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My Cherry Blossom bath gel says, in a little pink circle that it has “new softer foam.” (?) The lotion says that it’s a “new hydrating formula.” This year, with all of its resolutions, or goals, or intentions, is still very new. As people we try to make things new, usually new and improved. We strive to make our relationships like new, to keep our bodies young and fresh and new, to feel brand new.

I never hear anyone talking about being old in a good way. When someone says “That’s old,” they usually mean out of date, out of touch, grown cold and stale, having “lost that loving feeling.” Yet, in some instances, I like old, and older is better. For instance, I like old friends better than new friends. Old friends have been tried and tested; you know whether or not they can keep a secret, that you can trust them, that they always give the best advice or let you borrow their best shoes. New friends are still holding back, trying to decide how far to let you in, trying to figure out what your boundaries are.

I can’t help but wonder sometimes about myself and the “new” that awaits me. If I ever do get proposed to, do get married, have children, be published, will it ever be old? I want to have all of those things, but does the having, the surety of them, make them old in that bad way, in that way that leads people to turn away from them and seek out the new? Or will I be the one clinging to the old familiar even while my husband struggles to disentangle himself so that he make search out the new, the next? It’s hard to know my own mind sometimes. I know myself to be of a disposition that is easily settled; I am content with getting the things I want. I don’t lightly throw them over. I will keep and care for the things I acquire as if I just acquire them for years, but in the relationship arena, in most of the arenas of life, I am untried. I bore easily sometimes, but luckily for whatever poor soul I marry, I don’t bore of people easily, nor tire of them. I don’t look to any one person for all of my amusement and fun, nor all of my seriousness and care. I think if I stay balanced, I cn keep my head. One can only hope.

Already, after waking up sore from the day before yesterday, the gym is getting old, but I plan to go tonight anyway, after I’ve eaten and changed. I can feel the changes in my body from the last couple of months’ haphazard attention to fitness. It is also important for me to go on my own, with no Mr. Perfect to meet, if for no other reason than to send the subconscious message to myself that with or without Mr. P, this is something I am doing for myself because I want to…although, it can’t be very subconscious if I’m conscious enough of it to write it, can it? Ah well…

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