AUNT MARTHA, CHILDBIRTH, MENOPAUSE AND NOW THIS….

I went to the doctor with My Harley Stud today for his physical. She suggested that he try to lose 5 lbs. FIVE POUNDS! I hate him. She told me to lose thirty.

And to add insult to injury: Today at lunch, I swear the escalator at Dillards groaned when I stepped on.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

IT’S NOT EASY BEING GREEN

Everyone is trying to be GREENER these days. I'm no exception. I really want to be green. A nice Forest green would be desirable or at least a perfect, Kelly green. Instead I think I wind up being more of a weak, pastel, mint green. It's not for lack of trying, believe me.

We recycle. Palm Beach County provides us with recycling bins. One is for paper and another for cans and plastic. We've done our best to recycle every acceptable item since we moved to this county. I turn off the water when I brush my teeth. We have energy and water efficient appliances. I've become completely neurotic about turning off the lights and ceiling fans when I leave the room.

My newest effort to become a darker shade of green is to use shopping bags instead of paper or plastic. Here's the problem. I forget to bring them into the store with me. So I buy another one. Then I forget the next time and I buy another one. My trunk is filled with shopping bags. I'm pretty sure this defeats the purpose. At least I'm boosting the economy, right?

Publix, the local supermarket has even put up a banner outside the store to remind shoppers to bring in their bags. I never see it. I'm probably twittering and trying not to walk into cars. Publix also gave out a little disk to put in your cup holder as a reminder too. Yeah, that one didn't work for me either.

I can hardly be blamed though. I mean…… really. I'm a peri-menopausal woman losing estrogen at the speed of light. I can't be expected to remember everything!

I wish I could say that shopping bags were all I'm forgetting these days. *sigh*

I will go to the mall specifically to return an item. I will walk into the mall and into the store and only realize I left the item in the car once I reach the counter.

My good friend, Miss Lolly's birthday is Christmas Eve. It has become somewhat of a tradition for Daughter #1, Daughter #2 and I to dress up in our best Christmas t-shirts and Santa hats and drive over to her house early on the 24^th to sing her our special birthday song. This past year, we arrived just as they were getting all gussied up to go out to lunch to celebrate. The whole family looked great and we used the opportunity to take a family photo of them in front of their Christmas tree.

**Bear with me people, I do have a point here***

A little over a week later, we received a photo card of the Miss Lolly family wishing us a very happy New Year. MHS commented that he wondered who had taken the picture. I said, "Oh you know Wolfgang, he probably photo-shopped himself in. He does that all the time." At that point, D2 who had overheard our conversation walked over to see the picture. She looked at me like I had two heads and said, "YOU took that picture!" And she was right. *sigh*

As you can plainly see, I am a woman who is suffering from severe midlife distraction. The ability to focus on one idea has become all but impossible. Multi-tasking has become a joke. I can barely single task. But this much is true: I really want to be green.

So if you see me wandering around the parking lot at Publix, dodging cars, all while texting and twittering, please remind me to go back to the car and get the bags out of my trunk.

DO I LOOK THINNER YET?

I'm back on the wagon. A few weeks ago I announced that I had canceled my gym membership and discussed the possibilities of continuing my fitness program. I explored all the possibilities of working out at home and arrived once again at this conclusion: If I plan to exercise at home, I will put it off until next year tomorrow. Until Thanksgiving, I had been exercising regularly 3-5 times a week for the past three years. And getting nowhere. The holidays gave me an excuse but the truth is I was frustrated and bored.

Last Friday, I walked into a gym near my office and signed up for a new membership and an appointment for a personal training session today at 5pm. The membership came with a free session aka a personal training sales pitch. I would love to have a personal trainer but that simply is not in my budget. I'm sure it would be great to have a trainer and might even be the key to a successful fitness routine but alas, my wallet said a big fat NO!

My trainer for a day's name was Butch. The session began with an interview. I was required to give an obscene amount of very personal information such as my height, weight, age. Then we discussed my goals. My total body fat was measured by a device that looked very much like a playstation controller. I was appalled with the results. But you can't really trust a game controller for accurate information, right?

