F. Scott Fitzgerald said,

"There are no second acts in American lives."

Most people think he was crazy.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Why I Went There in the First Place

I decided to hone my Stepford-ness early, mainly because I wanted a husband. And not just any husband! I wanted a husband who was intelligent and well-educated and successful! Yep! I wanted a husband who could buy me things! Mostly shoes!! And cute sundresses!

And by-and-large, those guys love Stepford.

So, at nineteen, I thought, "Okay. This is cool. I can do this. No prob. You want me to pretend to be something I'm not? Hey. It's all good. As long as I've got my shoes, I'm happy."
Except I wasn't really.

For over twenty-five years, I was the soccer mom and the Stepford wife and the Betty Crocker and the Suzy Homemaker, when all I really wanted to be was Katherine Hepburn and Princess Grace and Susan B. Anthony and Pat Benetar with a dash of Sean Connery and Weezie Jefferson thrown in.

But when my baby left the nest (for Philly of all the godforsaken places), I said "To Heck with this!"
(You can well imagine it took people by surprise. People who have known me for years are still scratching their heads and saying 'WTF?')

It was the perfect storm--my daughter (not her real name) leaving, my menopause (which should be called meno-quit, because that's what it did) starting, my school getting a completely new administration, and my job becoming more and more difficult--I was ready for a 'do-over.' And, as I said earlier, that required me to go back to the beginning and figure out, yet again, who I really was.

Call it anything you like--moving forward, feeding one's soul, getting back to basics, re-evaluating one's life--but for me, it's my Second Act. And the curtain is up.

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