It’s not true that all women become invisible at 46. Some of us are never visible. Even as children, the world is blind to us. This is not a bad thing. It’s a superpower. When being noticed means jeers and insults and sticks and stones, passing through the world unseen becomes a skill. Not that it’s difficult to master. Simply fold yourself in half. And half again. And half again. And keep going until even the Jehovah’s stop knocking, and the postman would rather leave parcels in the rain than risk catching a glimpse of you.
Yes, that’s right. I am the woman you dread becoming. So afraid are you of my fate you cross the road for fear of contagion. You lock yourself in an office, toiling beneath sickly striplights. You save up for a house that cripples you and lie next to a man who silences you. All so you can have a baby who eats you alive - and who will eventually spit you out.
And you will find yourself alone some day. In a too-big house, with only echoes to keep you company. And you will think to yourself: maybe I’ll get a cat. And you will. And as it rubs itself blissfully against your legs and sees you in a way no human being ever has, you’ll find yourself purring with the purest pleasure. You’ll spoon out glistening mounds of meat and you’ll get down on all fours and thrill as your houseguest feasts on every morsel. And news will spread that all are welcome. You will throw open the door and they will gather, filling every room with purpose, albeit every surface with fur. The walls will vibrate with love.
There’ll be no time to brush your hair, of course. No, your coat will be as matted as the three-legged tabby who arrives unannounced amidst a January storm. And who has time to consider clothes when there are bowls of water to replenish and cold wet noses to be nuzzled? An oversized blouse will suffice, thrown on over tracksuit bottoms that have long since lost their Lycra. But what you lose in pride over your appearance you’ll make up for in the pride of cats prowling through your heart, demanding to be loved.
You are wanted.
You are needed.
You exist.
Is that such a terrible fate, sister? Is that really what you fear? Look me in the eyes. You will see an endless river of love in which no stray will ever drown. While you, my friend, struggle within the confines of a sack of your own making… rocks weighing you down. And all the while the cord tightens.
But what do I know? I’m just The Crazy Cat Lady.