Butch continued the interrogation interview by asking about my goals, my level of commitment and how I planned to achieve those goals. I answered every painful question honestly because I'm so pure of heart *wink* and I'm a really bad liar. And of course, since he isn't blind, there was no real point in telling him that I'm 5'10" and weigh 120lbs.

We talked about increasing my metabolism, increasing my fitness level, reducing my body fat and shedding the excess poundage.

Then Butch started a sentence by saying, "Since you're approaching 50 years old…………." And I heard nothing after that. Seriously? I only just turned *cough* forty-eight *cough* I just sat there staring daggers at the boy. In situations like this my life becomes a cartoon fantasy like Calista Flockhart's character in the old show, Ally McBeal. I was suddenly transformed into Clint Eastwood. I gave Butch a look that said, "Go ahead Punk, make my day."

He noted my stare and the red bead on his forehead and continued, "Well, I'm sorry but you are." And I shot him.

Returning to the real world, I quickly explained to him that we can't be friends if he is going to say things like that. He smiled and realized he was dealing with a neurotic bitch sensitive woman who is struggling with her advancing age and the extra pounds it wants to bring along.

Before he said something else that would cause me to ram his foot down his throat might offend me, we moved on to the work-out portion of the session. Butch put me through several abdominal exercises, all new to me. Hopefully, I will be able to stand straight tomorrow. We proceeded to legs and glute work. I was familiar with some of the exercises but he was able to show me a few new tricks too.

If Butch knows what he is talking about, and that still remains to be seen, I'm going to be a very happy woman. It seems that I've been working too hard. I have to admit this was a hard pill to swallow. He suggests that I work out no more than four times a week with strength training. I should supplement my workout with cardio training but no longer than 30 minutes and at medium intensity which is where I will burn the most fat. My old routine included an hour of high intensity cardio supplemented with as little weight work as possible and as many classes as I could fit into my schedule. He also claims I haven't been eating enough. (He wasn't around for the cupcake fest this weekend.) But I think he meant that I should eat more often. Words of wisdom about eating before and after exercising were stressed and more blah, blah, blah, and blah.

I've lost 10 lbs in the last 3 years. It's been a yoyo experience at best. I'm going to try Butch's way. If he's right, he'll be my new best friend and my hero. If he's wrong……………………..I'll shoot him again.

AND NOW WE KNOW IT'S TRUE

Mother always said it would happen.

I didn't listen.

I was young.

I was carefree.

She would repeat it often.

Oh, how I wish I would have heeded her advice!

Because now it's too late.

It's already happened!

Mother always said if you keep making that face, it's going to freeze that way.

Today I woke up with a wrinkle in the middle of my forehead that can only come from spending way too much of my life with that "What the …….?" look on my face!

Now what do I do?

Do they have botox for this?

Hurry, people, I need help!

ROADTRIP: PART IV - THE ERASER

Aging is a funny thing. I have gradually come to appreciate the lined face that greets me in the mirror every morning. But while I can see the changes in my own appearance, if I haven't seen you in awhile, I expect you to stay the same. Logically, I know this is not possible but logic plays only a bit part in the production in my mind.

Recently on a visit to my hometown, I had the opportunity to spend time with my best friend since middle school, who I will call Beauty. (She was voted prettiest girl in our class, senior year) James Dean was from our home town and there was an annual festival being held in his honor. The event, called Museum Days, brings thousands of tourists into our tiny town but it also brings the people who are from this little town together. My Harley Stud has gone back for the event for years but this year was the first time since I've moved from there that I was able to attend. I've always been a little jealous when MHS comes back with his stories of how many of our old friends he saw while walking around town. So I was excited to walk through town with Beauty and had great expectations that we would run into old friends.

As we walked thru the booths of venders and organizations, Beauty would point out different acquaintances to me as they walked past us. I recognized almost no one. I quickly realized that I was looking for an eighteen year old face on a forty-eight year old body. Oh, sure there were a few that I recognized but so many more that I didn't. I didn't want to stop to talk to these people because I figured if I didn't recognize them because they looked so much older, I sure as heck didn't want to hear what they thought of me.

