B.S. #5 — SHORT QUIRK

Popeye Taught Me That Words Can’t Define Me

Meet my new spinach-eating guru

Photo by Wikimedia Commons — cropped and edited by author

Something strange is happening — more and more people are using the word “cute” to describe me. Not only that, I heard there’s a rumor going ‘round that I’m “quirky.”

Shiver me timbers — I yam disgustipated!

Is this really the older woman I’ve become?! I was aiming for something more ostentatious, such as witty, complex, or downright awesome. But it appears I’m destined to become a “cute and quirky” neighborly retiree — and I can’t bear the disgrace!

That’s all I can stands, ’cause I can’t stands no more!

I felt squashed and deflated. But, as I reflected on my life, I got to thinking about the thousands of people I’ve met and the thousands of words they chose to depict, define, or categorize me. I realized that for the past sixty years, I’d been assigned a slew of descriptors — both negative, positive, and everything in between.

For example, my ex-husband would gladly tell you a story casting me as a despicable character with a whole list of not-so-nice phrases. On the other hand, at my funeral, my friends may (hopefully) portray me with a list full of extraordinary descriptors.