Fair. What’s That?
We all know that life is unfair, right? The idea of fairness is intoxicating but perhaps semantical. Bear with me for a minute. I’m sure to meander a bit as I share two examples of “unfair” that have me jumping up and down and considering medication.
1). My plan for retirement is quickly being slaughtered. I was expecting to spend the next 20 years heavily investing in my son’s education so that one day he’d have a lucrative career and feel morally obligated to support me in a rather luxurious fashion as I grow old and cranky.
It’s not fair that the goals I carefully-crafted for my self son, will be overshadowed by a national debt that probably means he’ll have to pursue student loans and will be paying exuberant taxes well into his great grand children’s college years. And although Jen at Juggling Life often writes about the wonderful attributes of young people growing independent, I really had been counting on the financial benefits of keeping my child firmly bound by apron strings.
The increase in income taxes I’m expecting, including the ones we’ll be paying to help off-set $25 billion for American auto makers who can’t get their heads out of their nether regions to actually compete in today’s market place…well I think it means I’ll have to abandon my fabulous idea of being put-out-to-pasture in a European beach house, at my son’s expense. My future daughter-in-law better love me. We may have to share a kitchen where I’ll munch prunes and forget to wear my dentures.
2). Perhaps equally unfair—I recently joined the gym (I’ve even been a few times), and while struggling to recapture my exercise mojo, I gained two pounds. Perhaps I should have joined Mrs. G.’s 5K Ass Project or Mrs. Schmitty’s BlubHer Overhall, but I decided to go it alone and avoid the shame.
But wait, that’s not the worst of it. My husband, the guy who only knows cellulite exists because he can see it on my ass and thighs? Yea, him! He lost four pounds. Want to know the ONE thing he changed? He stopped eating cookies for a week. ONE week. For flip’s sake, I could stop eating cookies for a year and still not lose four pounds.