PART TWO: But that’s where it is hard for me, not letting this one grievance spread its poison. It’s like yanking on a thread and having an entire pattern fall apart before you. I can’t lose weight. I never was successful at a career. My family is insane. All those dreams I had of my future when I was a young panda never panned out. This is what I wake up with and carry around all day, and most of the time I try not to feed the beast because it does nothing but dig the ditch deeper. Yes, my high school friends went on to greater things, earning degrees from prestigious colleges, becoming doctors and lawyers and snapping business cards. They collect big paychecks and go home for the holidays and aren’t afraid to talk to people in line at Whole Foods. But that’s only the surface I’m seeing, and just because one writes marvelous things about oneself and one’s family in the yearly holiday card does not mean that absolutely everything in their lives is marvelous. They have disappointments, too, dreams that never came to be, and we rarely talk about those things.
Honesty is the only way to combat the romance inherent in my jealousy. Am I disappointed in how my life turned out? Yes. I am. This isn’t where I thought I would be. The last thing I believed at 18 was that I’d be fat and unsuccessful and estranged from my family as an adult. It isn’t a pretty truth, but there it is, and it hurts. I am jealous of the author of Twilight, and I am jealous of Poo Hurler. I am jealous of people who don’t obsess for days/months/years of the few times they answered something dumb to a question. I am jealous of an acquaintance who, when she has a problem, says I’m going to call my mom.
Yes, sometimes life can be pretty disappointing. It just is, and to acknowledge it seems healthier than to pretend that every moment is magical. Sometimes it sucks. We don’t always get what we want no matter how much we want it or how much we worked for it; we see other people who have it and don’t their lives look perfect? But they’re likely looking to someone else and coveting what they have. I can’t know because I’m not in their minds, but I doubt I’m the only one who feels this way.
No, I’m not an average size, and my career and family are the envy of no one. That’s just how it is. I don’t feel like recriminating myself for feeling less than chivalrous about the good fortune of others today. Acquaintance, I am jealous of your supportive mom. Poo Hurler, I am jealous of your weight loss. Author of Twilight, your books sucked crusty swamp ass and yet you are blindingly popular, and I am jealous of your success. It feels good just to acknowledge that.
And now I can focus on the good points of my life, because I do not have to share a home with pissy Mr. Poo Hurler. No one can blame me for sparkling vampires. I had a nice day editing. I intend to broil a steak for dinner instead of unwrapping a gross diet bar. I have brought a zombie penguin back to the Magical Bamboo Forest to infest the state. These are all positive things that make me happy.
So maybe in the dating profile it would be okay under ‘Describe Yourself’ to say jealous – but it’s under control.