Thursday, August 9, 2012

in the absence of oars.........





i wish i had something to tell you. nothing has happened since mom left. she, like a giant, ancient glacier scraped my soul to the bone. that was harsh. that poor, old woman, she doesn't deserve that. ok, so she scraped my soul nearly to the bone. it's actually quite hard to get anywhere near my bones these days. i seem to be building a rather wobbly but nonetheless thick protective layer. middle age sucks. well i'm sure old age and death suck more but i want to feel bad for myself right now. what is this new found padding for? that is the question. is it because i haven't prepared for retirement and this is what i'm supposed to live on? and what, oh what is the purpose of an ass this size. all i know is i awake in the morning to find pockets of chub where the night before there was sinewy, taunt flesh. ok, maybe not that but something like that.  jesus, i'm getting jowls and if my breasts droop any lower they may be mistaken for testicles. It seems that after a couple of burritos’and babies I changed. that is a god damn lie, i don't even like burritos', i just couldn't think of a food that started with b and one of my children was adopted so i have no real reason for the downfall. not that I ever was a tiny slip of a thing. when i was younger my mother used to say – yes, we're back to her.  she used to say to people. “feel her, just feel her. you think that's she's fat but she's not. she’s solid.” the “she” of course was me. growing up by the ocean, swimming and endless rowing had produced a body that could rival any east german female wrestler.



 i loved to row. to feel a boat pull through the water underneath you is something akin to joy. i had a small green rowboat or punt as it was called.  my friends and i would be in that boat every day that was fit to be on the water. recently, one of those friends introduced me to someone and said, "this is beverly, she's the one who told us what to play when we were little."  that was me, the imagination bully. when you played with me i decided what was going to be played, i supplied the plot, your lines and your fate. when we in the boat, i rowed and i was captain, we were either pirates, detectives or survivors of a shipwreck. even when we were just fishing, it had to be some sort of drama... we had to catch fish or we would be put to death by our fief holder or something along that line.  one of the girls was quite pretty so she was always the maiden and thus would sit in the bow and sing, the other girl being always jolly would sit in the stern and bail and the smallest girl would do the dangerous bits because she expendable. she was the one to go overboard to retrieve the bail can or untangle fishing line. she would sit wherever there was a spot.  there we were, out on the vast atlantic ocean, far from shore with no fear or life jackets. just me and my unfailing belief that i could control the universe.

i could use that girl that girl today. that girl with the oars. the one who was often heard saying,  “don't worry. i know everything there is to know.”
bev

42 comments:

  1. Dear Bev, some angst here about weight. I'm feeling that also. I look like an earth goddess figurine, sagging everywhere. What to do? What to do? If you come up with a solution, let me know.

    As to yourself as a child, I just downright enjoyed reading all the adventures your creative mind came up with. You might have been the one who told others what they would play but you were also the one I think who made playing a great delight! Peace.

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    1. thank you dee. i'm so glad when i see you little name. maybe my big ass is extra hard drive for my brain.

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  2. Yo do know her, she's there inside of you waiting for you to let her come out and take the helm. Beautiful writing, Bev.

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    1. thank you brenda. she may be inside or i may have sit on her and killed her

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  3. I wish you were feeling better sweetie. *sigh* And I wish I lived closer. We could compare size, sag, and jiggle qualities of our asses. We could crack pendulum and size jokes about our breastacles. Or we could just point and laugh at teenagers and say, "Just wait until they're our age!"
    *hugs*

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    1. thank you chris. "breastacles" you should submit that to the dictionary people. i wish you lived closer too. xx

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  4. I'm sorry you're feeling bad (hate days like that), but just think how great of a writer you are. You had me laughing by the end with your tales of childhood, and the post before that with you and your mom at the airport-hilarious! I'll definitely be following your blog and thanks for dropping by mine :)

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    1. thank you delighfully chaotic. that is a hell of a name. don't feel bad for me - trust me i've probably done something to deserve it

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  5. This short fat middle age woman agrees being middle age can suck being fat can suck but I would rather be fat then old and frail or dead. I often think why is it when we get old we lose weight and have the size body we wish we had in or 40's or 50's..............it is just so unfair and wrong........

