The sublime liberation of caring about being funny most of all.
I don’t know if you’re the type of person who can’t wait to get out of your clothes as soon as you get in the door from work, but I am.
I love to peel off too-tight trousers and wriggle free of restrictive blouses and, best of all, escape the double clutch of a bra. Feeling free and looking insane, I wander half-dressed through my apartment on my phone, hunting for snacks. This is the least self-conscious moment of the day, a private ritual that would look funny to anyone watching. Usually, nobody is. Once, though, somebody was. An entire film crew, actually.
And several people were taping, so now I suppose anyone who watches the film will see me struggle out of a woolen skirt, letting it fall to the ground in an unsexy heap. Then they will watch me, in tan-colored control-top pantyhose and a chunky knit turtleneck, lean into the refrigerator looking for one of those yogurts with the candy corners before sitting heavily on an exercise ball and devouring the yogurt as I flick through a gossip magazine.
The film premiered last week, and I got to see it for the first time. Lots of firsts for me that day: first time being in a movie, first lead role, first time seeing my butt up there on the big screen at the same time 300 strangers did.
That last part was my favorite, which is surprising to me. I’ve never really liked how I look. Please don’t correct me or get mad at me when I tell you that. I appreciate that I’m able-bodied and I get to move around the world with that privilege. I am in awe of the body-positivity movement, but despite huge efforts toward it, when I look in the mirror I’m either ambivalent or full-on Harvey Pekar muttering, “Well, there’s a reliable disappointment.”
I understand there are a hundred reasons for this — societal, systemic, psychological and so on. But I no longer devote energy to figuring them out. I have finite time and resources, so I get on with more important things like understanding the Green New Deal or really getting to know my Instant Pot or, best of all, doing anything and everything I can think of to be funny.
