexy and going out on the town. I bet Carrie never said that to Samantha on Sex in the City. Bill and I finished our drinks and left. And I did go home, crawl under the sheets, and cry. I’m pathetic, I know.

The next day I woke up in a funk, but as the day wore on, my funk was replaced with something more hopeful. Bill made it a point to tell me more than once that no matter what ANYONE else thought, to him, I was the most beautiful woman on the planet. And I realized that, at some point, we will all be older. It’s like trying to stop the inevitable. It’s ok to look “good for my age.” Honestly, I don’t want to be in my twenties, or even thirties, again. And for chrissakes, if I look at the photos of myself “back in the day” I look so much better now. Back then, I was too busy trying to look more “sophisticated” which usually made me look far older than I really was. Now, I’m more relaxed about myself, and where I am in my life. It’s all part of the package.

But to my friend, and you know who you are...I love you with ALL my heart, but rest assured, you’ll be getting that sweater, all wrapped up with ribbons, on your 45th birthday. ;o) Time marches on, dragging us along with it, kicking and screaming.