After walking through town, we decided to head for the park where a huge car show is held every year. The car show hosts many food vendors offering fair type food and local delicacies such as a breaded pork tenderloins. (This is a piece of pork that has been pounded until it almost paper thin and then breaded, deep fried and served on a bun. No trip back home would be complete without one.) So, Beauty and I were walking toward the park. There were many people walking to and from the different events being held around town. Beauty and I were giggling like school girls, cutting up, making fun and just having ourselves a real good time.

I would like to point out that no alcohol was consumed on this day.

Suddenly, Beauty trips on something and falls to the ground. It was like it was in slow motion. My reaction time was not quick enough and down she went. I was very concerned. I quickly helped her to her feet and made sure she wasn't hurt. She commented that she was surprised I didn't laugh at her because let's face it; it is funny to watch someone fall. I explained to her that now that she's a grandmother, I had more respect for her and would never laugh at a grandma falling to the ground. She took one look at me and we both cracked up.

We continued on our way and were still having our giggle fest which had only gotten louder and more obnoxious as we went along. Then we saw an old friend sitting in the yard in front of his childhood home with his family. J was a very cute boy when we were growing up and I have to say he has turned into a very handsome man. Beauty has always had a bit of a crush on J and I knew immediately we would be spending some time there. Don't get me wrong, J is married and has a family who were all in attendance. It's a very harmless crush.

Beauty and I began to tell J how I couldn't recognize anyone we grew up with. We're laughing our heads off while trying to tell him about Beauty's fall from lack of grace. (Just kidding, Beauty) Eventually I realize that J's mother is not all that amused at our story telling. I'm a bit confused about this because 1. I know we are funny. *wink* And 2. J's mother was a friend of my mother's and I had been welcomed with a very warm embrace earlier in the day when I ran into her during the parade. Later, Beauty pointed out to me that she probably thought we were drunk. No, loud and crazy behavior just comes naturally to us. No alcohol required. We can be stupid all by ourselves. But we probably did appear that way.

After we had entertained the troops just about as much as they could take, we turned to leave and J's older brother came walking up the sidewalk with his children. J asked him if he knew who Beauty and I were. Now Beauty still lives in town and in fact lives in the house where I was raised. She bought the house from my parents. J's brother who I will call Bubba recognized Beauty right away but looked completely confused when he looked at me. "No, I don't believe I do.", he confessed. I revealed that I am Smart Mouth Broad. He said, "Oh, of course. I see it now. Actually you haven't changed a bit. I think I must have just completely erased you from my memory." What the…? I smiled and said, "Why, Bubba, I do believe that's the most charming thing anyone has ever said to me."

Just then we were joined by another fellow who claimed to be in our graduating class and recognized both Beauty and me but we still have no idea who he was even after he told us. He did mention that he planned to come and see Beauty about a business matter so we are hoping she will be able to determine his identity at that time.

But even now, I'm still bothered by Bubba's remark. I mean what kind of comment was that! I don't think I ever said two words to the guy in my whole, entire life. (before that night) He was just J's older brother.

Completely.ERASED.me.from.his.memory. Well,……….I never!

Tell me, what's the most "charming" thing anyone has ever said to you?

I’VE LOST MY MOJO

I WOULD LIKE TO WISH A VERY HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO MY CANADIAN FRIENDS!

I may not have mentioned this before. I'm a foodie. YourDictionary.com defines the word as a noun: slang-a person having an enthusiastic interest in the preparation and consumption of fine foods. Yep, that's me. I am a Food Network addict. I'm on a first name basis with Paula, Giada, Rachael, Tyler and Bobby. (In my own mind) But even before my discovery of the Food Network, I was a foodie. Even before I knew there was a term to describe me, I was a foodie.

