I love Amy Schumer but...

I LOVE AMY SCHUMER BUT…

By: Cindy Caponera

12/10/2015

I love Amy Schumer. She’s a smart, hilarious, fearless truth-teller. And she’s 34. I used to be a lot like Amy. Obviously not as famous but certainly as hot of a mess and as fearless in my approach to comedy. But since I’ve gotten older I’ve become afraid and stopped saying my truth. As if by aging I’m doing something wrong and I have to find a way to not do it -- but you can’t not do it. It’s here – forever. Fear can kiss my ballsac.

Not only am I no longer a hot mess, I don’t even identify with them anymore. Whether they really are that way or just adopting the label to be popular. Part of it’s because of my sheer time on the planet and the other part is because I’ve worked my ass off for many years, creatively, spiritually and psychologically to become this best version of me.

I’m so far away from that self – the self that slept with all the guys and fell asleep with sandwiches in my mouth, stole petty cash from employers, made-out with your boyfriend while you were passed out in the shower, used your car for a week then didn’t pick you up at the airport -- that I barely recognize myself. Here’s how not a hot mess I am:

I have been living in my second home – not my starter home -- for over 10 years. I have been married longer than half the population has had their second teeth. I have the metabolism of a napping sloth and count standing as exercise. I like watching old people read the menu to each other in restaurants. “This jalapeno burger sounds good but I bet it’s spicy.” Or how they pick their table by determining the spot with the least amount of glare. Or how they look like babies when they yawn.

I can’t watch TV shows where people are really mean to each other or get pierced in the sternum with an ice pick. A visual that would make my mother cry out, “I felt that all the way down to my vagina.” And I can’t blame her. However, I can and do blame Eve Ensler for all of the godforsaken vagina talk of the recent decade. But I digress –

What is so attractive about being a fucked up person with no life skills? When you can be a grown-ass lady with experience and know-how? That’s right – I said, ‘know-how’. Why be helpless when you can be powerful?

I answer my phone when it rings. I show up when asked. I behave accordingly. I have car/house/dog/life/term insurance. I send thank-you cards, birthday cards and wedding gifts in a timely manner. Often times my bag matches my shoes. I try to live life with compassion and use words like persevere and stick to itiveness.

And yes, there are things I have to accept – like nobody’s checking out my ass anymore. Except you mother f*%kers that are still checking it! What? You heard me.

My 90’s dating experiences aren’t relevant. My comedy isn’t the hippest in the room – hippest being the operative word. But just because I’m not 34 doesn’t mean I’m not still great at what I do.

Somewhere between writing about having lots of meaningless sex and a Christmas Movie for the Hallmark Channel with actors you’ve never seen before – there is a place for people like me. So, I am no longer afraid to not be 34 in Hollywood. I’m not even afraid to not be 44… and let’s just leave it at that.