Spring is ironic because it's a beautiful event that is the walloping harbinger of life, and then death.

It happens so quickly, all this beauty. All this fragile beauty that makes some of us so sick and renders others of us into zombies who can't drive and who think they can find parking down by the Tidal Basin when it's 11:30 am, 79 degrees, and more than ten thousand other people have had a similar idea.

And then the long summer settles in, and nature becomes fat and matronly and eventually she becomes ugly and jowly and then she becomes a haggard, disheveled hag who chases you away with icy words and an acid tongue of frost.

Bla, bla, bla. I lost some weight.

I find myself emerging from a cocoon of ugly and haggard and jowly and for the first time in years I feel light, like I can enjoy the sun. Call it postpartum depression that got stuck in the DC mail; call it sudden impending modest amounts of hotness getting to my head; call it really bad timing, considering that I'm here and feeling good and pretty for once in a long time, and there's no one to cast admiring glances in my direction.

Well, no one except for this one kid, who had to have been over ten years younger than I– he seemed to want to flirt with me earlier today, despite the fact that I was in feeding Thunderdome with the toddler.

I was baffled. I haven't really had to fend off the admiring glances for the past eleventy-or-so years, but it seems there is a first time for everything.

A first time for everything, Including having a very young guy think it's dead sexy that I'm getting pelted with partly-chewed pieces of bread. Maybe he ate paste as a kid.

02 Apr This entry was published on April 2, 2010 at 10:44 pm and is filed under Beauty In & Out, DC Dukkha, Don Meow!, Parental Samsara. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.