I love to dine out. I will find something I think is interesting and new to me on the menu and order it. I love to try new tastes and textures. If I like a dish, I will pick it apart, dissect the flavors with my tongue and go home and try to recreate it or at least my version of it. My friends and family tell me that I'm pretty good at it too. I thought about posting recipes on this blog but the problem is that most of the time, I wing it. I could tell you ingredients. I can't tell you measures. It's a feely thing. You know, whatever I feel like. And usually no two attempts are the same. I like it that way. It keeps it interesting. Though it can be a little frustrating when I really like something and want to recreate it again exactly as it was first prepared but alas, I can't remember how much of anything I included. *sigh* I could blame this on my midlife lack of concentration but the truth is I've always been what my mother described as "a little scatter-brained". I like to think of it as charmingly distracted. I always have a lot on my mind, you know.

Thinking, thinking, I am always thinking about everything. Like right now, as I write this, Mayzie, my good ole' dog, is licking the arm of my living room chair. So excuse me while I go beat her with a spoon, reprimand her in an appropriate fashion.

She got down when she saw me coming but here she is behaving herself on the floor. You can't really get mad at a face like that.

OK, now see what I mean, I got a lot goin' on. Now where was I?......

It's not just restaurant offerings that I like to recreate. I also like to come up with my own delicacies which I affectionately refer to as "Smart Mouth Surprise". These are words that can send spasms of anxiety enthusiastic anticipation into the hearts of my family. Hey, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I think they've relaxed a bit since I received my PhD in culinary arts from the virtual school of the Food Network. Who says television can't be educational? I think my niece, Smart Mouth in Training, said it best: "I'm so glad we came to your house for dinner today, Aunt Smart Mouth, because I've really been craving something weird to eat." To which I replied: "I'm so impressed with your culinary sense of adventure." At this, her brother, GameBoy, lifted his head from his handheld game device of the day and stared at us both with a look of complete confusion. (Proof that he does listen while playing) And Smart Mouth in Training explained: "She likes that I try stuff."

So now I've gotten completely away from the problem at hand. My problem in a nutshell is my avid interest in creating yummy dishes for my family has created an ever-increasing waistline that is NOT desired. As mentioned in my earliest posts, even my doctor, thinks my expanding waistline is was a problem. So I put the wheels in motion. I super-charged my exercise routine. I started decreasing my portions and cut back on excess starches, sugar and fat in my diet. It's been about ten weeks since I've put this plan into action. I've lost 14 lbs, went on vacation, gained a few, came home, lost a few and now I'm kinda stuck. I'm at that unavoidable plateau that all "losers" reach at some point on their weight-loss journey. And my journey is far from complete, folks.

I'm bored. I was able to tough it out over the last ten weeks but lately I'm cheating more. I need new inspiration. I've lost my mojo. The foodie in me wants to create something fabulous. It's hard to produce a "fabulous" dish when you can't use cream, butter, bread, potatoes or pasta. Isn't it? I've found oodles of help at one of my favorite sites, Kalyn's Kitchen, but I'm looking for new inspiration. If I have to slap one more slab of grilled protein on top of a bed of salad, I think I'll scream. Not that I don't like that type of dish. Dang it, I just want my carbs back!

Help me, friends. I'm reaching out into the blogosphere. Take me under your wing. Teach me your secrets. There has got to be a way to have the figure of a goddess and still eat like a king. OK, that's probably not true. It's either one or the other, I know, I know. But while I'm trying to figure out whether I want to be a goddess or a king, please send me your secrets, advice or just let me know that I'm not alone and you feel my pain.

I'm gonna go eat a carrot.

ONE HOT CHICK

OK, gentlemen, just for today….I'm speaking to the girls only, my lady friends. This is a topic of which you have no interest unless of course you have a woman in your life that is at midlife and at times might tend to be a bit irritable and bites your head off you want to soothe the savage beast her soul. In that case, listen up. You might learn something here. Or not…..sigh. But, Daddy, you should still go away, for a day. And Uncle M (who I'm told reads this blog), you too, and any other male friends or brothers of my father because that would just be weird and uh…well…awkward. Come back tomorrow and I'll be back with the regular nonsense you've come to know and love.

Let's just give them a minute to leave…………..OK, ready?

