Life. Be in it!

"You're on borrowed time!"  So said my oldest friend, a medical professional who is oh so weary of hearing about my aches and pains, strange tingling sensations and suspicious freckles.  I was a little confronted when she said this.  There has been the sense that the future is limitless and full of opportunities, places to see, books to read, experiences to enjoy; one day when all the planets align.

When she spoke these sage words it was with the clinical knowledge that at around 50 things start to wear out,  break down, seize up and become problematic to the enjoyment of seeing places, reading books and enjoying experiences.  "One day" may never eventuate. This epiphany was compounded by the news that a person who I had had a mad crush on at university had died suddenly.  He once declined an invitation from me to a friend's wedding because he had to run in the City to Surf Marathon. I don't think he made it up but he was probably grateful for the scheduling clash.  Sadly his lifelong commitment to fitness did not assure him of longevity.

Of course this was the first experience where I was aware of a life curtailed prematurely.  It is devastating to the family left behind.  Life is precarious and precious.  People can lead a righteous life in terms of diet and exercise and still be struck down by illness.  Other people seem to kick on to a great age, swilling bucket loads of toxins and not one anti-oxidant will pass their lips. But no matter how many inspirational quotes I read on social media I still need to be reminded regularly to live in the moment and to make the most of each day.  I know it intellectually but daily frustrations beat it out of me time and time again.


Anyway, I think we all have those moments from our past that are forever emblazoned on our synapses ( or is it just me?) and not even a yawning chasm of years can diminish the intensity of the embarrassment you fell when the memory surface.  One of mine involves this person and it is sort of odd that I am now alone to bear knowledge of the details.  I won't disclose them but suffice it to say I tried to convey my deep regard with a blatancy normally the province of male peacocks and Doomsayers wearing sandwich boards.

My crush lasted a few years and was not reciprocated but he was super nice about it.  We went out once and it was unsuccessful largely due to the fact that I was rendered inarticulate by my anxiety.  The evening involved a documentary film on surfing which was followed by baklava and coffee. Being more of a beer and "The Princess Bride" sort of girl ( at the time, now I am a SSB and "The Princess Bride" sort of woman) it was not really my thing and it is difficult to be attractive while consuming pastry.  I kept flashing back to the EMBARRASSING MOMENT. Conversation was awkward, stilted and thankfully over by 10:30pm.  There was no second date and even I was grateful.


I have not followed his progress avidly but I know he recovered from this and went on to marry and have children.  No doubt he thought he would enjoy many more years with them.  I am sure he never gave me another thought and I am sorry that I have wasted several minutes of my life inwardly cringing at my past behaviour.  I think there may be truth in the following:

And finally, for those of you who like me, having a seemingly "endless parade of moments" you would rather had panned out differently, a word of comfort from Marilyn.

Running Off At the Mouth

I quite fancy my dentist, albeit in a purely aesthetic way.  Of course he is far younger than I am but I still have an appreciation. I am just looking. It is impossible to ignore him when I have spent so much time (and money) in his proximity. Once I have checked out the lamp, the roof, the tasteful seascape on the wall and the interior of the very daggy sunglasses he forces me to wear, there is nothing else to see. My consideration of him has been intense recently due to my urgent need for a root canal and the necessity for many appointments.  He has also treated my daughter in the past.  She agrees with my assessment but places him in the hot but older category due to his application of hair products.  A fondness for hair gel does not rule him out for me.  He is good looking, well mannered, intelligent, caring and smells as fresh as a Scandinavian fjord.

Sadly, even if I were keen to make my admiration known he would never be able to reciprocate.  You are so exposed reclining on the dentist's chair, caught in the high beam of the lamp's relentless glare while he studies your teeth, and face in general, while wearing special magnifying glasses.  At my last appointment he and the nurse were chatting about these expensive glasses and about how the tooth seems to be a smooth and polished surface until you put the glasses on and all the blemishes, crevices and rough patches are brought into focus.

 This revelation caused me to squirm uncomfortably and suddenly I was cast back a good 30 years to my university days and my reading of Jonathon Swift's Gulliver's Travels.  For those of you whose knowledge of Gulliver extends only to the Land of Lilliput, Gulliver also travels to the Land of Brobdingnag which is inhabited by giants.  My recollection is vague and clouded by this mists of time but, in short Gulliver viewed  them as grotesque with their larger than life humanity and their enormous pores.

Keeping to the Gulliver theme I am with Glum (from the cartoon not the novel) on the chance of my high regard ever being returned. "It's Doomed....We'll never make it".  If the scrutiny of my magnified pores, wrinkles and blemishes hadn't dashed any chance I had  my tendency to drool would have.  The rubber sheet thing that is stretched across your face and somehow in your mouth, suffocating and causing the gag reflex to go on high alert caused me to produce an geyser-like stream of dribble which ran all down the side of my face to the back of my neck.  A fistful of tissues was produced to mop up but my humiliation was complete. It was an involuntary response which the lovely man did say was an occupational hazard but when I could finally speak intelligibly I said, "I think I could dribble for Australia."  He replied, "Yes I think you could too."