“On becoming a Tantie”
All my life I was warned bout women like her—sad, lonely, grumpy, hardened women like her—that she was mean and unfortunate and only served to be mocked. To call a woman a Tantie has been the greatest insult to her youth and her attraction. But her(e) I am, standing too close to the flame, finding myself intrigued and enamored by this old lady with fat mama arms, home clothes and a half grey knot on the top of her head.
She is not yet forty but might as well be in her seventies since she spends most of her time alone and at home. She has panties so big they look like shorts. She wears them with a t shirt when she walks around her backyard talking to the weeds before plucking them and pelting them into an unoccupied plant pot. She wakes up early to stand outside in the evaporating dew to drink tea and read books. Books made of paper. She bends over the soil and pets the leaves and loves the smell of chlorophyll. She takes vitamins for hair, skin, and nails. Supplements for gut and vaginal health. Antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds and sometimes, weed gummies. She goes inside to make breakfast she could buy at a cafe, because this is New York City for crying out loud, and Tik Tok-ers post thousands of videos daily about the hottest spots for cronuts or classic pastries to have with Japanese tea and Turkish coffee. She doesn't have Tik Tok. Her kitchen has baguettes and pear butter and prosciutto. She orders Matcha powder made small batch out of state. She has 3 types of bread in the freezer. She has 2 types of butter in the fridge. Her pots cost most than her shoes. She has hand painted dishes and wares for each inside and outdoors. She eats a lavish meal in her bed while reading the news from website subscriptions. She posts food pics with no filter and too-long captions to Instagram and gets 27 likes. She sends pictures of the progress of her tomato plants to her friend, who sends her pictures of the raspberry bushes he planted for another friend. She puts the dishes in a dishwasher with environmentally conscious soap capsules. She bathes herself with a charcoal infused loofah while listening to Queen. She has a separate microfiber towel for her hair.
She leaves 10 mins voicenotes to her tantie friends abroad, and listens to their 10 min voice notes while she makes the bed and puts out the recycling. She works from home most days. She has therapist appointments every week and doctors appointments every month for pain in her body. She does yoga at home from videos online. The instructor is her real-life friend. She avoids the gym and gym clothes. She stretches braless in nothing but her big practical panties. Her lunch is as glamorous and homemade as her breakfast. She might make herself cum before a midday nap. She decides if she's keeping any nighttime plans by evening time. If she decides to go, she takes her slow ass time getting ready. Her perfume is fancy, full-size and is kept on her dresser next to Malin + Goetz candles. Her makeup is tinted skincare. She uses hylauronic acid, niacinamide and retinol. She rubs lotion from her neck to her toes. She takes a car if she's wearing heels. She dates more platonic men and women than lovers. Their conversations are complaints about politics. They don't complain though, about plays they've seen or want to see, shows they're streaming and plans to meet at the farmer's market. They forget to gossip. They do remember to lament somewhat about single life but how hard it would be to live with someone because the single life is too good.
She's home before 2. Most times, way before 2. She won't wear shoes in the house. She showers before bed. She removes her makeup before thinking of touching a pillow. She applies a night time lip mask. She pours herself a non-alcoholic night cap because liquor now gives her migraines. She watches a movie naked and alone under her linen duvet and on top of her hotel grade pillows. She sleeps uninterrupted until morning. Then she wakes up and puts on a big panty before meeting the dew's Irish goodbye."