(Photo by Kevin Lehtla on Unsplash)
Lately, I’ve noticed myself changing and not for the better. I’m crabby even after my caffeine fix, and I frequently catch myself loud-sighing when things don’t go my way. Life’s minor annoyances irk me to no end — looking at you, Mr. Lexus, who thinks it is acceptable to go 50 mph on the express lane, despite my polite honking.
I’m not even 40 yet, which means menopause is years away, so that can’t be an excuse. But a tiny throbby vein is setting up permanent residence on my temple, and try as I might, I can’t douse the prickly fire burning in my lower belly. If I was at one of those meetings, where everyone says a few words about themselves, I would go, “Hi, I’m Pavi, and I hate most things, including meetings like this one. Also, stop staring at me, Brenda. What, you’ve never seen a woman show up to work in yoga pants? Sheesh.”
And I have no patience for any sort of pretense. Gone are the days when I would allude to things, use flowery metaphors or coyly work up to asking a favor. And there’s none of that mollifying I’m-so-sorry-to-bring-this-up nonsense either. I presently have the finesse of a dump truck — I’ll rumble on over and grunt noisily before dumping questions or orders.
I was on Instagram the other day. An innocuous image got my blood boiling (I have leveled up from simple irritation to full-on blood boiling these days.) A lady posted a photo of herself in yoga pants, sipping a pastel drink with some silly caption like, “Psst. My go-to bliss after a crazy workout is this purple chai tea frapuccito (sp). Don’t tell anyone! #chailover.”
First, dear lady, shut up!
Secondly, you have a full face of makeup on. Unless you miraculously don’t have sweat glands, there’s no way you look that dewy after a workout!
Thirdly, stop appropriating my chai culture. And you sound ridiculous when you say chai tea! It is chai OR tea, not both!
See? I’m turning into a grumpy old lady. All I need is a rickety rocking chair and a sign that says, “Stay off my lawn!”
And in keeping with the general theme of sourness and dourness, I will drop ten (unsolicited) opinions.
- Can we stop pretending that the Marvel Cinematic Universe is God’s gift to humankind? Hollywood, please, not another summer filled with superhero movies.
- Sushi sucks. There, I said it.
- If I have to hear “Ohmygod I can’t even” one more time, so help me, God! Can’t even what? Form a coherent sentence?
- Twinkies taste awful. AWFUL. It tastes like the stuff that clogs your arteries.
- Anyone who responds with a snotty, “I don’t see race or color. I see humans.” Why thank you for erasing the identities of every BIPOC. How would you like your chai tea? Colonized?
- Nobody cares about Ellen or a plastic Kardashian. Can we please stop giving them attention?
- The movie isn’t always better. I mean, have you even read the ‘Song of Ice and Fire’ series? How can you capture that magic, except in your imagination? Because half-baked prequels and CGI sure ain’t going to cut it.
- Wetzels-Pretzels over Auntie Anne’s, Mac over Windows, Philz over Starbucks, and people’s lives over property.
- “I’m so OCD, I can’t even!” OCD is an actual disorder. You don’t have it just because you like to keep a clean desk. Stop trivializing mental illness.
- Influencers. Ugh. Enough said.
Well, what do you know? I am feeling a little chirpier after getting all that off my chest. Huh.
And now, I’ll go on a nice, quiet drive in the new car. Roll down the windows and smell some of that gorgeous California sunshine. Yes, I’ll do just that. Maybe even treat me to some boba tea on the way home. I’ve always wanted to try the matcha flav-
Who used up all the gas in the tank? Goddammit!