I don’t spend much time thinking about my zodiac sign.
Sure, when the astrology column is right in front of my face, I’ll give it a glance. But other than knowing that I’m a Sagittarius, I really never gave any thought to what it all means. Is your zodiac sign supposed to be in some way determinant? Was I supposed to marry an Aquarius, or was that bad juju?
Although I don’t spend much time thinking about, I was a bit taken aback to learn that NASA has added a new sign into the mix – something called Ophiuchus – to better align things, astronomy-wise.
For most folks, having a new sign shoe-horned in there is likely to have pushed them into a new sign. Thus, my Aquarian husband would now be a Capricorn. (Or is it the other way around?) That’s disconcerting enough, I suppose. But to have your perfectly good sign replaced by a heretofore unknown clunker, well, that takes you well beyond disconcerting.
As it turns out, I’m one of the true victims of the New Zodiac World Order. I’m now an Ophiuchus.
The source of my new knowledge was some of my (male, surprisingly – who knew that men followed the zodiac news?) gym buddies, who brought it up in conversation the other day. When I said that I was December 1, they told me that the new sign for my birthday was “something that began with an O.”
Not that I know how to pronounce, but it sure sounds ugly. Like a . medical condition. Nothing too serious. Fungal toenails. Projectile vomit. Something like that.
And the symbol is pretty creepy.
Sagittarius was odd enough: a centaur with a bow and arrow.
But Ophiuchus? Ophi-yuck-us!
A guy who looks like Father Time (or a less-fun Mister Natural) handling a snake that’s threaded through his legs. (Did the illustrator back in the day really have to go there?)
And I feel about snakes about the same way I feel about rats. And clowns. Creepy. Nasty. Must-avoid.
So little comfort derived from learning that the alternative name for Ophiuchus is Serpentarius.
Snake Bearer vs. my old friend, Sagittarius the Archer.
People born under the sign are thought to be seekers of knowledge and also have a flamboyant style of dress. (Source: Inverse)
Well, I’ve always been a seeker of knowledge (or info, or maybe just interesting stuff). But as I sit here in my jeans, fleece, and LL Bean moccasin slippers, I think I’m failing that flamboyant style of dress thing. I do have a number of fairly interesting sweaters, but I wouldn’t exactly characterize them as flamboyant.
Here’s the real kicker: Ophiuchus doesn’t have an opposite sign, meaning you can no longer justify your dating life with “opposites attract.”
Well, I don’t exactly have a dating life to justify, but, if I do take up geriatric dating, or astrology, at least I won’t have to bother worrying about whether I’ve got an opposite number out there, under my new found stars.