Humor, Memoir

The Bloom is off the Rose

Today is my birthday. Another year older and I’m reminsing about my youth. You really don’t know what you’ve got till its gone. I’m pretty sure it’s gone now. 

The guys that work the front counter of my gym have been a real wake up call for me. I’ve been going there for over a year and zero fucks have been given about me. Ever. It hurts. 


Sure, they’re all under 22 and they probably can’t all have a mommy complex. I get that but not a one has paid special attention to me, checked me out, given me a special smile, or made any extra effort to be nice to momma. I can’t be that old. 

I’m not trying to brag, because I never had the notion I was attractive. I just thought men were doing their job and being chivelrous. They were just being gentlemen and I was a lady. I took their attention for granted. It was a bother. 


I spent, nay wasted my youth being coy and playing it cool as if time was going to last forever. Men might look but who cares if they look. I shouldn’t do anything to encourage them. “Make the bastard chase you.” as Hunter S. Thompson said. He was talking about something else entirely. However, I’ve always felt that it applied well to dating. Ignoring men has always been my philosophy. 

I guess at this point I should reiterate the fact that I am married and have been married since I was 23. So encouraging men to look at me hasn’t really been an option for years but it was always nice to know that they were looking. Deciding against, but looking. 


I suppose I thought that aging was something that happened to other people. I would always be young. After all, I’d always been young. Why would things change? It’s simple logic. 

I hate my stupid, stupid brain. 

I’m not old. I mean, I’m not old-old but I am older. I’m no longer in my prime. The bloom hasn’t completely fallen off the rose but the petals are getting a little droopy. Men can sense on a hormonal level that while I can still have kids, they may or may not come out wonky. I’m not likely to bounce back from the pregnancy either. You can smell it on me. My pheromones betray me. My pheromones are jerks. 

Now men are jerks, too. Or at least they’re no longer sweethearts. 


I never realized how much power I had as a young woman until now that it is just a memory. Now I walk through life thinking things like, “oh, okay. I guess I’ll just hold the door open for myself.” “I guess you don’t know that I’m behind you and you’re in my way and you should let me go first and say something like, “beauty before age” or something that acknowledges that I am both beautiful and young.”

I never was both but now I am neither. 

I’m annoyed that I didn’t have the foresight to appreciate it. I just want to grab those gym boys by the shoulders and shake them and go, “Can’t  you see how fucking adorable I am? Don’t you want to tease me?” They don’t. They want me to leave so they can finish their conversation. 


Now doors slam in my face. Men no longer let me in front  of them in line. I never get sexually harassed at work or anywhere else. All I can do now is wait to be an elderly woman and hope that people start treating me with respect. So, at least I’m a little bit closer to that. Happy Birthday to me!

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3 thoughts on “The Bloom is off the Rose”

  1. Happy belated birthday. You have many more of these milestones to look forward to. Wait until you go into a McDonalds, order coffee, and have the attendant shout out “one senior coffee!” without even asking you. But the discount is nice.

    Liked by 1 person

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