Can you see me?

I made what I thought was a genius career move a few years back. I decided to go to beauty school so that I may be a happy person for the rest of my years. I had enough of running other peoples’ offices, businesses, lives even. It was thankless, low paying, exhausting, and often humiliating. Good on me for taking the bull by the horns and starting over.

Except something happened. While no one was looking, I got older.

I spent a year in beauty school. It was great. I mean really really really great. i learned and laughed and met some really great people who called me “mom” but not in an insulting way. It was actually quite cute. They would ask for my advice specifically, because I had a different perspective than their peers. Especially love life kind of stuff because they all Loooooved Neil. If I had landed a guy like that, I must have done something right. Right? And I also met and fell totally in love with Lonnie, who was and is such a huge inspiration to me. He was my teacher and friend and if he would just move to Denver and open a salon, I wouldn’t be needing to write this current blog post.

So here I am now, attempting to get a job in the beauty industry when I am sneaking up on 37 years of age. This job I am trying so hard to get isn’t much more than slave labor traded for advanced education. I need not be skilled. I just need to have a good personality and look the part. I am beginning to think that I would have equal success trying to be an actress in Hollywood at this age. Or my personality is no longer one that is desired in the world. Either way? Awesome. Has my option for greatness simply expired? Am i just too late? If 40 is the new 30, how can 36 be the new retirement age?

While attempting to get a job, I have been mastering my housewife skills. I cook and I clean. I go to the gym and I read. I take care of our pets and I occasionally blog about my garden. And I am here to tell you that it all sucks. No one cares how you made the tilapia taste so yummy and kept it healthy. No one cares that you swept up a pile of dog hair that was big enough to make a whole new dog with. No one cares that you painted the living room a beautiful shade of green. No one cares that squirrels are eating your tomatoes and certainly no one cares that you ran your ass of at the gym this morning, like you may or may not do every morning. and really, no one should care. it is just that i care so much about all of these trivial things because, right now, they are all i have. and it making me bonkers.

well thank god for one person. And that person is this old guy at my gym who always says to me “how is your foot? looking good! Keep up the good work!”. he remembers when I screwed up my foot a while back. He likes to check in with me. for some reason, he actually does care that I ran my ass off at the gym this morning, like I do every morning. There are some days when he is the only person i speak to, besides Neil.

I doubt this rad old man knows that I am struggling with unemployment and thankless housewifeitude. He doesn’t know that I feel invisible and useless. I never told him that I haven’t slept through a whole night in months. He just sees me working hard and acknowledges it. He actually sees me and it always makes my day. I want to be him when I grow up. Or at least I would like to cut his hair when I get a job.