I’M A BAG LADY

I’m not talking about these bags……


Or these bags…..

or even this bag………. (although I really like this one and it does deserve some discussion.)  






Today is the 20th anniversary of my 29th birthday.  ACK!

I awoke this morning once again to find my permanent luggage right there on my face.  It was my birthday wish that they disappear.  I was pretty certain that they were a 40th birthday gift.  I clearly remember waking on that particular date to find what I believed to be a new development.  And I was NOT happy about it either.
 
But before you get all weepy and go out shopping for sympathy cards, today there is good news!  It’s a CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!  I was going through some old photographs and made an amazing discovery!
I won’t bore you with all of my baby photos because they are stuck like glue in a very old photo album but please allow me to enter the following photographs into evidence to present my case:

Preschool SMB

Kindergarten SMB

3rd Grade SMB

If my mother was still with us, we would have to have a serious discussion about my bangs.  Seriously…………………what was she thinking?  And don't even get me started on that big ole bow.

Clearly I was born with bags under my eyes.   You can see that even at four years of age……….bags……….right there under my eyes.  Kindergarten………….same bags.  3rd grade………….still there.
 
All this time, I thought the bags I was carrying were a sign of aging.  Now doesn’t that shine a different light on the subject?  These darn things are a sign of eternal youth.
 
So there you have it.  I may be a bag lady but I’m a very young, spring chicken, bag lady, dammit!

I feel so much better now. 

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

WANTED: FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH…..STAT!

I really had no intention of blogging today. I’m cutting back, you know. However, I had the most awful thing happen to me today. And I ran crying in the streets, whined to every single person I encountered and still have not been able to exercise this demon from my brain. So who ya gonna call? No, not Ghostbusters. I’m turning to you, my beloved bloggy buddies. I know that I can count on you to show me the love. I know you darlings can be relied upon to tell me lies the truth. Ahhhh, I feel better already.

So here is what happened:

On a lunch break last week, I came across a pair of shoes that were so comfy and exactly what I needed. I was wearing heels at the time and they were NOT shopper friendly. My tootsies were crying. I slipped on the little angels and ahhhhhhhhh, instant relief. However, showing incredible restraint, I left without making the purchase. But the shoes…..they called to me…..they haunted me……I had to go back.

Today I went back to get the comfy shoes. I figured that I deserve them, right? That’s what I said to myself. “Self, you deserve those comfy shoes that you walked away from last week. Now just hurry yourself back to the store before some other woman goes home with your shoes.” And so I did.

When the clerk rang up the sale, I was surprised to see that the sale with tax was less than the price of the shoes. Never one to make a fuss, I quietly left the store without mentioning the obvious error. Imagine my horror, when upon inspecting the receipt I found that I had been given the “55 and over discount.” That bitch! Damn her! I stood there like my feet were glued to the pavement. I was dumbfounded. I was speechless. I didn’t know whether to go back and demand to pay full price or slink to the car in a state of total depression and just be grateful for the price break.

Eventually I staggered to the car. I sat there in a daze. I got out my phone and took a self-portrait with the camera on my crackberry. OMG! I did look over 55. I bet you want to see that picture, right? Yeah, I figured. Scroll down:

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Not that being over 55 is a bad thing, mind you………unless you are only 27 aren’t even 50 yet.

My commute home takes about an hour. I had lots of time to stew in my own juices. I called MHS. He reassured me that I don’t look anywhere near 50, let alone 55. Here is a man who knows on which side his bread is buttered. Next I whined to Daddy (in whose eyes I will forever be six years old). Daddy said that the woman was just being nice and gave everyone the discount.

I was not to be consoled. I stopped at the grocery on my way home. I ran into my next door neighbor and told my tale. She told me that I look great and the woman was clearly an idiot or visually challenged. It was about that time that Daughter #1 joined me to shop for dinner. I told her what had happened and she laughed her fool head off. She actually guffawed. So much for moral support……

After she composed herself (jerk) we moved on to the seafood department. Being completely consumed with my own midlife crisis, I turned to the man behind the counter and asked what he might suggest for dinner. He asked D1 and I if we liked pork. Huh? D1 said, “Aren’t you the fish guy? Way to support your department.” He laughed and said he was NOT the fish guy but was just covering the seafood counter. I argued that he has sold me lots of fish in the past and that must make him “almost the fish guy.” Now that we were friends and all, I said, “Hey, Mr. NOT the fish guy. How old do you think I am?” He said that I was probably 35. I rewarded him with a smile instead of a psycho reach across the counter punch in the nose and bought the salmon. I love intelligent men.

So my lovelies, show me the love. Lie to me if you must.

