![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Almost But Not Quite
4/1/07 11:25 pmToday I was putting some shellac on a couple of shelves I'd cut to fit in an old baker's cabinet we have, since the old ones were falling apart. I had measured (I thought) carefully, and cut carefully, and was pretty pleased with the result.
Carried them in, and they're both an inch too short. I got depressed and went to bed for the day, while Mike cut support blocks to put in the cabinet so the shelves would work. In passing, and not meaning anything, he said, "They almost fit -- almost, but not quite."
Almost, but not quite. That right there is the story of my life. All my life I've been almost, but not quite. To my father, I was almost, but not quite -- I wasn't a boy. To my mother, I was almost, but not quite -- I wasn't a popular social butterfly. To my grandparents, I was almost, but not quite -- not feminine enough, not frilly enough. To the kids in school, I was almost, but not quite -- not thin enough, not pretty enough, not girly enough, not popular enough, not funny enough, not talented enough, didn't get the required number of good grades. To the teachers, I was almost, but not quite -- not popular enough, not involved enough, not presentable enough, not rich enough, not athletic enough, not mainstream enough, not cooperative enough, not attentive enough, not part of the herd enough.
Then marriage -- again Almost, but not quite. My first husband wasn't "man" enough for my father, and so I wasn't "woman" enough to get a "real man". I wasn't enough period for the ex, anyway -- he decided to quit being bi and go totally gay. I wasn't hot enough for the average run of dating. And for Mike, I'm not really enough either -- I don't know what he wants/wanted, but I'm not it. We stay together just out of habit, mostly. Maybe that's what happens with all married couples, I don't know.
So even my marriage is an Almost, but not quite. I guess that's what should be on my tombstone:
Lorraine H. Robinson
1957 - whenever
She Was Almost, But Not Quite
Lorri
Feeling superfluous in all ways
Carried them in, and they're both an inch too short. I got depressed and went to bed for the day, while Mike cut support blocks to put in the cabinet so the shelves would work. In passing, and not meaning anything, he said, "They almost fit -- almost, but not quite."
Almost, but not quite. That right there is the story of my life. All my life I've been almost, but not quite. To my father, I was almost, but not quite -- I wasn't a boy. To my mother, I was almost, but not quite -- I wasn't a popular social butterfly. To my grandparents, I was almost, but not quite -- not feminine enough, not frilly enough. To the kids in school, I was almost, but not quite -- not thin enough, not pretty enough, not girly enough, not popular enough, not funny enough, not talented enough, didn't get the required number of good grades. To the teachers, I was almost, but not quite -- not popular enough, not involved enough, not presentable enough, not rich enough, not athletic enough, not mainstream enough, not cooperative enough, not attentive enough, not part of the herd enough.
Then marriage -- again Almost, but not quite. My first husband wasn't "man" enough for my father, and so I wasn't "woman" enough to get a "real man". I wasn't enough period for the ex, anyway -- he decided to quit being bi and go totally gay. I wasn't hot enough for the average run of dating. And for Mike, I'm not really enough either -- I don't know what he wants/wanted, but I'm not it. We stay together just out of habit, mostly. Maybe that's what happens with all married couples, I don't know.
So even my marriage is an Almost, but not quite. I guess that's what should be on my tombstone:
Lorraine H. Robinson
1957 - whenever
She Was Almost, But Not Quite
Lorri
Feeling superfluous in all ways
