When I wrote the other day that I’m not actually a grown-up, I was surprised (and delighted) that so many of you claimed to have the same problem, and I felt a little better. Then I found this draft of a blog post I wrote a year or so ago, and felt a lot better, because I realized there’s a reason I have a hard time behaving like an adult: it’s because my family has given me brain damage. Continue reading
Learned an expensive lesson this week, people. Resolving to turn over a new leaf and actually cook, I went to the grocery store and shopped like a fiend for a week’s worth of meals.
Here’s my lesson up front: don’t plan meals for every night of the week, because as you know, hardly anything in a middleaged mom/wife/woman’s life goes exactly as planned (probably hardly anything in anyone’s life goes exactly as planned), and the food that doesn’t get cooked will sit around your kitchen being passive agressive. Let me explain.
You know what’s exciting, in a Christmas-y kind of way? Getting a box in the mail, a box full of clothes that you will probably love and that will probably be in your size but that you have no idea what is in there (I apparently wasn’t up to the challenge of that grammatically tricky sentence). Anyway, that exciting Christmas feeling is what I got with my first box from Stitch Fix. I promise, this is not an ad or a sponsored article. I wish it was, and that Stitch Fix would pay me. In free Fixes. (Stitch Fix people, hint hint…)
You know what it is about learning curves? They’re very long. And steep. And there’s a lot more to them than you might initially think. When you’re learning something new, you not only have to learn the new thing. You also have to learn the things surrounding the new thing as well as the things that come after the thing, and they’re usually things you wouldn’t think to think of. Make sense? No? I’ll give you an example.
My planned topic for tonight got preempted by something you, my fellow middleaged women, really need to know. I’m being serious this time:
I went to Hashtagify.me, a site that shows you the top 10 hashtags associated with any particular word. I entered “dogs” and got predictable results like “love,” “cute,” and “puppy.” I tried some others, and found nothing surprising. Then I entered the word “middleaged,” and there were some interesting and even intriguing results. One was “silverfox,”* which was evocative, making me think of a sleek creature slipping through trees in the moonlight. Another was “story,” which I thought was perfect since I’m trying to tell my middleaged story here (and, hopefully, the story of others like me). I also liked “free.” Then there was “sexy” and “loved” and “romantic.”
Also listed as a top 10 word related to “middleaged”: serialkiller.
I want to be a bad-ass, too…
Remember when I wanted to join a roller derby? Changed my mind. I want to play ice hockey. I can (sort of) skate, but I can’t stop. Still, I think the only time hockey players actually stop is when they’re slammed into the walls, so that shouldn’t be a problem. The discovery of this new goal came toward the end of a great day. And it happened because I fought my natural desire to hunker down and stay home on a cold, rainy spring day. I’ll share the progression with you; feel free to copy if you want.
How to have a great day and end it with renewed excitement and passion:
Remember what I said last week, about not wanting to be an adolescent girl again? Turns out, I AM an adolescent girl again. Look at the horrifying evidence:
- Struggling with unwelcome changes in my body;
- Ready to explore the world and (re)find my place in it;
- Staring deeply into my own eyes while looking in a mirror and studying a book on how to look pretty.
I’d better explain that last one.
I’m back and feeling more middleaged than ever. Awhile ago, I was saying how when other middleaged women talk about feeling old, I always think, “But I still feel like I’m 30,” or some such superior thing. Well, my body has betrayed me. Still, I would FAR rather be middleaged than a 15-year-old girl again. More on that in a minute.
Quick shift of focus: when someone states to the world at large that basically God commanded her to sit her butt down and write her blog, you’d think she would actually comply (“She” being “me.”) But instead, I spent another month sitting on my Continue reading
Is it a “thing” that middleaged women tend to look at their lives, their lifestyles, and wonder what their purpose is, where they’re going? Because I’ve had some serious thoughts along these lines in the last couple of months. I’ll share them, but they require a preface, beginning with this shocking news:
I did not nap today.