The night of the Brad Paisley concert

How old do I look? Twenty-seven, right? Never mind that I’m standing next to my 24 year old daughter. This is my most recent photo…….other than the one above that I took today. Regardless of what you really think, just tell me that I don’t look 55 and older so I can move on with my life.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

THE SIGNS WERE THERE - I just didn't read them

I have friends that freak out over birthdays. Surprisingly many are men. Birthdays have never really bothered me. I’ve always enjoyed them. I’m for anything that includes a party and cake. I guess I have been in denial. This might explain my complete shock at the fact that I am indeed well into middle age. For me, it’s not the birthdays but the little milestones along the way that revealed the years passing by…..daughter #1 and #2's first day of high school, college applications, last proms, high school graduations, leaving for college…….and more everyday.

I remember the first time I felt the clock ticking: Daughter #1 “became a woman” November 11, 1996. You might think it strange that I remember the date. For some reason, my brain remembers insignificant dates, numbers and commercial jingles from the early 70s. I guess that is why I can’t remember the important things that I should remember. My brain is full of things like, “Wrigley spearmint, gum, gum, gum.” Do you remember that one? I remember this particular date because it was 2am on Veteran’s Day when she woke me with the announcement. I was certain I had prepared her for this occasion nevertheless she was quite distraught and convinced the world as she had known it was over. I remember thinking that it was fortunate that it was Veteran’s Day and there would be no school. She would have 24 hours to get used to the idea before she had to go out into the world as a new woman. My next thought was that while it wasn’t likely, it was now biologically possible that I could become a grandmother. OUCH.

Fast forward a few more years: We are sitting at the table eating dinner when I mentioned that I had heard on the radio that Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt were separated. I said that I was disappointed because until that time I thought they would be this generation’s Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. Daughter #2 raised her head with a look of complete confusion and said, “The salad dressing guy?”

A few years later: Daughter #2 is studying to take the SAT. The pressure of getting into the college of her choice is getting to her. Her entire future depends on the score she will receive on this test and she is descending into a serious melt-down. When I tried to offer her encouragement, she launched into a tirade about how I had no idea what she was going through; after all I had never had to take the SAT.

I said, “I didn’t?”

I will never forget the look of shock on her face. “YOU took the SAT?”

I nodded.

“I didn’t know it had been around that long.”, she said.

“Well, I did have to dip my quill into the ink to fill in those little boxes.”

“Really?”

UGHHHHH!

So, I guess with daughters like mine, my advancing age should come as no surprise. They have reminded me every step of the way.

Mini Mid-Life Crisis

What was I thinking!

After hearing those dreaded words from my physician the other day informing me of my advancing age, I hauled myself into the gym. As I explained to my doctor, I exercise regularly and have for 2 ½ years. I have to admit that my routine has become a bit stale and I haven’t felt challenged for awhile. Maybe I need to try something new. These were the thoughts that were going through my head as I walked into the gym. I am not someone who truly enjoys the process of working out. The whole “runner’s high” thing – never experienced it. I’ve run 6k and 10k runs before………..nothing. My favorite part is when it’s over. But I realize that working out is a necessary evil in my life and I trudge on. The most enjoyable experience I’ve had while exercising has been taking aerobics classes. I think this is because I enjoy laughing even if it’s at myself. So anyway, I stopped at the desk on my way into the gym and asked if they plan to add any evening classes. I was told they do not. The classes are not well attended and they have to pay the instructors. I wanted to say that maybe the classes might be better attended if they held them when average people weren’t at work. I didn’t say that though. Instead, I continued on to the locker room and started up a conversation on this topic with a complete stranger. My new friend suggested that I try the IRON BODIES class that she was on her way to right that very moment. I made my “I don’t think so face” and told her that I thought I might be better matched with a Soft, Round, Cushy Body class. “Do they have any of those?” She smiled very sweetly and told me that the class is a great all over body work-out, you don’t need to bring anything more than a towel and water and you can go at your own pace. Uh, huh. Right.

For some reason that still is a mystery to me, I followed her into the classroom where IRON BODIES was being held. The instructor, Chris, looked like a nice enough man. He welcomed me as “fresh meat” and smiled as he instructed me to be sure to work at my own pace.

The music began. We used all sorts of toys during the class. There were steps, free weights, body bars, and rubber bands. We ran, forward and backward, we lunged, we lifted and moved to the music in ways this tired body has not moved for awhile. At mid-point in the class, as I was gasping for air and gulping down water, the nice woman from the locker room asked how I was doing. As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I told her that I didn’t think we could be friends. She offered encouragement saying that I was doing great. I was not convinced.

