Memoirs of a Fat Girl

I have a lot of cousins. Scores. And, like all families, I am closer to some than to others.

My cousin Brandon has just announced his engagement. I've always liked Leather, his fiance. She's full of spunk, and a lot of fun to be around. Her short stature and small features are a total contrast to lengthy ole me, but we always manage to have a great time together.

I am very glad for Brandon. He is all of six weeks my senior, and has seen more ups and downs than many of us could manage. One of those downs was a divorce, a messy affair at best, and I hated seeing one of my closest friends always hurting.

But he's happy now, and there's every reason to be. There is a another person, a wedding; a new future. His beginnings are taking root.

I watched them sitting together last night, all smiles and hand holding. They are on the brink of something wonderful, and can't wait to start their new life together.

As for me, the late blooming, emotional tortoise sitting to their left, let me tell you that I've had better days. Because ever since my darling cousin let it leak that he's getting married, I've been nothing but questions, doubts and upset.

Is it possible, in any sense of the word, to not believe that once you've broken up with someone, you've just flushed years of your life away? I was 24 when I met Jess, and wish from the bottom of my heart that I'd learned my lesson at 25, not 30. And even after that, my still bigger wish is to have been strong enough, way back when, to let him go, instead of always playing L'il Miss Fixit.

What would I be like now if I'd never met him? Would I be a happier person, more open to all the experiences that love has to offer? Would I be engaged or married? Would I not have gotten depressed, and have an amazing job right now? Would I still be thin?

Would I not have so many questions? Would I not whine so much, because of course I know that everyone's had their hearts broken, anyway, and that what I have to say on the subject is really nothing new?

I hate myself for having made that mistake.

Facing life is one of the most difficult things in the world. But facing yourself is even harder.

And, as if all this wasn't enough, I was very nicely reminded this morning that in our family, there is only one unmarried generation X-er left.

Me.

No pressure.