The Only Title I Ever Wanted

I never played pretend Queen… or Princess for that matter.

Never mind your Kings and Queens and whatnot… way too much responsibility there… there’s only one title I want and that’s “Ole’ Lady.”

I was never one of those kids who dreaded getting older. Those kids probably all had decent — or at least bearable — childhoods; I didn’t. All I ever wanted as a kid was not to be one. I wanted to be in charge of my own life, at least to the extent that’s possible for anyone. My answer to the ever-present and seemingly unavoidable question from adults — “And what do you want to be when you grow up?” — was usually a blank stare. All I wanted was to be grown-up and at least somewhat in charge of my own life.

Little did I know, at the time, about the complexities of adulthood. I led what some would call a privileged life… and if all you need to be ‘privileged’ is to have parents with enough money to make their own lives comfortable, then, yeah, I had that. If you don’t mind being made to do all the things that one of your parents think are becoming for a child of wealth, like ballet lessons, and piano lessons, and art lessons… and, OH PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!!! My parents, however, were themselves beyond comfortable. They either had or could get pretty much whatever they wanted. My mom even got famous, like morning TV appearance famous.

All I wanted as a kid was to be grown up… and not just grown up… OLD. I wanted to be beyond having to go to work every day where still more people would be telling me what to do or, worse yet, be a “boss” and have to tell other people what to do especially as I knew damn well that they’d resent me for it.

I wanted none of that.

Being “grown up”, when it finally hit me — I think I was in labor at the time — came with its own challenges of course, and I embraced them because at least, for the most part, no one was telling me what to do. Then, in my forties, my body manifest a “fatal, incurable” disease that pretty much crippled me from head to toe… and y’know what? Pain and all, it was still better than being a kid. I actually kind of embraced the experience of becoming disfigured and disabled; I took it on as if I were living some kind of fairy tale. The pain was all mine… no one was inflicting it on me. I owned it. It was my pain, and no one was telling me how to handle it because there was no way to handle it, so I got to do it my way which involved which involved a kind of self-taught mindfulness.

I figured I’d just be living like that till I died from it… but, against all the odds, I didn’t die… in fact, with the exception of my hands, my skin got soft again and almost all of me straightened out — fingers are still CRAZY though. But, barring accident, I will most likely die a natural death of some sort. And best of all, I’m getting old.

I’ll be 76 soon and getting closer to being able to claim the title I’ve wanted since forever… though I’m not actually sure exactly when or how that will happen. I’m kind hoping that someone will just come out with it one day, and I’ll hear them hollering out “Hey! Here comes Ole Lady Pendragon.”

It’s got a great ring to it, doesn’t it?



Artist; Author of self-help books on healing with Ozark Mt. Publishers; survivor of two 'fatal, incurable' diseases and a healthy dose of CSA

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Victoria Pendragon

Artist; Author of self-help books on healing with Ozark Mt. Publishers; survivor of two 'fatal, incurable' diseases and a healthy dose of CSA