I don’t really consider myself competitive but at some point I completely forgot those words “at your own pace”. I don’t know what happened to me. I was determined to keep up with my classmates that have been taking this class on a regular basis. I’m not saying that I was keeping up with them but I was certainly trying. I didn’t quit. There were times I had to slow down to avoid collapsing in an embarrassing heap on the floor. But eventually we arrived at my favorite part: The end. I walked out of the gym on that day proud of my accomplishment. Thoughts like,” don’t tell me I’m getting older.”, “I’ve still got it.” “I finished, didn’t I? “ all went through my head.

Driving home, it occurred to me that maybe pushing myself to the limit on the very day that my doctor tells me that my blood pressure is high and I could be at risk for stroke might not have been the most intelligent decision I’ve ever made. What was I thinking! I think I could be having my own mini mid-life crisis. My “I’ll show you” attitude would not have played well had I stroked out on the dance floor.

Around 4:30pm the next day, I was reminded of my foolish behavior the day before. I had trouble standing up from my desk. For the next two days, I was stiff and sore beyond belief. Returning to the gym was out of the question as walking was barely possible. Oh yeah, I really showed ‘em.

You know, I really thought I was above all this. I thought getting older wouldn’t bother me. And it didn’t until that day that I woke up and saw bags under my eyes that don’t disappear after I’m completely awake, lines around my mouth and excess me around the middle that doesn’t want to budge no matter how much I diet and exercise. Oh and let us not forget the words of Dr. Good News. So apparently, I’m not above it all. I wonder if there a way to approach 50 years old …………….. (someday) …………..without having at least an occasional melt-down? Is there a way to escape this desperate attempt to hang on to our youth or is it something that we should just embrace and go for it?

Will there be another IRON BODIES class in my future? You bet but this time I will go at my own pace with nothing to prove to anyone but myself. And the next time I see a middle-aged, overweight, balding man in a little red corvette, I will still smile but it will be a knowing smile saying, hey, buddy, I’m right there with you.

I received a low blow today

I received a low blow today. While suffering through my annual lower-body inspection, I heard the words, “You’re at that age when…….”. As if the exam itself wasn’t punishment enough, do I really have to be forced to listen to this! She must be mistaken. I never thought it would happen to me. I’m certain my 27^th birthday was just a few short years ago. But then again, I guess there have been signs…………….oldest daughter graduating from college….youngest daughter leaving for college……….28^th wedding anniversary approaching. This phrase was followed with instructions about getting regular blood work to check things like thyroid and cholesterol and informing me that my blood pressure was a little high which may put me at risk for a stroke…. But frankly after hearing those afore mentioned unspeakable words, all I heard was blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Apparently unaware of my glassy stare and semi-comatose reaction to her observations, she went on to gently suggest that I am overweight. Of course this came as no surprise to me. With the exception of a few years when I was a fitness instructor in my twenties, most of my life I have been what my mother referred to as……………..wait for it……………..you’ve heard it before………....ding, ding, ding: and the prize goes to: “pleasantly plump!” I personally prefer the way voluptuous rolls off your tongue. But I digress.

I was then interrogated on the subjects of my diet and exercise routine. I was quick to inform my physician that I work out for at least one hour three to five times a week. And true to form, she said, “It must be your diet, then.” Clearly, there are some areas of my life I should work to improve. But does she have to be so darn blunt about it!

So now , faced with the fact that I am “at that age when………..” What am I supposed to do with this new revelation?

Daughter #1 tells me that I should blog. I’m always saying that I’m going to write a book. She says that instead of not writing the book I am always saying I will write, I should blog. After confessing that I’m not exactly sure what it means to blog, she explains that it would be a great way to exercise my creative process. I’m pretty sure her motive might be to deflect the pearls of wisdom that I cast in her direction.

So, blog, I will. I will embrace the process of aging gracefully, tackle the struggle of creating and maintaining a healthy lifestyle, and make observations about life in general as a woman who is “at that age when….” I will share my thoughts and feelings on these issues with you, who are more likely than not, my imaginary readers.

While I am fairly certain a psychologist might agree that blogging could be therapeutic to my mental well-being, my physician has suggested that I make some other changes in my life. I’m told that if you make yourself accountable, you have a better chance of attaining your goals. So I hereby commit, in writing for all the world to witness, that I will strive to reach my health goals because as I’ve so kindly been told, “I am at that age when…..” My goals are as follows and in no particular order:

• Lose weight or grow taller

• Improve my fitness level

• Lower my blood pressure

• Eat a healthy diet and practice portion control

• Lose weight ( I thought it might help to list this one twice)

• Blog all about it

• Define myself as “at that age when……I am energetic, fit, healthy and lovin’ life!

Lofty goals, you say? Maybe but hey, why not! Go big or go home, right?