What the fuck is hashtag anyway? I consider myself pretty “with it,” but to me, # means pound or number sign. I just asked my 13-year-old daughter, and I heard the word “Twitter,” but she had a hard time explaining it, just like the other people I have asked. I don’t tweet or follow anyone on Twitter, so I just Googled it. Here’s a simple answer: Hashtag is not the # itself. It’s actually the word that comes after the #. It’s a way of tagging topics so that messages with the same hashtag are grouped together. This way when people search topics, they can search by the hashtag. So, how old do I sound right now? Stick this one under #where’dmyperiodgo.

I may not tweet, but I started eating quinoa and doing yoga this summer. That’s so zen and modern for me. The only problem is I haven’t done either of those since. I’m back to popping candy corn into my mouth (actually eating them now as I write this) and drinking wine in lieu of rolling out my mat. I walked into Whole Foods recently, and that health food store smell made me wince. Does anyone actually like that combo scent of vitamins, herbs, yeast and dried root? I am Dave’s daughter after all. Don’t try to put a Newman’s Own Oreo in front of me. I will know immediately that it’s an imposter. And, steamed Chinese food does not satisfy me. I end up pouring that oily brown sauce they give you all over the food anyway. I just don’t understand women who have the will power to eat healthy all of the time. I really want to be like them. Besides being super thin, they must feel great: no food hangovers, few bouts of indigestion and no self battery about why they just reached over and ate the rest of the deep-fried chicken fingers off of their kid’s plate. Thank goodness I have a pretty good metabolism and have learned to eat less of the bad stuff as I age. Willingly choosing carob over real chocolate is an impossibility for me, though. Put that under #mufffintopsarebeautiful.

And, willingly choosing divorce should have been an impossibility for me, too. Sadly, it wasn’t, though. I liken that to choosing a bad political candidate, because he is slightly better than the other inept candidate. When the prospect of being alone for the rest of your life is more appealing than staying married to the person you wake up next to every morning, it’s time to dial 1-800-DIVORCE. Wow, I wish it were as easy as a phone call, but it’s not. As I come into the home stretch of this ugly process, I don’t feel relief. I have a lawyer, two accountants and two financial advisors, yet I still feel scared and very much alone. They are not playing Monopoly, but sometimes it seems like it. This is my life, and I want to pass go, collect $200 and not go straight to jail. When my case is done, they can fold up the game board, place it back in the box then put it into their filing cabinets. Maybe they will reach back in there sometimes and use me as an example to future clients, as they often tell me: “I had a case where Mrs. Smith wanted a savings component along with her alimony…” My own game board will still remain active, however, and I’m more than a little silver top hat or thimble. I think I’m supposed to be a solid gold, diamond-encrusted, enormous something, but sometimes I don’t feel like it. I’ve learned over these past two-and-a-half years of separation that some people think everything is just dandy if you are perceived to have money. Money can cure sadness; money can cure loneliness; money can cure psoriasis. No it can’t, folks. It’s no newsflash that people with money have plenty of problems. Yes, divorced women with little financial worry have it easier than divorced women with great financial worry, but we all still feel those shitty emotions brought on by divorce. Sure, money can buy me things, but according to Paul McCartney, it can’t even buy me love. Let’s place this one in #iwannashitgoldbricks.

I dedicate this blog to my daughter Evin. She tells me I’m annoying every day and pretends to dislike me. I know her hormones and possibly the divorce are behind this. She was once my girl, and some wise people have told me that she will come back to me one day. I long for that day. Until then, I pray for the strength to remember this is a phase and for the strength to not put her through a wall. Amen.