I am one HOT chick. And I do mean HOT! In fact, there are times (like last night) that I fear I may spontaneously combust. Yes, ladies, I am speaking of hot flashes. They are a new surprise in my midlife. Of course I would have had to be living under a rock to have never heard of them. The problem is that I just didn't understand how intense and uncomfortable they would be. I would hear a friend, a relative or even someone on TV mention their hot flash, smile and THINK I knew what they were talking about. Clearly, I didn't have a clue. I am HOT! It wakes me in the middle of the night. It brings me to a complete halt in the middle of my day. And dang if I don't think that wine can trigger one these little episodes of "I'm melting, I'm melllllllting." Now that's just not fair. So I've switched to beer. *wink* Another trigger seems to be a shower. What the heck is that about? You're all nice and clean and before you can even dry off, you're already sweating bullets. ARGHHHH! And it's not just that it's uncomfortable; it's that I can't trust my internal thermometer. It's embarrassing to say, "It's hot in here." and look around and see that everyone is wearing a jacket or sweater because I've lowered the air conditioning to a temperature that threatens to snow.

I expected to see the lines on my face and they've come gradually. I expected to struggle with middle age spread and have begun a plan (better late than never) to counter that problem. I have some joint pain (like my 92 year old knees) and I've started supplements that seem to be helping. I am definitely might be a bit cranky sometimes and don't tolerate people and situations the way I used to. I don't really need reading glasses yet unless I put my contacts in so I can see across the room.

OK, now I think I've mentioned all my symptoms unless I've forgotten something. Oh yeah, I forget things. My lack of concentration is mind-blowing. My staff will come to me with a long-winded problem and when they finish speaking, I will at times stare blankly back at them and say, "I'm sorry; I wasn't listening, could you repeat that?" I'm not trying to be rude, it's just that something said will trigger something else on my to-do list or a lyric to a song or the Preamble to the Constitution and I'm suddenly off in my own little world.

Friends, those of you who've "been there, done that" please tell me, what else is in store for me? Are there more surprises on this journey thru midlife? Don't let me be blind-sided like I was with the hot flashes. We've got to stick together. What's next? Or do I really want to know?

SPINNING AND SPIRALING DOWNWARD

I made it to spin this morning on time. I chose a bike near the back because the people in the front are just so intense. A few more people filtered in after me but the class was only about half full. This didn't really seem to be a problem until the class started. The problem was that there was no one in front of me which for all intents and purposes meant I was the front row. Uh oh! I'm new to this spinning thing. I don't need to have the instructor having a beeline view of my posture, huffing and puffing, lack of proper form and the extra breaks necessary to keep me from having a stroke. I kept praying that more people would come as the class progressed. Where were the Barbies? Where were the athletes?

I did the best I could but to be honest, my best was not so good today. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't get up early enough to have breakfast or even coffee. Maybe it's because morning is not really when I'm at my peak performance. I'm much more energized in the afternoon. Maybe it just wasn't my day. But whatever it was, spin kicked my butt today.

As usual, the room was dark and the disco ball was spinning. My shoes, headband and sportsbra were glowing from the black light. This made it easy for me to spot myself in the mirror and observe my lack of good posture. Robin, the instructor, played lame (in my opinion) 80s music today. Is there anyone (besides Robin, apparently) who likes this stuff! Oh, gosh, I'm starting to sound like an old woman!

Now, Robin is an amazing specimen of a woman and normally her energy and stamina is enough to motivate me to work myself into a spinning frenzy. Today… not so much. I worked hard though, believe me. Once again, we peddled ourselves silly all while punching, reaching, climbing, rowing and then peddling one leg at a time. But today, I found myself mocking Robin in my head. At one point, she said something about getting ready to jump. I'm thinking, "Jump! There's no jumping in spinning!" (said in my head like the line in A League of Their Own). And dang if she didn't hear me because we didn't ever do anything that resembled jumping. This scared me because now I'm thinking Robin has super powers and can hear what I'm thinking. And my thoughts were not all that kind. I was cranky, unmotivated and just plain rebellious. Another problem was that as I mentioned earlier, she could see me clearly. So while she may not have been talking directly to me, it sure seemed like it. She kept saying things like, "Pull your stomach in.", " Straighten your posture.", " Move, move, MOVE!" and "Faster, faster!"

