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 baseball, Health, music, swimming

You Betta Work!

I’ve picked two actual workouts to rotate into my lap swimming.  Thus far, I have swum to the clock without much attention to how many laps I am getting in during a workout.  Going forward, I’ll be swimming to a set routine.  I think that will help a) with the ennui of back and forth, b) boost the physical benefits, and c) keep my mind off my fears because I’ll be too busy thinking, “Wait…was that four or five?  Dang it!  Better call it four just to be sure.”

I am listening to the World Series, avoiding watching the nail biter.  I watched until Lewis walked two to load the bases.  Then, I couldn’t watch any longer.  It isn’t like it’s MY team.  My team is the Braves.  My American League team is the Yankees.  But, if I can’t have a series with the Braves and the Yankees (and wasn’t I having a ball that year?! two hats!  I rooted for whichever team was at bat.) then I’ll root, root, root for the home team–my home team, the Rangers.  If they don’t win, it really will be a shame.

Although, if they do win, I won’t be able to taunt my brother-in-law and husband any longer with, “Remind me…  How many World Series have the Rangers won?”

I’m an odd sports fan.  I really do love watching sports, but I have these huge gaps in knowledge of rules of play.  I still don’t know the difference between all the numbers they call on the football field–you know, the ones that determine for how many more plays the offense has the ball?  No clue.  But I get excited just the same.  I confuse baseball rules with softball rules half the time.  I know zilch about hockey, and basketball foul rules confuse the hoop out of me.  But I love watching sports.  I know when to yell.

Like right then!  Beltre homerun!!!  We’re in the lead at the top of the 7th!  Two more innings to play, though.  No getting cocky.

In other news, I am seriously considering (and by seriously I mean starting to plan) giving a stab at auditions for the next X Factor. (HOMERUN CRUZ! WOO!)  I’ve always said that the only thing keeping me from auditioning for American Idol was the age limit.  I think I could have a very decent shot at being an Over 30.  I mean, I’m no homeless, James Brown impersonator, but I’m pretty good with a mic.  I’ve thought how much fun it would be to live blog the process, but wondered if cell phones are allowed?

Do I want to be a known commodity, though?  No.  Do I want validation from Simon Cowell?  Yes.  Ha!  I want to vanity audition.  So the question is, if I don’t really want to sing for a living, do I fool with it and potentially rob someone of the chance, who is truly passionate about performance as a lifestyle?  That is assuming that I am good enough to make it through the producers, onto the actual audition.

I know what I would wear…