She was singing and she looked as tiny and cute and perky and trendy and talented as ever. I sat on the couch in my ragged jeans, sniveling thanks to this cold, drinking coldish coffee with no creamer because I need to drop a couple of pounds (and may I say life is too short not to drink creamer), thinking of letting Preschooler D play with my new fancy phone just to keep him busy.
Here's the thing: I didn't really care. Good for her for still being tiny and cute and perky and trendy. Good for her for sounding good while she sang.
I may or may not be any of those things, but I am peaceful. I am happy. It turned out in the end that College Boyfriend and I weren't a very good match . . . at all. I can be done being jealous and angry.
Good for me.