taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Monday, July 04, 2005

Independence Day! How fitting. I am now independent! Hooray!

Spent the weekend going to barbecues--seems like everyone was having grilled meat and beer, which suits me just fine. Played some pool and lost, went over to the ex's house and attempted to powerwash the deck (quite fun, you should try it sometime), and lit off some Target firecrackers in the parking lot.

I think my neighbors officially think I'm insane. I can imagine it now--"That woman's planning to live next door to her ex-husband? And she's lighting off firecrackers and it appears from the contents of her trash that she lives on nothing but bacon and coronas!" (My next door neighbors, who argue loudly in Hebrew, may not be pleased by the amount of pork products consumed in this house. I'm hoping the smell of scrapple isn't permeating their walls.)

Which brings me to my main point about independence day. For me, being independent isn't just about living on my own and supporting myself and my children. It isn't about taking care of my business and having a responsible job. It's all those things, of course, but it's more than that--it's going my own way, living my own life, and not giving a rat's ass if anyone thinks I'm doing it wrong. I strive to be considerate of other people, I'm a good mother, and I want to try and be a good friend and co-worker and ex-wife and all of that. But as far as anyone's opinion about the way I live my life, fuck 'em.

This is a new position for me. I used to care deeply what people thought. I even bought a navy blue Polo tankini one year because I thought it was sufficiently "momlike". That tankini haunts me to this day, sitting in the drawer. I looked at it before we went to the pool the other day, pushed it to the back of the drawer, and got out my tiny little string bikini instead. Who says I have to wear a navy blue tankini? Where is it written down that to be a good mother you must put on khaki pants and a t-shirt? People who know me will probably say that they always believed this about me, that I didn't care what people thought, but I did. Sometimes I acted how I wanted to anyway, but that doesn't mean I didn't care. But now--with my highly unconventional living situation and my string bikini and my bacon--now I really don't care. I'm determined to make my life work in the best way I know how, and no one can tell me what that is. And that, my friends, is what it means to be independent.

2 Comments:

At 1:37 PM, Blogger XLT said...

Mmmmm. Bacon. My favorite condiment.

 
At 3:59 PM, Blogger Prom said...

Freedom's just another word for nothin left to lose...

 

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