So now, I'm worried that with her apparent super powers she can hear my mental replies to her commands. I'm thinking things like, "Listen, here, skinny b*tch!" and "I AM moving, are you blind!" and "Maybe if you didn't have this lala music to a crappy beat, I might be more inclined to pump it up a little more".

The class concluded, I thanked Robin for a great class (because I'm polite like that) and walked out feeling a bit defeated.

I think I'm PMSing.

And to add insult to injury, I walked into MHS's office upon my return home and he said, "Man, you don't look good." Thanks, JackASS.

THE ONGOING QUEST FOR FITNESS

I overslept this morning. Without an alarm clock, I usually will wake between 6:00 and 7:00am on weekends. I don't always get my lazy butt out of bed then but I'm awake. Last night before going to bed, I decided that I would once again try try to make the IRON BODIES class at 8:30am. I didn't bother to set my alarm. I knew that I would wake in time to make it there. Best laid plans.... So when I awoke at 8:10am (it's a 15-20 minute drive to the gym depending on traffic lights), I decided I would try the 9:30am spinning class.

Some of my friends and D1 have all told me that I should try the spinning class but to date, I've been intimidated. I am often trudging along on the elliptical machine which is located just outside of the spinning room. It's dark in there. It's loud. People come out of there looking like roadkill. I guess I was feeling a little adventurous today. Or maybe I just lost my mind!

I arrived a few minutes late. I checked with the very friendly woman at the front desk to see if the instructor is OK with late comers. She said, "oh, yeah, she's fine. Just go on in." With water bottle and towel in hand, I entered the classroom. Class was already in progress so it was dark. In my rush to get out of the house, I neglected to put in my contacts. (No animals or Palm Beachers were harmed on my journey to the gym. My eyesight isn't that bad. It's just the little compact cars that I have trouble seeing.) As I looked around my eyes began to adjust to the darkness. There were several stationery bikes (obviously), a disco ball, mirrors on the walls and the instructor was on a platform shouting out commands into her headset. I was able to make out a few empty bikes and immediately saw that the class was divided into groups. The Palm Beach Barbies were all in front with short shorts and sports bras showing off their beautiful bodies and even in the darkness, I could see they had great tans. The young and athletic group was in the middle. They looked very intense. The old broads were in the back. I quickly determined my place in the class, walked right up to the front, stripped off my tshirt, showing off my 6pack (ok, 12pack) abs and began to peddle like nobody's business. Just call me Barbie's friend, Midge. NOT!

I chose the bike in the back closest to me so that I could make a quick exit if necessary. A voice in the dark told me that bike was fine but the one on the other side of her had a cupholder for my waterbottle. Cupholders are a big thing with me. I will buy a car based on how many cupholders it has. Where was I, again? Oh yeah. Obviously I chose the bike with the cupholder but was quick to notice it was near the fire exit in case things got rough. Now, I don't know if you've ever been to a spinning class before but it is WOW! Like I said the class was already in progress so I just jumped on the bike and tried to keep up. I always wondered what the big deal was just riding a bike. Well, you stand up, sit down, do push ups, punch, row, dance all while you are peddling. The music is very motivating. It was a great mix of hits from the 70s, 80s and 90s. At one point, there was an AC/DC song that's chorus sounded a lot like "f___ you, f___ you?" I didn't think that was really necessary. Afterall, I was doing my best. We went on to peddle with one leg at a time, then went back to the stand up, sit down, pushup only faster and in a combo. I like choreography. I can work with that.

The instructor, Robin, was great. I think she is near my age, give or take a few years but she looks FABULOUS! She is my new fitness role model! It was a great work-out. I think I actually enjoyed it. I worked really hard and really hope that I can walk tomorrow. I didn't keep up with the Barbies. I didn't keep up with the young athletes. I didn't really even keep up with the old broads (but it wasn't their first class) But I stayed to the end and worked my tail off. (I hope) I almost had fun. I thanked Robin for the class and walked out feeling like a new woman.

