Daiva *** July 6, 2007: WWOD? So, I turned 30 this year. It didn't hurt physically, although I have been very bloated recently. I keep thinking I'm pregnant but realize I'm just gaining weight. (I have scheduled my very first colonic, a 10 year obsession of mine, for July 18th. I will report after the deed is done�I LOVE intestinal health!) In the mental health department, I was pretty stable about the whole affair. After all, this is the decade of potential children, mortgages, elderly parents, horrible jobs, not getting enough sleep, losing all of your youthful ambition, losing what marginal looks you have, watching procedural crimes dramas, buying a dog, picking up dog shit, finding God, losing your freedom, eating low-fat, humping treadmills, taking calcium supplements, finding love, losing love, start drinking, quit drinking, dying your hair, eating organic, taking a meditation class, exploring the learning annex, and becoming a knitter. But I'm more than happy to become one of those homely ladies on the subway robotically creating a purple scarf from a canvas craft bag if it means I don't have to be the person I was in my 20's again. Our Lord and Savior, Oprah has discussed this before. In 1995, after revealing on her show that she smoked crack in her turbulent 20's, Oprah talked about how she found comfort in her mentor, Maya Angelou: "I shared this with Maya Angelou...and you know what she said to me? It really turned my life around and I say this to you, 'You did then what you knew how to do and when you knew better you did better.' And I'll never forget that." 1 I'll never forget it either, Oprah. I think the big "O" and I have some similarities, if you can get past the fact that I have never smoked crack, am not a billionaire, am not the guiding light to millions of housewives across the country, have no influence on book sales or anyone else for that matter, and do not have a former poet laureate and national treasure as a mentor- if you can get past these minor details, then you can see how we all share a likeness to Her. The knowledge that Maya (John the Baptist to Oprah's Jesus) was dropping is that we are fucking losers in our 20's. We hate how we look, we're afraid of being along, we want to fit in, we want to be loved, we have no clue what we really want but act like we do. "You did then what you knew how to do and when you knew better you did better." Like, Oprah, when we mature and grow into our 30's we know a little better. We develop a teenie bit more respect for ourselves and in turn those around us. Gossip becomes a little more benign and we use the word "wellness" much more frequently. Maybe some could accuse us of losing our sassy, tough girl edge but I would rather sip red wine at my book club then be drunk and pregnant in a gutter, wearing skinny jeans and mumbling the words to "Rehab." If you are struggling with turning 30, just think, What Would Oprah Do? Stop smoking crack, of course, and then make more money than God. - Cathleen Carr 1 Jet Magazine, Jan. 30, 1995 *** June 18, 2007: I love you. I know. I love you too. My best friend has a four year old daughter. The three of us recently had coffee and bagels together. Her daughter and I are very close, and we had a lot to catch up on. She was telling me all about all about her tumbling class when she mentioned, "the boy she was going to marry". Our conversation following that sentence went something like this: "Did you just say, 'The boy you're going to marry'?" I said this kind of quietly. I figured she had just let it slip, and I didn't want to embarrass her. Because, I mean, you should never tell somebody about the person you have a crush on, right? They could find out! That would be terrible. "Uh-huh. I love him." "Well...um...did you tell him that you like him?" I was sure she hadn't, because every girl knows that you should NEVER tell a boy that you like him...right? I don't even look at a guy if I have a crush on him. But she is only four so� "Uh-huh." "What did you say?" Uh oh. This was worse than I thought. "I told him that I loved him." "What did he say?" Oh dear God. Didn't her mother teach her anything?! Telling a boy that you love him will completely ruin everything. "He said, 'I know. I love you too.' Will you color this with me, Daiva?" I just stared at her, stunned. As adults we make everything so complicated and vague. We don't call someone when we so desperately want to. We text things we're too scared to say. We try to keep our feelings hidden, not wanting to be the first one to show them...like it's some terrible contest. If only it could be as simple as walking up to the guy you like in tumbling class and saying, "I love you." And have him say... "I know. I love you too." I wish I was as mature as a four year old. Love always,
