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May 21, 2014, 07:22AM

Breaking Up With My Horoscope

I won’t get all the time back I wasted reading it over the years.

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Today is my birthday. I fall on the cusp of Taurus and Gemini, which means I’m like psycho with a side of psycho, according to astrology. I’ve been a fan of reading my horoscope since I was a kid. The Philadelphia Inquirer came every day, and after a brief glance of the headlines and maybe a comic strip or two, I read exactly two things: Erma Bombeck’s column and my horoscope.

Since the date falls between two signs, I would read both the “Taurus” and “Gemini” horoscopes each day and simply decide which one I liked better. As an adult, one of the few emails I have not unsubscribed to is my horoscope, which pops up in my inbox every day. For some reason lately, though, I’ve felt like the messages are all the same, vague, and basically meaningless. Needless to say, this has always been true of horoscopes, but something about turning 45 has made me realize that the last 35 years or so of reading these predictions has been a colossal waste of time. I could have three graduate degrees in the time it’s taken me to read this malarkey.

Consider a few “predictions” from my horoscope in the last week:

“Someone close to you might need your assistance and you can’t ignore a request for help.”

(Really? I’m a mom of four, THIS IS MY LIFE EVERY DAY.)

“Take a more creative approach to expressing your feelings today.”

(Does this mean I’m not allowed to cuss? Fuck off, astrologers).

“A dynamic square between sensual Venus and mysterious Pluto adds depth to an already complicated situation.”

(I’ll take your word for it. Don’t care.)

Of course, I’m as happy as the next girl when the enthusiastic Sagittarius moon visits my House of Partners, whatever that means, but I don’t have time to sit around reading lame, generic predictions of things that may or may not come true. I won’t even remember them anyway because I couldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast yesterday much less what “intriguing opportunity” I was supposed to experience.

I don’t think all of this stuff is bullshit. I have a psychic, and she’s amazing. She’s been doing readings on me for years (I have one today, for my b-day) and she’s always right.

But my prediction is that as I enter the second half of my life, I won’t be wasting any more time deciding whether I like the Taurus or the Gemini horoscope better, because who gives a shit?

 

-Follow Mary McCarthy on Twitter @marymac.

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