I’d like to think I’m growing old semi-gracefully. I still feel like a 23 year old… trapped inside a 38 – almost 39! – year old body.
Which isn’t old.
Yes, when I was a kid, that was ANCIENT! My folks seemed soooo oooold when I was a kid and they were in their late thirties. And they seemed to really have it together. They were mature and grown up and knew what they were doing, right?
Now that I’m there, I feel like a fool lost in the woods. I still don’t have a clue how to parent from day to day and issue to issue. I’m hoping that whatever it is I’m doing will keep my children out of jail. That’s basically where I’m at.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration.
I actually catch glimpses once in a while of the person these boys already are and of the man they’ll be one day and I’m so proud. I should say that more. To them. But then if I start to get a little too cuddly and lovey dovey with them they pull away and think I’m a nerd and start wrestling with each other. Remember – they’re six, seven & eight – displays of affection are EW!
But this whole growing older thing is a little intriguing… and depressing!
The hormones alone are killing me. At least that’s what I’m blaming on my sleepless nights and the occasional migraine when I get one. And the moodiness. But wine helps two of those problems quite a bit. I’m not doctor, but I find a little self-medication once in a blue moon (or a bit more frequently) never hurts!
And this is just the beginning! I haven’t reached peri-menopause… I think… and menopause is in my future. I’m scared! I’ve heard horror stories! With all the troubles I’ve heard of when dealing with during menopause, I’d like to by-pass that please and go straight into whatever it is that happens after menopause.
But in the right here and now, I have friends that have had things added to their bodies – like boobs. That is to say they had boobs (or breasts or fun bags or whatever you want to call them) already. But now they have more of them.
This I understand – in the opposite sense.
If I could, I would have stuff taken out, not added in. My chestal area is okay, thank you very much. I’m talking about the thighs. And butt. And belly. Maybe not so much the butt. Definitely the hips and thighs. And belly. Did I mention the belly? Yikes… the belly.
And I used to gripe when I was younger about my body. I sure didn’t appreciate then what I had.
Want a ‘for instance’?
Stretch marks. Yep. Didn’t have too many of those B.C. (Before Children).
And the pouch. What the hell is that?
Any momma knows exactly what I’m talking about.
Pouch, paunch. Potato, potahto – call it what you will.
Granted, my pouch is probably bigger than it needs to be (see previous posts about my weight loss battle. Guess who is NOT winning that battle? And I don’t mean that in a Charlie Sheen sense… or maybe I do)…
But I don’t recall reading about pouchiness in the abdominal area anywhere in ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’… No one, in any of those books I read while pregnant, told me about the pouch.
For you men out there – besides my hubby, who knows about the pouch – it’s like a fanny pack attached to the lower belly area. An extra flap of skin where it’s all flabby and hanging from having babies.
And over the last few years, I’ve tried core exercises and pilates and yoga and boot camp – and it got me to the point where I was able to walk around, sucking my tummy in and actually be presentable. Now it has kind of all gone south. Literally.
So would I get plastic surgery?
If I’m being totally honest, probably not.
Do I really believe they can lipo 40 pounds off my frame? And if so, does that mean I can still eat anything I want? No? Umm… I’d rather use the money to fly to Europe… or pay off debt… no, I think it’s more the Europe thing, actually…
So I’ll be a flabby tourist. I’m down with that.
Not only is there surgery. There’s other stuff. Peels, chemicals, lifts and tucks…
I have friends that have gone the Botox route too. Which is a little scary ass. Not in the way that you probably think I mean it. I’m all for covering up wrinkles. I’m already starting to look permanently mad – my brows stay furrowed on my forehead and the lines around my mouth (that I claim are from smiling and laughing a lot) are making me look angry.
Good for the kids and discipline maybe. Not so good when I look in a mirror.
And now at my age, make up starts to collect in those little lines. Which makes them even more pronounced. And what am I going to do? Go without make up?
Ohmygod – I actually made myself laugh out loud! I’m alone in my house and I made myself laugh. Ah, I kill me.
Don’t even get me started on the lines on my neck… ugh. And I’m not even frigging forty! Isn’t a bit of extra weight on my frame supposed to round things out a bit? Apparently not. Oh don’t get me wrong. I’m round, just not where I need it.
What I need to do is actually go to a doctor and have him lipo just a tiny bit out of any part of my body (see list above) and inject it into my ‘smile’ lines… or brow furrows… or crow’s feet (which I also claim are from living a life of laughter… whatever)…
So Botox – I get it. I have a friend who is younger than me and doing Botox. That part, I don’t get. That’s the part I sort of have a problem with. People younger than me think they need to do something about their wrinkles.
And the killer is – she looks fabulous. She takes care of herself, she’s gorgeous and funny and bright. And she feels like she needs to do this?
Actually, come to think of it, maybe she looks so good because of the Botox. Duh…
But what does that say about me? She’s about 3 years younger than me and already doing the work to turn back the clock. Maybe I should look into this…
Okay, I looked into it. I don’t think I want needles jabbing into my face. I remember getting acupuncture a few years ago. That’s more my speed.
And the cost – think I could find a price list anywhere? Not yet… I’ll keep searching. For what I think the cost actually is for a few sessions of Botox or anything like that, I could probably put it towards a nice trip to Europe. Just saying.
Now grey hair. That’s something I’m battling tooth and nail.
Ever since my mom got sick and my brother got sick and I had my third child all around the same time, my hair has been turning… but don’t tell hubby my reasons – I just blame it on him and then his complaints of hair colouring costs aren’t quite as vocal (and my guilt over hair colouring costs are pretty much nil)…
Not that I have total white hair, but there are areas… streaks if you will. So I’m just adding streaks to the streaks. Follicle camouflage.
Well, I guess I should bring this to a close. I’ve shared more than enough about my aging body and I’ve decided I can’t sit like this anymore anyway. My back is killing me…