Tag Archives: middleaged woman

Look Like a Fool…Who Cares? (Well, I Do. But Just a Little.)

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.
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Middleaged Women, Read Immediately: Your Family Is in Danger

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. 
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7 Steps to Happiness and Fulfillment

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:
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From Adolescent to Middleaged and (Oh, No!) Back Again

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:

  • Hormonal;
  • 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.
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I’ll Stay Middleaged, Thank You Very Much…

 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

Lifestyle Inspiration: 4 Revelations

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. 

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Middleaged Friends: Bring a Little More Singing (or Whatever) Into Your Life

 

So true, so true…

 
Once women become middleaged, especially if they have a family, I think we often find we have lost a part of ourselves — that we’ve forgotten what we’re passionate about and don’t spend enough time nurturing ourselves. Do you agree? If so, read on.

I’ve talked about my love of singing before: how I sing along with the Muzak in the grocery store and don’t realize it (until the clerk says, “I guess you like this song”), sing Christmas Carols while I’m walking the dog (I have no idea why it’s always Christmas carols) or, like many of us, in the shower. I am blessed with a family that not only supports my singing in theory, but they never, ever ask me to shut up (though sometimes when Lizzie and I are singing together in the car, she’ll tell me not to sing so loudly because she either can’t hear the radio or herself).
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