Why Me Worry?

I once heard that aging would bless one with the gift of not giving a fuck as much, and I looked forward to enjoying that gift when I entered my fourth century decade on this planet in late October last year. Then came the elections a week later and I guess that gift doesn’t work on everyone because hoo boy did I give a lot of fucks about things that day.

Six months after that election, I think I’ve been giving a fuck about things more than ever. Particularly my safety, well-being, and future here. Will I still have any rights as a single bisexual woman of color by the end of this year? Is the modern-day Gestapo gonna hunt down “illegal” immigrants in my blue city? Will social security and Medicare still exist when I need it 25-ish years from now? Will California still stay blue? Will my immigrant/LGBTQ+/POC friends also be safe? Is my measles vaccine from childhood still good? And then there are usual worries (money, bills, making sure I have a working car, my stupid eczema, etc.) piled onto that. So much for that gift.

It’s wild; just a year ago I felt relatively safe here in the States. I even had hopes that all who hated TFG (and it seemed like a majority of people) would vote against him and not look back. Now here I am watching politicians who are supposed to protect us voting in inept clowns who will ruin us and what’s left of our freedoms in this forsaken country. When I’m doing more research lately on where/how I can immigrate (my day job happens to be in demand in at least two countries I wouldn’t mind moving to) over writing my latest work-in-progress, that means shit is getting serious.

I seek out escapism from the madness, like watching movies on TCM and hitting up beaches and cat lounges. But I also see others casually shopping from Target and Amazon and posting on those other social media sites as if there’s no madness at all. I should have found some escapism from that annual event of gauche known as the Met Gala earlier this month, but not only was I not feeling it this year, it looked a lot more tone deaf than ever. It’s a shame because I saw some of my faves attend it. (Some people on Bluesky defended the Gala saying it’s all to raise money for the costume institute of the museum. OK. PBS still needs funding and I’m not seeing any big-name celebs wearing high-end couture to support that program.) I’m still fighting for good causes…but after seeing this, I now question: who am I protesting with? Is it with someone who did their best to save democracy last year by voting for Harris, or someone who willingly fucked around and just found out that their Medicare is being gutted and are now pissed?

When Roe v Wade was overturned three years ago, I (who had already chosen to be childfree) chose to get back at the conservative asshats of the Supreme Court by opting for sterilization. If they were going to take my reproductive rights away, I might as well exercise mines while I still have them. The current regime wants to go after birth control and turn women into baby-makers and nothing more; meanwhile, my choice to get that bisalp continues to age well. But now I stare down a far greater threat to my well-being and future in this country. I may not have the gift of not giving a fuck as much as I age. But if being aware of things is a gift, then I got it, and it’s a pretty nice gift. It’s far better than being ignorant.

When Vogue Was Vogue

Nicole Kidman by Irving Penn on US Vogue, May 2004

Y’all. I was there when this cover dropped, and the jaws of many fashion hounds dropped when we saw this cover. It was simple, all the way down to the singular cover blurb, yet elegant AF. This is not your Zoomer’s Vogue, but what Vogue used to be when they were the fashion bible. An actual fashion icon in Nicole (who had gotten another cover just eight months before this cover), giving fashion. No absurd photoshop, no hints of anything tabloid-y, and no need to look for the Playboy rabbit head on the cover because this was a true fashion magazine cover, dahling. And that’s on period.