Tag Archives: middleaged woman

How to Plan for a Week’s Meals (and then Not Eat Them)

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.
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My Short Love Affair with Zoe, plus How to Mix Patterns

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…)
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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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Warning: This Post Is Really Cheesy (But It Has Jazz Hands)

 

Like Wilbur?

 So, you know how I’ve been playing around with makeup lately? And I got this great new Kevyn Aucoin makeup book and palette for Christmas? Well, my father-in-law gave me the nicest compliment recently: “Wow,” he said. “You look absolutely radiant today.” I instantly felt beautiful. And loved. And it felt really, really good.

Sweet, right? But my next thought was, “It’s just the makeup.” Then, I remembered that a couple of weeks ago, my father-in-law told me he had made one of the nurses at his retirement community happy because he called her “radiant.” And further, he had told me that he annoyed one of his friends by taking the man’s wife’s hand, kissing it, and saying that SHE looked radiant.

I began to feel disappointed… but the glow inside was still there. Dammit, I thought, I AM radiant. And I allowed myself to feel radiantly happy… not because someone thought I looked pretty (or stylish or well put together or young or skinny). The truth is, being called radiant made me feel like I mattered to him, that I had a positive effect on him, and, just maybe, that I brightened his life a little bit.

It didn’t hurt that Paul took my hand and agreed that I looked radiant, and kissed me. I love him.

It would have been quite easy to dismiss the compliment, especially after remembering he likes to use that word “with the ladies” (his phrase). But you know what? I’ll take it. Women have a hard enough time feeling that we are okay just the way we are. Yep, sometimes I feel crappy about how I look. Sometimes I just feel crappy in general. We all do. But on the other hand, I often feel happy and loved and full of life and, yes, radiant, no matter what I look like.

My friends, you are all radiant. Celebrate yourself! Go out there and shine tomorrow.

Hey! I actually sat down to write tonight feeling a little out of sorts. And now… woo-hoo, I feel radiant! I can’t wait to shine tomorrow, with you all. Let me know how it goes. 

Feeling radiant. (And if you care, Free People flannel shirt, Free People T-shirt, Free People denim jacket)

 
**I never made it to Broadway, but I can always flash those jazz hands…