Was she a blessing or a curse?
Goodbye Lindsey I don't need you now
I can’t remember a time when Lindsey has not been with me. She is not part of my family; certainly, she is not a friend. However, she has played such an important part in my life that I have to acknowledge her. Perhaps she has been a blessing; at times I know she has been a curse. Now finally I can say I am free of her. She is not there whenever I look over my shoulder. She does not inhabit my daydreams or my night dreams as she did for so many years. I don’t know for sure when she disappeared although I have an idea why she disappeared. Lindsey is not longer a threat; she no longer motivates me. Is it possible after all these years that I am secure enough “in my own skin” to live my life without her influence?
Lindsey first appeared in my life when I was a child. She lived down the street from me. She was a lovely child, blonde blue eyed and much adored by her father. I also had blonde hair and blue eyes but I was not adored. I often watched from my front yard as Lindsey’s dad carried her on his shoulders as she squealed with laughter. Her parents threw lavish birthday parties for her complete with donkeys to ride, balloons and clowns. Lindsey came to my house to play in the sand box occasionally but she never invited me to her birthday parties. She was petite at the same time my mother had begun buying my clothes from the Chubette department. She wore beautiful clothes with full skirts and lace trim. In short, I hated her. We moved away but Lindsey was still with me. Lindsey always looked the way I wanted to look. In high school when I wanted to be a majorette more than anything in the world Lindsey was chosen. After school I would walk by the ball field and I would see her with the other majorettes throwing their batons high in the air. I could hear their laughter and oh the sound of the music as they marched on the ball field. It created a craving that could only satisfied by stopping at Sherman’s store and buying six candy bars. I did well in school, of course, but everyone knew that didn’t count. I was on the honor society, one of the editors of the school newspaper, and president of the drama club.
But I wasn’t popular, not like Lindsey. Lindsey went to the slumber parties and was invited to the school dances. I went to the dances only a few times. I danced with another girl because neither of us had been asked to dance by a boy. Lindsey wore the class ring of the captain of the football team. She was Homecoming Queen and later queen of the city’s winter carnival, a choice made by vote of the readers of the local newspaper.
I didn’t see Lindsey after graduation but by then she had morphed into someone who seemingly would never leave me. Lindsey was the girl and later the woman I could never be no matter how hard I tried.
She was the girl with the matching cashmere twin sweater set who was pinned her sophomore year. She was a majorette in college; her hair was always beautifully styled and shone in the sun. Later, it would be Lindsey who would get married in a lavish wedding while I was teaching high school and reading bride magazines without a boyfriend in sight. Later, we would both become mothers. (I did marry although not the prince charming I had dreamed of.) It was Lindsey who gained very little weight in pregnancy and was svelte again weeks after giving birth. Her husband was handsome and adored her. I gained forty pounds that I would lose until five years after my third child was born. My husband and I divorced. I had a career. I did become a TV anchor. Of course, it was all a sham and I was sure that one day someone would point a finger and say “What, you think you are an anchor. You don’t look like one or act like one. Of course, then the jig would be up. But I knew how a real anchor would be, someone like Lindsey. She was sometimes a blonde. At other times she was a brunette, but when she entered a room everyone noticed. Flawless skin, dressed in tailored clothing with not a hair out of place. She never spilled food on her silk blouse at lunch or had bad hair days that no amount of spray could fix. She never gained weight, never had bags under her eyes, and never looked tired, haggard or old on camera. Whether she was a journalist wasn’t important; she knew how to act the part. When I fell in love with my second husband she went into high gear. Hubby number two loved elegance. No one had ever used the word elegant to describe me. Lindsey who by know had a shiny blonde Sassoon haircut wore beautiful clothes on her oh so thin body. She lived in a condo with a balcony on the trendiest street in the city. She made blueberry crepes with French coffee and cheeses for Sunday brunches. If the need arose. I could slap together fried eggs with bacon and English muffins. Over the years she wore me out, trying to keep up with her. I scoured the fashion magazines for clothes that would make me look elegant. I dyed my hair strawberry blonde, than ash blonde then dark blonde with streaks. Somehow I never looked as good as Lindsey did. My husband and I divorced. My first boyfriend after my divorce loved to wear jeans and go to the beach. Lindsey, never a slouch or one to stay fixed in a losing situation wore the best fitting jeans and wore a bikini that showed off her fabulous tan toned body. The woman just wouldn’t give up.
All of the clothes, all of the cosmetic creams, foundations, lipsticks, even cosmetic surgery. but I couldn’t keep up with Lindsey.
And then she left. Maybe it was when my current husband who I love above all others kisses me when my allergies are kicking up and my nose is red, my eye make dripping down my face, Maybe it is when he eats the results of the new recipe and tries to find something good to say about it. Maybe it is because I have stopped trying. Those ten pounds are now in my belly instead of my hips. My eyes are no longer as wide open as they once were; lots of crows feet surround them now. I have spilled food on every dress and blouse I own but hey Oxiclean fixes it right up. Sometimes my short haircut seems to stand straight up and I can’t do anything about the cowlicks. But I have to say finally six decades after meeting Lindsey I don’t care what she does. She probably married someone with a lot of money and lives in a big house, travels to exotic locations on vacation, and has a designer wardrobe. I love the cozy house I share with my husband and four animals. At night there is nothing finer than floating in our small above ground pool under the stars. A big night out is an all you can eat buffet or steak and bingo at the Moose Club on Friday night.
Lindsey I wish you well. I really do. I hope you are happy. I know I am. If at some point you want to know how to remove a catsup stain from a cotton shirt or which jeans at Wal-Mart fit the best give me a call. I am always happy to help out friend.
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