Frump

I'm feeling a bit guilty, mostly about feeling smug and superior. I really need to leave fecesbook alone. I really do. Especially the search feature. Which, really, is about all I actually use. Not my kind of site, but since next year will be 30 years since high school graduation, and I missed the 10th and 20th through no fault of my own, it's my way of leaving the door open. And I'd have liked to, not reminisce, I hate nostalgia, but acknowledge, allow for contact. That was the whole point for the account there. I post pitiably rarely, according to at least one "friend."

So, I searched. Found my sister-in-law. As a gawky and sturdy child and teen, next to her pretty blonde willowyness, I felt a frump. She married my oldest brother when I was seven, and she represented all the fragile beauties that seemed to attract such admiration, including mine. Took me a good number of years to come into myself, to know glamour for what it was. And a few more years to appreciate the value of strong bones.

I don't know what has gone on with her the last fifteen, twenty years, being out of the loop. I know she was dealing with some hip fractures a while back. But in her photo, one she chose, presumably thought flattering, she looks a lot more than nine years older than I am. And there is an eleven year old inside of me feeling vilely satisfied.

On the other hand, I also found my nieces, one with a photo. (I'm not about to contact any of them.) She wound up with her mother's white rose endurance, the genetics that gave me a powerful nose, and the roundness of my mother's Irish peasant stock. And the tender hearted seven year old feels bad, wants to give her a hug and sit next to her so she won't feel alone. As far as I know, she has all the friends she wants, but seven year olds have a limited view on this.

Sometime next year, after the 'Reunion', if there is one, I will delete the account completely. It's only feeding some of my worst prurient impulses. Which usually just run to nosiness, and in my job that's an asset. I do try to keep it at work. I don't think my friends would call me nosy, precisely because I channel it into professional use. As for the residual vanity... ah, well, we all have to accept certain flaws.