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    1. miss jo-anne (that's what i call you). yes i would rather be me than old or dead but slightly frail sounds tempting

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  6. You are a magnificent writer. Absolutely brilliant. I'm excited to have found you.

    Aging sucks.

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    1. jesus, june. you're going to make me big headed. thank you. i really like your blog, so back at ya

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  7. Beautiful post and I love your site. It's very clean and easy to see what's important...your writings.

    I agree with the comment above...you are a magnificent writer.

    Thanks for stopping by A Little Unhinged.

    Gwen @ www.alittleunhinged.com

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    1. thank you gwen. i am going get hives from all the praise

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  8. What Brenda said! Adding - Hey, Mom walked the plank willingly. Wave at from your place of strength.
    You are amazing, Bev!

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  9. i'm going to have to pay brenda. thank you candace.

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  10. Wow this is awesome! Very talented. Thanks for the add, and I am now following you! :)

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  11. wow...you are an amazing writer. Just followed a trail that led here. So happy I found you. I'll be frequenting your blog often for sure!
    and darn those babies and burritos...I hate that they just sneak up on you overnight!

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    1. thank you haunani. damn you've got a lot of kids

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    2. haha...yes, sometimes, I feel that way too!

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  12. "i supplied the plot, your lines and your fate. when we in the boat, i rowed and i was captain, we were either pirates, detectives or survivors of a shipwreck. even when we were just fishing, it had to be some sort of drama..." You were obviously a born writer! I love your writing style, Bev. Understated, funny, with a touch of poignant.

    "i could use that girl that girl today. that girl with the oars. the one who was often heard saying, 'don't worry. i know everything there is to know.'" And I knew a girl a lot like this one. May the one you knew and the one I knew be rustled out of hiding ... I know they're in there! They're just obstinate. Try offering yours chocolate chip cookies ... or let her listen to your Elton John record collection. On a serious note: soul scrapes (with or without padding) suck, so this time I'm holding honey and waving!

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    1. oh sweetie. a comment from you is like a valentine from jesus. do you know that sometimes the kids would hide from me so they could try to make up their own games. but like the piped piper i could usually reel them in. xxxx

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  13. Bananas, beans, butternut squash and brocoli. I like the girl you are today.

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    1. not one of those foods can produce a big ass - gas maybe

      thanks crazy mama

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  14. Hey Bevy! I have the perfect books for this mood you know...

    A Hamster is Missing in Washington, D.C. by Ed Spivey (go right to either Les French, or There's Something in the Room).

    Crawling by Elisha Cooper is a good mood enhancer, and so is Funny in Farsi by Firoozeh Dumas!

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    1. thank you rhonda. i have a battered copy of david sedaris' "naked", which when i'm in the depths of despair i place directly on my face.

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  15. ...or, you can always check one of mines... Double Dare! And I do Double Dare you;-)

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    1. yes, i think i should. but is it dirty? will i dew up?

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    2. Bev! I don't write dirty books. LOL. Actually, Double Dare and Black Table are two of my books (I hear) don't give my readers heart palpitations.

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  16. Oh wow, so glad I found your blog! I am too tired tonight to keep reading, but that's ok, I added you to my favourite blog! Visit me if you get the time!
    Connie from Sadieloohoo

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    1. thank you connie. you go on and get some sleep. i'm going to visit you right now.

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  17. Love your boat description - what a visual for me! Children playing with just a prop or two - seems like days gone by.

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    1. thank you miss cindy. are you saying i'm old?

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  18. Sorry it has taken me so long to get over here! Thanks for the follow! I am your newest follower! Love this post!

    Robin

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    1. don't be sorry - it leads to heartache and alcohol.

      thanks for the comment and following

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  19. Thank you for the follow, I am now following back!

    http://quittingthegym.blogspot.com

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  20. Now that I read and think about it, being in a boat with just two oars and some friends is the perfect place for imaginations to "drift".

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  21. I finally accepted your gracious Liebster award. (Did I spell that right?) Thank you ... and keep getting well!

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  22. I found your blog from She Writes, and love the way you move through your essay writing about your difficult mom, your worry about aging, and your love of rowing as a little girl. Somehow all these things come together and make an impression of a life that while not perfect is still full of soul, and what it means to be human.

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