The Post-Menopausal Me

I may as well cut off my junk and bone up on growing begonias now, because my last professional link to anyone under 50 has been severed. Add to this the fact that at least 98% of the people I work with are of the fairer sex, I should just embrace my inner Ya-Ya sister and get it over with.

Sacha is my best friend at work...or should I say was. The only other person in her 20s that I work with has found a new job and has moved on. I threatened to kill her, shun her, even *gasps* cut her out of the America's Next Top Model pool, but to no avail. To say I'll miss her is an understatement as she is one of the only things that make my shifts tolerable. Not to mention that until we get someone new we are double short-staffed, which means buckets of work are going to be coming my way.

I am actually in her corner though, even though I'm certainly being a jerk about it. Where she is unhappy being the overeducated drone working in the mines and is taking the steps to escape, I have put up the proverbial family photos, dug in my lazy heals and accepted full-time worker bee status. Though someone in my general age bracket may be hired to take her place I am prepping to greet who I'm sure we'll be a lovely mother of 3.

Where once my good work conversations were about dating and sex and social issues and life at large, I will have to get used to the "How was your weekend" norm.

*sigh*

I'll miss you Sacha.

Your "haunted" friend,
Jamie