Posted in A Day in the Life, Beauty, Explaining the Strange Behavior, Family, Friends of Mine

It Girl


I can’t sleep.  Part of it is the snoring that was coming from beside me, and part of it was the coughing coming from the other room, and part of it was good old fashioned insomnia.  I tried to entertain myself with fantasies of being on the X Factor.  I can usually tell myself stories to sleep–generally, I would zonk out halfway through my audition fantasy, but tonight I made it all the way up to my Top 3 song choice before giving up and getting out of bed.  By the way, my Top 3 consisted of a really hot girl who sang like Whitney Houston, and a cutie patootie boy band.  I was eliminated in that round, but not before Simon Cowell said I was his favorite contestant ever, and had a hissy fit that I’d been voted out.

So, I looked down tonight, after I’d gotten into my pajamas, and I thought, “Good lord!  My boobs used to be a lot higher!  When did they fall down there?!”  You would think that having read and/or listened to so many women talk about the changes time and gravity bring, I would have internalized some expectation of it.  Not so.  Time and Gravity continue to be startling shocks to my system.  I know where things were.  I know where I think things should still be.  Joke’s on me.  They ain’t there no more.

Lately, I am coming to realize I need reading glasses, too.  My optometrist has been telling me this was coming.  The past few eye exams, the doctor has said something like, “After 40, vision changes rapidly, and you may find yourself needing reading glasses.”  I guess I thought I was special, or impervious, but the other day a client loaned me her readers “just to see” and it was like–  Well, it was like I need reading glasses.  I’ll have to find a chic pair so that my transformation into Little Old Lady isn’t quite so sudden.

I’m not complaining about aging.  I am enjoying my age.  I wouldn’t turn back time at all.  I like where I am, who I am, and who I have around me.  The little niggling changes are all worth the exchange.  I don’t like the wrinkles, but I really don’t mind the wrinkles either.  Some of the people I love most in the world have a whole lot of them, and it doesn’t change how I feel for them one bit.  The people who love me feel the same way.

Isn’t that lucky?  I think it is.  I feel very fortunate to be surrounded by, and loved by people who see past my flaws.

I feel about bodies, the way I feel about houses.  Curb appeal only really matters if a) you intend to sit outside in your front yard a lot, or b) you’re trying to make a sale.  Of course you want your exterior to be in good shape, and as attractive as is feasible to maintain because the health of the exterior is what protects the health of your interior, but it’s what you find past the front door that makes a house a home.  How comfortable are you inside?  How good does it feel to just kick back and relax?  How happy are you when it’s just you and the clock ticking?

I’m pretty happy.  Happy enough to get myself through to the Top 3 on X Factor!

It's been a few  years since I've hit the stage, but I still plan performances.
It’s been a few years since I’ve hit the stage, but I still plan performances.

 

 

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.