Posted in 2the9s, Style

Lordy, Lordy, Look Who’s Only 39 for a few More Hours

Tomorrow is my birthday. I am turning 40. I’ve never been the type to shy away from my age, or from aging. My life has only gotten better as I have gotten older. I wouldn’t trade the arse I had at 17 for any of the knowledge I have now, even though that was one glorious arse. A casting director liked it well enough to put it in a pair of Lee jeans for advertisement. (Your friends never believe you when you point out a random, faceless backside and yelp, “That’s my butt!”)

My teens were the usual random horrors. My twenties were spent confused, hurt, and misguided. My thirties were fantastic. I spent seven years out of my thirties married to B, and two more dating him. I’ve had Thor for the last half of the previous decade, and nothing will spice up your life like a Thor. In the last couple of years, I have regained the self-confidence I lost somewhere around 21.

I am still surprised to realize that I’m not 17. I am surprised when my body won’t give me the output it did just ten years ago. I am surprised when it hits home that I am the adult with a child, not the child hanging out with adults. It’s funny to think that when my mother was 40, I was 12. I’m 40 and Thor is 5. I got a late start!

Oh, I am always taken aback when I look down and see these grown-up hands. But none of that is bad. It is all very, very good.

I feel like I am young enough to still do the things I want to do, but mature enough to properly estimate the level of importance to place on each desire. I am good at prioritizing, and good at keeping balanced. My memory is going south, and that’s a fact, so I need to start doing brain teasers or something to stimulate it. I’m looking forward to the next ten years.

And as a Hobbit style birthday present from me to Kim, here’s what I’m wearing today.
The shoes are actually a different style by Maripe, but are very similar to the Maripes pictured. Mine have a pointy toe and the buckle strap runs vertical to the ankle. Obviously, my earrings and ring are not nearly so expensive as those pictured, but one style is quite like the other.

Posted in Uncategorized

Nip Slip

When I was expecting Thor, it seemed like his announcing bump happened overnight.  One day I just looked like I’d been eating double burgers for every meal, and then suddenly BOOSH I had massive, obviously pregnant belly.  It was surprising, and amusing, and a relief that people could tell there was actually a biological reason outside of caloric intake to explain my rapidly spreading hips.

I turn 40 in December.  Now, I’m not particularly worried or even interested in that, but as suddenly as my body changed during the last few months of pregnancy, it is suddenly changing again.  I’m not kidding.  In the last two months, I have noticed drastic changes.  Unpleasant ones, up to and including spider veins in the back of my legs!

Aging doesn’t upset me.  I’m not worried about losing my looks.  I feel like I’ve got plenty of personality to fall back on once everything else goes, and if not, eh, there’s an audience for everything.  Still, I was rearranging my bra last night and the contents of it settled into a shape I had never seen before.  For the first time in my life, I seriously (and I mean seriously, not just a fleeting moment of vanity) thought, “Holy crap.  I need to get those rebuilt.”

I won’t.  That way lies madness for me.  If I got those done, I’d have to get a tummy tuck.  Then I would be obsessed about my chicken wings.  Then I would need a butt lift.  I would end up looking like the leftovers from an episode of The Swan.  Veneers.  Eyelidectomy.  Nose job.  Hair extensions.  Lash extensions.  Botox.  Lip plumping.   Pretty soon, Thor wouldn’t even recognize me.

Hundreds of years from now, when they are digging up graves, do you think archeologists will wonder why women were buried with bags of silicone?

No, I don’t mind my wrinkles, or the fact that I am suddenly also aware of gray hair.  I don’t mind that my apples have turned to pears, because one day they are going to be hard boiled eggs in knee highs.  I’m still me, no matter how saggy this thing gets.  Just don’t make me mad.  I’ll flap my arms and slap your jaws with my wings.