The week had been a perfect storm for both Noelle and me. As we’re prone to do when at our collective wits’ end, we gathered at the dinner table with Q; filled our plates with yummy comfort food; put on The Beatles, Deee-Lite, and Dire Straits for singing; and laughed as only three hamalama hambones can.
Noey and I acknowledged feeling better after dinner, but there was a lingering meh in the air. We both were energetically spent. Our whys are content for future blog posts (and television shows, and…) but one thing’s most critical to mention: dating in one’s ‘40s leaves plenty to be desired. PLENTY.
Noey: “I mean, for God’s sake, I’m my own best lover!”
Me: “We should put that on a tee shirt.”
Noey: “We should.”
Me: “Okay. I’ll text Ana.” (Ana’s my dear friend who’s an awesome artist, designer, and overall badass.)
During the shitshow of 2020, Noey and I brainstormed the beginnings of Marge Virginia, a creative entity named after our beloved grandmothers who were the domestic engineers neither of us are but the women we emulate. When my mother was alive, she and I joked about creating a card company named Marge as an homage to her mother, who was infamous for sending hundreds of Christmas cards annually, including to The Pope and POTUS.
Noey, Ana, and I played around with greeting cards and other products, but nothing stuck…until we wanted a cute shirt. Until it dawned on us how many people we know with our same frustration. Until we realized that being one’s own best lover means being one’s own best friend…provider…warrior. Until we were clear that being one’s own best lover calls forth the respect and support we all deserve.
So now there’s a tee shirt, and we’d love to see you in it. Click here to purchase.
More to come. #eatingatme #iammyownbestlover #margevirginia