Meanwhile, Back at the Gym

Because of my work schedule, I haven’t been able to make it back for a second date with IRON BODIES. Yesterday, I finally got off work early enough make it to the class. The problem was I was there an hour early. So I decided rather than kill time until class started, I would just do my normal cardio routine instead of IRON BODIES but I promised myself I would kick it up a notch or two. I started with thirteen minutes on the Stairmaster at level 6. I usually do 12 minutes at level 5. I know, right? I’m a wild woman! The stairs kill me. I sweat like a pig while climbing and I’m pretty sure that the mental age of my knees is 92. Then it was off to the stationery bicycle where I put in 25 minutes at level 5 doing the hill climbing simulation. I found this to be more challenging and a really good workout. All the while I am being motivated by the ever-inspiring MAMMA MIA soundtrack on my iPod. Once the bike was sufficiently conquered I moved on to the elliptical where I really got into gear. I’m in the ZONE. I am MOVING! My iPod is blaring “Give me, give me, give me a man after midnight”. OK, so MAMMA MIA is probably not the obvious choice for workout music but I find it to be very energizing and “surprisingly upbeat”. (movie?..... anyone?....)

So, I’m working, I’m pedaling, my arms are going. Suddenly I realize there is a thumping in my ears that doesn’t seem to be coming from my headphones. I can’t decide if this is my heart throbbing in my ears and I'm about to have a stroke or if I’m rocking the elliptical and about to tip. As I said, I’m in the ZONE so it was no time to stop and investigate. I kept on. The feet are pumping, the sweat is flying. I’m like a crazed woman. I eventually realize people are starting to take notice. A crowd starts to gather. People are whispering. Then chanting… “Go Smart Mouth, Go Smart Mouth”.

Alright, maybe it didn’t go quite like that. There definitely were people taking notice though. The guy on the machine next to me was giving me the eye. I think this is because I was breathing so hard it was distracting. I did see a couple staring at me and whispering. I imagine the conversation went like this:

“Do you think she is alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should call someone.”

“She looks like she is about to explode.”

“Look how red her face is.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

After the cool-down, I exited the gym victoriously. No gold medal but feeling like a winner. I just hope that later today and/or tomorrow, I will still be able to tie my shoes.

MENTAL AGE VS. REAL AGE

I recently came upon a blog called “Twenty-four at Heart”. (If you aren’t already reading it, take a look) (And THANKS to Midlife Slices (read this too) for teaching me how to add that link!) Anyway, it struck me that we all have an age in our minds where we remain regardless of how much time passes. Mine is 27. Sometime during my 27^th year, I finally stopped being my Mommy and Daddy’s little girl and grew up. Relatively speaking, of course. This is a little sad, given the fact that I married at 19 and became a mother at 24. What can I say except, I’m a late bloomer. But suddenly, I was a bitch. And I mean that in the most positive of ways. I can’t say that I still don’t lapse into people pleasing occasionally but at the age of twenty seven I realized I don’t always have to do what people tell me to do, expect me to do or want me to do.

At 27, I was fit, thin, young, not completely unattractive and confident. When I imagine myself in any situation now, I don’t picture the forty-something me, I envision the perkier, firmer version. When I dress to go out into the world, I always check myself in the mirror before leaving. Occasionally someone will take a picture of me and then be “kind” enough to share the photograph with me. I’m always shocked to find that the image in the photograph is much older and heavier than the woman I saw in the mirror before I left the house. A camera defect? I think not. It’s that state of complete denial and a mental image of the twenty-seven year old version of me deeply planted into my brain that I just can’t (won’t) let go.

I’m not alone. I’m sure of it. My grandfather died when I was a teenager and my grandmother came to live with us. She always referred to our next door neighbor as “that old woman next door”. That “old woman” was probably 30 years younger than Grandma. That leaves me to wonder, what was Grandma’s mental age?

Recently while sitting with color on my hair at the salon, my stylist, who I will call Stacy (because that is her name) was getting ready to cut the hair of what appeared to me to be a woman of no less than 90 years. The woman was very thin, with many lines in her face. Her skin showed many (what my mother referred to as) age spots. Stacy asked, “What are we going to do today?” The woman flashed one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen and said, “Just make me cute!” In her eyes, I’m certain I saw the sparkle of a twenty-something young woman.

So, I ask you, what is your mental age?