Daiva *** April 26, 2007: Hot Wax I can't believe I'm about to tell everybody this, but what the hell. So ok, today I had an appointment at a salon, and this appointment involved wax. Along with the wax, this appointment involved something else, but it was not my upper lip or my eyebrows It's always different when I go in sometimes less invasive, sometimes more invasive. But today today I think I learned the true definition of the word invasive. Today, a very well dressed middle-aged Russian woman had her hands, and I'm pretty sure her face, near a place that not many people have been. I'm the kind of girl that has to be under the sheets with the lights turned off, and somehow somehow, I'm here in a brightly lit room with Enya trickling from the speakers, lying on a table with my little red undies expertly twisted into what seems like a rubber band, as a stranger puts hot wax on a very secret part of my body...God I hate Enya. And then it occurs to me as I'm lying there with my ankles in my hands, staring intently at the ceiling, that I have chosen this not only have I chosen it, but I am also going to pay money for it. In my head I start screaming, "Why am I doing this! This doesn't make any sense! I am never doing this again! OW! Get away from me!", but on the outside I am a silent adult sized baby who looks like she's getting her diaper changed. And the worst part is, I'm not even doing it for someone else...I am almost positive that no one but me is going to see the results of my suffering and humiliation. I have chosen to do this just for myself...and then I'm going to tip her and make an appointment for next month. Do straight men do anything like this? Are we girls just completely crazy? Please...if any of you boys read this, please tell me that there is something as equally humiliating, that you do just for the sake of vanity. The proctologist does not count... Love always,
Daiva *** March 19, 2006: The Very Last Girl It's 3:56 in the morning. I spent 4 hours lying in bed, thinking of all the things that I want to say to yet another someone who has disappointed me, until I couldn't take it anymore. So I got up, and then I did the unspeakable I put in "Must Love Dogs" oh it gets so much worse my mother gave it to me for Christmas and wait for it THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I'VE SEEN IT! Over the last 6 hours I have: cried, eaten an entire box of cous cous with peas and spray butter, checked my email obsessively, returned to the kitchen for 7 rice cakes with salsa and fat free sour cream, cried, and watched one half of a horribly unrealistic movie, and then it hits me I am officially a 28 year old single woman living in New York City. What happened? How did I get here? I'm the wacky next door neighbor or the grumpy sister in all of those sitcoms. I'm the best friend of 3 moms whose kids will love me until they get old enough to start to wonder where my kids are and then they will think I'm sad. When I was little I went to a lot of giggly girly slumber parties. After we had all put on our jammies, we would convene with our sleeping bags (mine was a Strawberry Shortcake one) in front of the TV and go on and on about how late we were going to stay up. We'd solemnly swear that we would watch movie after movie, and then someone would ceremoniously press play on the VCR. Inevitably, by the end of the very first movie, all of the other girls would be asleep including the girl that tried to get me to do the hand-in-hot-water thing to the first few to fall asleep. As the credits rolled, I would look around, hoping against hope that one of the other girls would still be awake. They never were. So quietly, and feeling like the loneliest girl in the whole wide world, I would tip toe around all the sleeping bodies, press stop, turn off the TV, and try to find the path back to my sleeping bag in the deafening darkness. I have 3 friends who got engaged over the holidays. One of them, I knew was ready. One was trying to figure out the balance between her relationship and her career. She and I talked a lot about how it was ok to want to settle down and still do what you want blah blah blah. Evidently, she has succeeded where I failed. And the last one the last one snuck up on me from behind. A few years ago she couldn't at all understand why I was having a hard time making the decision to truly focus on my career instead of trying to figure out a way to marry the man that I loved, even though it meant maybe compromising my career a little bit. "I can't picture settling down." she said. "I just can't ever see myself getting married." she said. "My career is too important to me." She said as she stapled more headshots to more resumes. And now, the friend that I was sure would be up at the end of the night with me is not. Only Diane Lane and John Cusak are still awake (and just started living happily ever after, so I better finish this quick) It's happening again. I'm that girl only it's worse now the credits are rolling everyone is settling down it's 4:44AM and here I am again, pressing stop and tiptoeing back to my bed in the deafening darkness Actually, who am I kidding New York wasn't even "deafeningly dark" during the blackout. And I can hear some drunk people fighting, so I maybe I'm not the last girl to go to bed after all. I guess we'll find out soon enough - Daiva Deupree *** January 15, 2006: