Do you have gray hair yet? Maybe just a little at the temples? The salt and pepper special? Or a full-on silver headful?
Some women with gray hair never do accept and embrace it. My dear departed mother was one of them. She dyed her hair various shades of red for decades, boasting that she’d be a by-God red-haired grandmother! Of course, that was back when a lot more women applied false eyelashes and enough hairspray to create a small hole in the ozone layer.
Folks are more apt to go natural nowadays, especially men. Guys seem to be able to pull it off at any age, like Taylor Hicks and John O’Hurley (J. Peterman on “Seinfeld”). It’s the “distinguished gentleman” look.
My hair started going gray (white, actually) when I was about 35. It changed quickly to form a trio of red, brown and white highlights that some think I paid a stylist to do. I assure them it’s all God’s handiwork.
Changing colors I don’t mind. It’s the changes in texture that bother me, the “sproingers” as I call them. I’ve tweezed out more of those kinky little stinkers than I can count!
But I’m not going to get into that “does she or doesn’t she” thing. I’ll wear my snowy head with pride! And if it’s a special occasion, I’ll put on a flattering outfit and maybe a little makeup, but that messy gooey dye – whether it’s in a pricey salon or all over the bathroom towels – no way!
Truth is, I just can’t be bothered. Life’s too short! I’d rather be enjoying myself, watching a movie or playing with the dog, who by the way also has white hair and is just as beautiful as ever, and loves me no matter what color my hair is.
Playlist:
1. Shades of Gray — The Monkees
2. Changes — David Bowie
3. Cover Up — Trapt
4. Cold Gray Light of Gone — Vince Gill
5. I Am What I Am — Gloria Gaynor
6. The Real Me — The Who
7. Gray — Frank Sinatra
8. The Beauty of Gray — Live
9. Don’t Look Back — Boston
10. What You Get Is What You See — Tina Turner
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Family resemblance
Have you reached the point in your life yet where you look at your hands, or your nose, or your what-have-you, and say to yourself, “Oh my gosh, I look just like my mother”? Or your father, or whomever you least expected (or wanted) to emulate as a kid?
Gather ’round, people, and behold! For I have seen my dear departed father, and he is alive and well in my own hands. Yes, that’s right. When I look at my hands, it’s as if my dad is standing right in front of me.
It happens especially when I’m driving. Luckily I didn’t also inherit his habit of straightening curves! I also get a touch of arthritis sometimes in my knuckles, just like he did.
On the flip side, I’ve got my Mom’s feet. I remember it like it was yesterday … Mama loved to tell the story of how she had flat feet when she was a kid. That is, until my grandmother sent her off to summer camp. The prescription? Grammy had a doctor write a note allowing Mama to go barefoot all summer to strengthen her weak arches on the lake rocks in Maine. I’m not sure about the validity of that theory, but apparently it worked; Mama’s flat feet never returned.
I, however, am a tenderfoot. Once I walked on an old tin can and cut the heck out of my heel – some summer vacation that was! So I still have the flat feet I was born with (a.k.a. “collapsing arches”). I also have bunions like Mama had, but I haven’t worn what I call “cruel shoes” for some time, thereby avoiding the surgery she had to endure. But every once in a while when the weather gets cold and damp, those painful little protuberances make their presence known. Oh yes, you better believe they do.
Thanks a lot, Mama. Actually, that’s a complaint department I wish were still open! But in this game of genetics, you play the cards you’re dealt. I’ve got a couple of pairs – a better hand than some.
The eeriest thing about being my parents’ daughter, and I think my sisters will back me up on this, is how I take after Mama and Daddy’s mannerisms. They’ll say, “you sounded just like Daddy right then!” Sometimes I catch myself shrugging my answer to a question, simultaneously conveying my ignorance of and apathy towards it – a pure, dyed-in-the-wool Daddy-ism.
I look in the mirror and see Daddy in my smile, my forehead. A friend of mine happened upon an old photo of him at 17 years old. She thought it was a picture of me at a costume party!
I feel sorry for folks who don’t know who their biological parents are, if only because they’ll never see that mirror image of themselves, warts and all, that could give them some insight as to who they really are and how they got that way. If I’m sometimes aghast at becoming like my parents, I just think what the alternative would be, and I’m grateful I know my heritage.
Playlist:
1. Family Tradition - Hank Williams Jr.
2. Seein' My Father in Me - Paul Overstreet
3. Daddy's Hands - Holly Dunn
4. Family Affair - Sly & the Family Stone
5. I'll Be Your Mirror - The Velvet Underground
6. Tell Me What You See - The Beatles
7. Living Together, Growing Together - Burt Bacharach
8. We Are Family - Sister Sledge
9. Watcha See is Whatcha Get - The Dramatics
10. Look At That Face - Barbra Streisand
Gather ’round, people, and behold! For I have seen my dear departed father, and he is alive and well in my own hands. Yes, that’s right. When I look at my hands, it’s as if my dad is standing right in front of me.
It happens especially when I’m driving. Luckily I didn’t also inherit his habit of straightening curves! I also get a touch of arthritis sometimes in my knuckles, just like he did.
On the flip side, I’ve got my Mom’s feet. I remember it like it was yesterday … Mama loved to tell the story of how she had flat feet when she was a kid. That is, until my grandmother sent her off to summer camp. The prescription? Grammy had a doctor write a note allowing Mama to go barefoot all summer to strengthen her weak arches on the lake rocks in Maine. I’m not sure about the validity of that theory, but apparently it worked; Mama’s flat feet never returned.
I, however, am a tenderfoot. Once I walked on an old tin can and cut the heck out of my heel – some summer vacation that was! So I still have the flat feet I was born with (a.k.a. “collapsing arches”). I also have bunions like Mama had, but I haven’t worn what I call “cruel shoes” for some time, thereby avoiding the surgery she had to endure. But every once in a while when the weather gets cold and damp, those painful little protuberances make their presence known. Oh yes, you better believe they do.
Thanks a lot, Mama. Actually, that’s a complaint department I wish were still open! But in this game of genetics, you play the cards you’re dealt. I’ve got a couple of pairs – a better hand than some.
The eeriest thing about being my parents’ daughter, and I think my sisters will back me up on this, is how I take after Mama and Daddy’s mannerisms. They’ll say, “you sounded just like Daddy right then!” Sometimes I catch myself shrugging my answer to a question, simultaneously conveying my ignorance of and apathy towards it – a pure, dyed-in-the-wool Daddy-ism.
I look in the mirror and see Daddy in my smile, my forehead. A friend of mine happened upon an old photo of him at 17 years old. She thought it was a picture of me at a costume party!
I feel sorry for folks who don’t know who their biological parents are, if only because they’ll never see that mirror image of themselves, warts and all, that could give them some insight as to who they really are and how they got that way. If I’m sometimes aghast at becoming like my parents, I just think what the alternative would be, and I’m grateful I know my heritage.
Playlist:
1. Family Tradition - Hank Williams Jr.
2. Seein' My Father in Me - Paul Overstreet
3. Daddy's Hands - Holly Dunn
4. Family Affair - Sly & the Family Stone
5. I'll Be Your Mirror - The Velvet Underground
6. Tell Me What You See - The Beatles
7. Living Together, Growing Together - Burt Bacharach
8. We Are Family - Sister Sledge
9. Watcha See is Whatcha Get - The Dramatics
10. Look At That Face - Barbra Streisand
Sunday, April 12, 2009
An "Ouch!" of prevention
I knew I had to get it done. A woman my age just doesn’t mess with these things – or at least she shouldn’t! I’d put it off for far too long, but the day finally came that I had to have
… a mammogram.
What can I say about having a mammogram that hasn’t already been said? It’s an unpleasant experience under the best of circumstances, and God willing, that’s as bad as it gets.
Some women would just about rather walk barefoot on broken glass than go for a mammogram. But you go because it’s the right thing to do. You do it, and it’s a small price to pay if you can get those results back that tell you everything’s A-OK. That’s a first-class ticket to a beautiful place called Peace Of Mind.
Really, what are the drawbacks? Let’s take a less-than-serious look at what you’re up against, pun intended.
* It’s one more thing to have to think about in the midst of an already pressing schedule. And finding a spare hour or two can be difficult if you’re slammed at work.
* Once you decide to face the cold, hard facts, you probably won’t be able to get an appointment right away. It might be two months or more before the radiologist can squeeze you in.
* Insurance companies are notorious for pinching every penny they can out of their customers, but for the most part, they will cover the cost of a yearly mammogram. But for the uninsured or under-insured, you’ll have to foot the bill yourself, which is not easy if you’re on a tight budget.
( The folks at the doctor’s office are usually eager to help squash any remaining doubts you may have about being uncomfortable with your exam, which by the way is one test that you don’t have to cram for.)
* It’s an embarrassing walk down the chilly hallway past the other womenfolk in your flimsy robe. “Wear open to the front” is code for this: in the span of that 20-foot march, you’ll be flashing like a neon sign.
* When you finally make it to the dreaded apparatus, just keep in mind that the technician who runs the machine has handled this task about a thousand times, and she’s probably having about as much fun as you are!
All kidding aside, if you’re a woman over 40, it’s a preventative measure you shouldn’t put off. I fussed and fretted and worried about it for months. But actually, except for the outdated magazines, my mammogram wasn’t all that bad. The women there were all experienced, friendly and professional. And on a pain scale of 1 to 100, 100 being breast cancer, this was about a 2. You do the math.
Playlist:
1. Hurt – Johnny Cash
2. Put It Off Until Tomorrow – Loretta Lynn
3. It Takes Two – Marvin Gaye
4. Pushin’ Too Hard – The Seeds
5. Hold Me Tight – The Beatles
6. Try a Little Tenderness – Otis Redding
7. Squeeze Box – The Who
8. Under Pressure – Queen & David Bowie
9. Hurt So Bad – Little Anthony & The Imperials
10. Big Iron – Marty Robbins
… a mammogram.
What can I say about having a mammogram that hasn’t already been said? It’s an unpleasant experience under the best of circumstances, and God willing, that’s as bad as it gets.
Some women would just about rather walk barefoot on broken glass than go for a mammogram. But you go because it’s the right thing to do. You do it, and it’s a small price to pay if you can get those results back that tell you everything’s A-OK. That’s a first-class ticket to a beautiful place called Peace Of Mind.
Really, what are the drawbacks? Let’s take a less-than-serious look at what you’re up against, pun intended.
* It’s one more thing to have to think about in the midst of an already pressing schedule. And finding a spare hour or two can be difficult if you’re slammed at work.
* Once you decide to face the cold, hard facts, you probably won’t be able to get an appointment right away. It might be two months or more before the radiologist can squeeze you in.
* Insurance companies are notorious for pinching every penny they can out of their customers, but for the most part, they will cover the cost of a yearly mammogram. But for the uninsured or under-insured, you’ll have to foot the bill yourself, which is not easy if you’re on a tight budget.
( The folks at the doctor’s office are usually eager to help squash any remaining doubts you may have about being uncomfortable with your exam, which by the way is one test that you don’t have to cram for.)
* It’s an embarrassing walk down the chilly hallway past the other womenfolk in your flimsy robe. “Wear open to the front” is code for this: in the span of that 20-foot march, you’ll be flashing like a neon sign.
* When you finally make it to the dreaded apparatus, just keep in mind that the technician who runs the machine has handled this task about a thousand times, and she’s probably having about as much fun as you are!
All kidding aside, if you’re a woman over 40, it’s a preventative measure you shouldn’t put off. I fussed and fretted and worried about it for months. But actually, except for the outdated magazines, my mammogram wasn’t all that bad. The women there were all experienced, friendly and professional. And on a pain scale of 1 to 100, 100 being breast cancer, this was about a 2. You do the math.
Playlist:
1. Hurt – Johnny Cash
2. Put It Off Until Tomorrow – Loretta Lynn
3. It Takes Two – Marvin Gaye
4. Pushin’ Too Hard – The Seeds
5. Hold Me Tight – The Beatles
6. Try a Little Tenderness – Otis Redding
7. Squeeze Box – The Who
8. Under Pressure – Queen & David Bowie
9. Hurt So Bad – Little Anthony & The Imperials
10. Big Iron – Marty Robbins
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Good Deed-Doers
I can tell you any number of places I’d want to be on a sunny, unexpectedly warm February afternoon, but sitting inside hashing out the future needs of aging East Tennesseans wouldn’t be one of them.
Yet there they were last Thursday. A group of close to 100 kind souls who cared enough to… well, care.
That day the John T. O’Connor Senior Center hosted a formal “needs assessment” process, where volunteers gave their input as to what Governor Bredesen and the bright minds over in Nashville could do to improve the quality of life for seniors all over East Tennessee.
It isn’t often that “the powers that be” take the time to listen to what we locals have to say. It was the state’s way of asking “How am I doin’?” as well as “Where do we go from here?”
Of course, no good deed goes unpunished – the volunteers had to sit through a few speeches before they could get down to business.
The first was from Knox County Mayor Mike Ragsdale, who cited recent successes with new senior centers in Halls, South Knoxville and Corryton. He bragged on the $6 million county-donated land for the new veterans nursing home and ongoing efforts to prosecute harshly those criminals preying on seniors.
Using private sector money, new state programs will be in put in place, like the Health Department’s “Dispensary of Hope,” a $1 million program providing prescription drugs to low-income folks. Ragsdale praised Thursday’s session, saying it would “create a roadmap to the future to ensure that senior needs are taken care of.”
Keynote speaker John Arriola, chair of the Tennessee Commission on Aging & Disability, reported that Bredesen will submit legislation to improve seniors’ independence, especially those with disabilities. Arriola said the bill enjoys support from state representatives and senators, partly because it utilizes a global budget including funding for nursing homes as well as all other state-funded senior needs. Less paperwork, more results!
Arriola reported that Bredesen’s goals for the passing of the legislation include a target of July 1, 2009, to have all the “major players” in place and that the needs assessment process will be a great first step in determining the direction of the bill.
Finally, the brainstorming began. Small groups, each with a facilitator, discussed their issues and priorities for local seniors, and then knocked around some solutions to these challenges. It’s important stuff: affordable medicine, transportation, volunteer services, home hospice. Stuff that may not affect you right now, but you never know – someday you might enjoy the fruits of their labor!
So now the hurdle is to transcribe, categorize, and otherwise make head or tail of the all their great ideas. The resulting report will be released in about seven weeks.
Participants will receive a copy of the report. To view a comprehensive summary of the report, check www.knoxcac.org or call 524-2786 to request a copy. You can help save the county some postage by requesting the report via e-mail at knoxooa@knoxcac.org.
And if you’re feeling guilty about missing this event, plan to attend the Roll-out Party for the new Knox County Senior Service Directory on Monday, March 12, at 8 a.m. at the O’Connor Center. It’s never too late to get out there and get involved!
Playlist:
1. Help Me – Joni Mitchell
2. Talk to me – Frank Sinatra
3. Take A Giant Step – The Monkees
4. The Right Thing To Do – Carly Simon
5. I Want to Hear What You Have Got To Say – The Subways
6. Hello It's Me – Todd Rundgren
7. Listen to Her Heart – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
8. Tell Him – The Exciters
9. He Ain't Heavy... He's My Brother – The Holllies
10. When I Write The Book – Rockpile
Yet there they were last Thursday. A group of close to 100 kind souls who cared enough to… well, care.
That day the John T. O’Connor Senior Center hosted a formal “needs assessment” process, where volunteers gave their input as to what Governor Bredesen and the bright minds over in Nashville could do to improve the quality of life for seniors all over East Tennessee.
It isn’t often that “the powers that be” take the time to listen to what we locals have to say. It was the state’s way of asking “How am I doin’?” as well as “Where do we go from here?”
Of course, no good deed goes unpunished – the volunteers had to sit through a few speeches before they could get down to business.
The first was from Knox County Mayor Mike Ragsdale, who cited recent successes with new senior centers in Halls, South Knoxville and Corryton. He bragged on the $6 million county-donated land for the new veterans nursing home and ongoing efforts to prosecute harshly those criminals preying on seniors.
Using private sector money, new state programs will be in put in place, like the Health Department’s “Dispensary of Hope,” a $1 million program providing prescription drugs to low-income folks. Ragsdale praised Thursday’s session, saying it would “create a roadmap to the future to ensure that senior needs are taken care of.”
Keynote speaker John Arriola, chair of the Tennessee Commission on Aging & Disability, reported that Bredesen will submit legislation to improve seniors’ independence, especially those with disabilities. Arriola said the bill enjoys support from state representatives and senators, partly because it utilizes a global budget including funding for nursing homes as well as all other state-funded senior needs. Less paperwork, more results!
Arriola reported that Bredesen’s goals for the passing of the legislation include a target of July 1, 2009, to have all the “major players” in place and that the needs assessment process will be a great first step in determining the direction of the bill.
Finally, the brainstorming began. Small groups, each with a facilitator, discussed their issues and priorities for local seniors, and then knocked around some solutions to these challenges. It’s important stuff: affordable medicine, transportation, volunteer services, home hospice. Stuff that may not affect you right now, but you never know – someday you might enjoy the fruits of their labor!
So now the hurdle is to transcribe, categorize, and otherwise make head or tail of the all their great ideas. The resulting report will be released in about seven weeks.
Participants will receive a copy of the report. To view a comprehensive summary of the report, check www.knoxcac.org or call 524-2786 to request a copy. You can help save the county some postage by requesting the report via e-mail at knoxooa@knoxcac.org.
And if you’re feeling guilty about missing this event, plan to attend the Roll-out Party for the new Knox County Senior Service Directory on Monday, March 12, at 8 a.m. at the O’Connor Center. It’s never too late to get out there and get involved!
Playlist:
1. Help Me – Joni Mitchell
2. Talk to me – Frank Sinatra
3. Take A Giant Step – The Monkees
4. The Right Thing To Do – Carly Simon
5. I Want to Hear What You Have Got To Say – The Subways
6. Hello It's Me – Todd Rundgren
7. Listen to Her Heart – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
8. Tell Him – The Exciters
9. He Ain't Heavy... He's My Brother – The Holllies
10. When I Write The Book – Rockpile
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Heart and Mind
I think we’ve established that I’m a big whiner. I complain about needing to eat better and exercise, but so far it hasn’t translated into my doing anything about it! I can psych myself out ’til the cows come home.
But even this Queen of Denial couldn’t ignore some recent hints. Does something ever weigh heavily on your mind, you try to avoid it and then you find yourself running into reminders every time you turn around? Maybe it was my thoughts bouncing back to me in some dynamic universal ping-pong game, or maybe it’s the answer to a prayer. I think somebody up there was trying to kick my butt!
It started last week. I hadn’t been doing my usual 30-minute brisk walk. Not for a while. Let’s just say that the last time I got out and intentionally broke a good sweat just for the health of it, I shared the sidewalk with a bunch of trick-or-treaters.
Anyway, I got an e-mail about a woman who wanted to share her experience of having had a heart attack. Heart problems run in my family, and I’ve had some minor scares myself which turned out to be fixable. (The doctors said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff. Drink less coffee.” It worked.)
I stored that e-mail away in the same part of my brain where I put things like global warming, but apparently my subconscious was putting the fear of God into me. Alas, not yet to the point of action. ...
So last week I was lounging around the house, and I felt a sudden rise in my temperature on the inside, although my skin felt cold and clammy. I also felt light-headed, like my legs were disconnected, and my feet felt slightly tingly. Then I noticed my heart was racing. I flexed my fingers and toes, dreading the hallmark heart-attack symptom of one side becoming numb or paralyzed. So far I was OK on that one.
But I began to get more and more fearful that I was having “the big one.” And of course that made me increasingly scared – who do I call, is my insurance paid up, all those things you think about when it’s too late to do anything. Pretty soon I wasn’t sure what had come first: my physical feelings or thinking about it so much that I was freaking myself out!
For the next few days, I read some Internet articles (so you know they’re true!), talked to some friends and nailed down what I think was happening: a combination of too much caffeine (again – will I ever learn?!) and anemia from iron deficiency which was causing low blood-pressure.
I immediately lowered my caffeine intake and loaded up on iron-rich foods like potatoes, beef liver, oatmeal and leafy greens. Most importantly, I started walking again. I’ve even broken into a jog a few times. And do you know what? I feel better! No heart palpitations, no sudden dizziness. Equilibrium restored. There’s nothing like a brush with death, real or imagined, to get you back on the right track! Now if I can just keep it up ... Stay tuned!
Soapbox moment: Forget about your bubble butt, fitting into your clothes or looking good for your cousin’s wedding. It’s all about the ticker. Exercise now, and you’ll live to see your grandkid get married! The easiest way is to start walking. And women – Feb. 6 is National Wear Red Day to raise awareness of heart disease. Go to www.heart.org for info. Donate! Participate! Do it!
Playlist:
1. The Sloth – Phish
2. Death on Two Legs – Queen
3. God Trying to Get Your Attention – Keb' Mo'
4. When My Heart Beats Like a Hammer – B.B. King
5. You Gotta Move – The Rolling Stones
6. Walk Hard – John C. Reilly
7. Keep on Moving – Bob Marley & the Wailers
8. I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better – The Byrds
9. Young At Heart – Frank Sinatra
10. We Got The Beat – The Go-Go's
But even this Queen of Denial couldn’t ignore some recent hints. Does something ever weigh heavily on your mind, you try to avoid it and then you find yourself running into reminders every time you turn around? Maybe it was my thoughts bouncing back to me in some dynamic universal ping-pong game, or maybe it’s the answer to a prayer. I think somebody up there was trying to kick my butt!
It started last week. I hadn’t been doing my usual 30-minute brisk walk. Not for a while. Let’s just say that the last time I got out and intentionally broke a good sweat just for the health of it, I shared the sidewalk with a bunch of trick-or-treaters.
Anyway, I got an e-mail about a woman who wanted to share her experience of having had a heart attack. Heart problems run in my family, and I’ve had some minor scares myself which turned out to be fixable. (The doctors said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff. Drink less coffee.” It worked.)
I stored that e-mail away in the same part of my brain where I put things like global warming, but apparently my subconscious was putting the fear of God into me. Alas, not yet to the point of action. ...
So last week I was lounging around the house, and I felt a sudden rise in my temperature on the inside, although my skin felt cold and clammy. I also felt light-headed, like my legs were disconnected, and my feet felt slightly tingly. Then I noticed my heart was racing. I flexed my fingers and toes, dreading the hallmark heart-attack symptom of one side becoming numb or paralyzed. So far I was OK on that one.
But I began to get more and more fearful that I was having “the big one.” And of course that made me increasingly scared – who do I call, is my insurance paid up, all those things you think about when it’s too late to do anything. Pretty soon I wasn’t sure what had come first: my physical feelings or thinking about it so much that I was freaking myself out!
For the next few days, I read some Internet articles (so you know they’re true!), talked to some friends and nailed down what I think was happening: a combination of too much caffeine (again – will I ever learn?!) and anemia from iron deficiency which was causing low blood-pressure.
I immediately lowered my caffeine intake and loaded up on iron-rich foods like potatoes, beef liver, oatmeal and leafy greens. Most importantly, I started walking again. I’ve even broken into a jog a few times. And do you know what? I feel better! No heart palpitations, no sudden dizziness. Equilibrium restored. There’s nothing like a brush with death, real or imagined, to get you back on the right track! Now if I can just keep it up ... Stay tuned!
Soapbox moment: Forget about your bubble butt, fitting into your clothes or looking good for your cousin’s wedding. It’s all about the ticker. Exercise now, and you’ll live to see your grandkid get married! The easiest way is to start walking. And women – Feb. 6 is National Wear Red Day to raise awareness of heart disease. Go to www.heart.org for info. Donate! Participate! Do it!
Playlist:
1. The Sloth – Phish
2. Death on Two Legs – Queen
3. God Trying to Get Your Attention – Keb' Mo'
4. When My Heart Beats Like a Hammer – B.B. King
5. You Gotta Move – The Rolling Stones
6. Walk Hard – John C. Reilly
7. Keep on Moving – Bob Marley & the Wailers
8. I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better – The Byrds
9. Young At Heart – Frank Sinatra
10. We Got The Beat – The Go-Go's
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Countdown to Ecstasy
No, that headline isn’t just the title of an old Steely Dan album. It’s my idea of when I can stop worrying about the way I look. How much longer? I think it’d be a great thing to know, a handy mental countdown to have in place.
For instance, say I decide that my cut-off age for giving a crap is 70. I could comfort myself with the thought that in 22 short years, French fries and I will no longer have to be strangers. Come on red meat and milkshakes! No more worrying about trans-fat or calories! Ahhhh, sweet relief.
Because I will say this right now, and without apology: I’m tired of not being able to remember the last time I had a cheeseburger.
And it’s not just what I eat or don’t eat. I’d love to just throw away all my make-up, too. And a hairstyle like Demi Moore’s character in “G.I. Jane” sure would be easier to take care of.
This plan may not work for you, though. You’d have to be OK being categorized as a “crazy old fat lady.” No problem there!
But say you have a spouse. You don’t want to let yourself go to pot if your other half might decide you’re not good enough anymore and that they could do better elsewhere. Or you may want to preserve the classy picture you and your mate present as a couple. If you’ve set yourself up to be the local Victoria and David Beckham, you better not let the team down, at least not without some warning.
Maybe the two of you could make a pact to look fabulous together for a while, and then coordinate your “give a crap cut-off date” so that you’ll both poof out at the same time. Make it like an anniversary! Then ride off into the sunset together.
You might scoff at this scenario for health reasons. By all means, if you actually like jogging, well, you’re one of the lucky ones. No cut-off date for you!
I’m just saying that if I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for 70 years or so, led a fairly good life and have no immediate family or friends who would miss me so badly when I’m gone that they’d begrudge me a little happiness in my golden years, why the heck shouldn’t I loosen up a little?
Look, if it’s my conscious decision to become a big lump on the face of society, then so be it. This is America! I don’t really have to keep on checking the mirror until the day they lay me down in the cold, cold ground, do I? Because I’m definitely hearing a distinct ticking sound. ...
Playlist:
1. Sweet Surrender – Sarah McLachlan
2. Give In – Amy Ray
3. Got to Give It Up – Marvin Gaye
4. I Don't Care Anymore – Phil Collins
5. Why I Try to Look So Bad – Comet Gain
6. If I Didn't Care – The Ink Spots
7. Let Me Let Go – Faith Hill
8. Someday Soon – The Doors
9. Why Should I Care? – Diana Krall
10. Surrender – Cheap Trick
For instance, say I decide that my cut-off age for giving a crap is 70. I could comfort myself with the thought that in 22 short years, French fries and I will no longer have to be strangers. Come on red meat and milkshakes! No more worrying about trans-fat or calories! Ahhhh, sweet relief.
Because I will say this right now, and without apology: I’m tired of not being able to remember the last time I had a cheeseburger.
And it’s not just what I eat or don’t eat. I’d love to just throw away all my make-up, too. And a hairstyle like Demi Moore’s character in “G.I. Jane” sure would be easier to take care of.
This plan may not work for you, though. You’d have to be OK being categorized as a “crazy old fat lady.” No problem there!
But say you have a spouse. You don’t want to let yourself go to pot if your other half might decide you’re not good enough anymore and that they could do better elsewhere. Or you may want to preserve the classy picture you and your mate present as a couple. If you’ve set yourself up to be the local Victoria and David Beckham, you better not let the team down, at least not without some warning.
Maybe the two of you could make a pact to look fabulous together for a while, and then coordinate your “give a crap cut-off date” so that you’ll both poof out at the same time. Make it like an anniversary! Then ride off into the sunset together.
You might scoff at this scenario for health reasons. By all means, if you actually like jogging, well, you’re one of the lucky ones. No cut-off date for you!
I’m just saying that if I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for 70 years or so, led a fairly good life and have no immediate family or friends who would miss me so badly when I’m gone that they’d begrudge me a little happiness in my golden years, why the heck shouldn’t I loosen up a little?
Look, if it’s my conscious decision to become a big lump on the face of society, then so be it. This is America! I don’t really have to keep on checking the mirror until the day they lay me down in the cold, cold ground, do I? Because I’m definitely hearing a distinct ticking sound. ...
Playlist:
1. Sweet Surrender – Sarah McLachlan
2. Give In – Amy Ray
3. Got to Give It Up – Marvin Gaye
4. I Don't Care Anymore – Phil Collins
5. Why I Try to Look So Bad – Comet Gain
6. If I Didn't Care – The Ink Spots
7. Let Me Let Go – Faith Hill
8. Someday Soon – The Doors
9. Why Should I Care? – Diana Krall
10. Surrender – Cheap Trick
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Beep! Beep! Back 'er on up!
How many of you women out there are like me? You’re 40-something and you never really had to worry about gaining weight before. But you’re starting to see more “junk in the trunk” if you will, a noticeable increase in the square footage of your hind-ways real estate. Boy can I relate! If I had my own bluegrass group, I’d call us “The Saggy Bottom Girls."
I’ve always been a little “hippy” (to put it nicely), but in the last year or so, well, I’d say that the pudge factor is now officially out of control.
Of course that coincides with the time I’ve been working at the Shopper-News.
Coincidence? I think not. I don’t want to point fingers, but maybe it has something to do with how every Thursday a certain co-worker in the graphics department takes it upon herself to purvey the most dastardly delicious sweets I’ve ever sucked down. No, let’s face it, “Ms. X” is not tying me down and forcing her baked goods down my throat; I know I could say “no,” but I choose not to. And she’s certainly not responsible for all the carbs I foist upon myself all the rest of the time.
No, I’d rather blame my decelerating metabolism. I don’t eat any more brownies than I ever did. It’s just that now the same amount of calories turns directly into little fat cells. They don’t pass go, they don’t collect $200. That, and the fact that more often than not, I can be found sitting on the very derriere that I complain about.
Since I have a tendency to feel better if I can give a name to whatever self-involved situation I’m in, I felt compelled to research whether I might actually have a valid excuse for getting more plump. Of course, if you look hard enough, you can explain away just about any human failing.
Turns out that in the parlance of those who study these things, I’m a cross between an endomorph (pear-shaped and soft), and a mesomorph (average-built and well-muscled). Just in case you’re wondering, the third body type is ectomorph (small-boned and skinny) – a group to which I’ve never belonged.
At any rate, us endomorphs find it harder to lose weight, even when we diet and exercise. Apparently that’s just a fact. We’re tallish and our bones are large, but we tend towards the fat as opposed to the muscular. We generally have a tougher time getting ripped at the gym, and we’ll have a tougher time recovering from all that holiday over-indulgence.
To make matters worse, my being a woman “of a certain age” means that I need fewer calories because I’m burning less of them. So it’s a one-two punch that simply means this: if I don’t watch out, my butt could soon require its own zip code.
What cruel hand of fate ramps up my craving for things like peanut butter fudge brownies while simultaneously slowing down my metabolism to the point that it seems as if all I have to do to gain weight is to simply look at one of them? My current theme song: “I Am Woman, Hear Me Whine.”
I like to think of myself as an efficiency expert, always looking for the best and easiest way to do things, the most logical fix for a problem or challenge. If I can do something in six steps, I’m not going to take 12. But what if that’s just a convenient excuse to stay lazy? What if solving this problem actually means expending more energy (or maybe eating only one serving of chicken and dumplings at a time)? Could my present plight actually call for a sea change in my way of thinking? Have I hit bottom yet (no pun intended) with this expanding posterior of mine?
Big fat “Duh”: being overweight can only be “fixed” by eating less and exercising more – regardless of one’s body type.
That may be stating the obvious, but here’s the rub: I have to decide that it’s worth the trouble. I have to start eating less like I’m prepping for some improbable worldwide famine and, instead, ponder what my good friend who is much more in shape says: “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.”
Well, that’s one woman’s opinion, and I know she means well. I’m just not quite convinced.
Playlist:
1. So Round, So Firm, So Fully Packed – Merle Travis
2. Bell Bottom Blues – Derek & The Dominos
3. Flight of the Cosmic Hippo – Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
4. Miles Behind – Medeski Scofield Martin & Wood
5. Bigger Situation – Leo Kottke
6. Hippy Hippy Shake - Swinging Blue Jeans
7. (She's Got A Butt) Bigger Than the Beatles – Cletus T. Judd
8. Funky Butt – Mississippi John Hurt
9. Behind Reality– Oriental Jazz
10. The End – The Doors
I’ve always been a little “hippy” (to put it nicely), but in the last year or so, well, I’d say that the pudge factor is now officially out of control.
Of course that coincides with the time I’ve been working at the Shopper-News.
Coincidence? I think not. I don’t want to point fingers, but maybe it has something to do with how every Thursday a certain co-worker in the graphics department takes it upon herself to purvey the most dastardly delicious sweets I’ve ever sucked down. No, let’s face it, “Ms. X” is not tying me down and forcing her baked goods down my throat; I know I could say “no,” but I choose not to. And she’s certainly not responsible for all the carbs I foist upon myself all the rest of the time.
No, I’d rather blame my decelerating metabolism. I don’t eat any more brownies than I ever did. It’s just that now the same amount of calories turns directly into little fat cells. They don’t pass go, they don’t collect $200. That, and the fact that more often than not, I can be found sitting on the very derriere that I complain about.
Since I have a tendency to feel better if I can give a name to whatever self-involved situation I’m in, I felt compelled to research whether I might actually have a valid excuse for getting more plump. Of course, if you look hard enough, you can explain away just about any human failing.
Turns out that in the parlance of those who study these things, I’m a cross between an endomorph (pear-shaped and soft), and a mesomorph (average-built and well-muscled). Just in case you’re wondering, the third body type is ectomorph (small-boned and skinny) – a group to which I’ve never belonged.
At any rate, us endomorphs find it harder to lose weight, even when we diet and exercise. Apparently that’s just a fact. We’re tallish and our bones are large, but we tend towards the fat as opposed to the muscular. We generally have a tougher time getting ripped at the gym, and we’ll have a tougher time recovering from all that holiday over-indulgence.
To make matters worse, my being a woman “of a certain age” means that I need fewer calories because I’m burning less of them. So it’s a one-two punch that simply means this: if I don’t watch out, my butt could soon require its own zip code.
What cruel hand of fate ramps up my craving for things like peanut butter fudge brownies while simultaneously slowing down my metabolism to the point that it seems as if all I have to do to gain weight is to simply look at one of them? My current theme song: “I Am Woman, Hear Me Whine.”
I like to think of myself as an efficiency expert, always looking for the best and easiest way to do things, the most logical fix for a problem or challenge. If I can do something in six steps, I’m not going to take 12. But what if that’s just a convenient excuse to stay lazy? What if solving this problem actually means expending more energy (or maybe eating only one serving of chicken and dumplings at a time)? Could my present plight actually call for a sea change in my way of thinking? Have I hit bottom yet (no pun intended) with this expanding posterior of mine?
Big fat “Duh”: being overweight can only be “fixed” by eating less and exercising more – regardless of one’s body type.
That may be stating the obvious, but here’s the rub: I have to decide that it’s worth the trouble. I have to start eating less like I’m prepping for some improbable worldwide famine and, instead, ponder what my good friend who is much more in shape says: “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.”
Well, that’s one woman’s opinion, and I know she means well. I’m just not quite convinced.
Playlist:
1. So Round, So Firm, So Fully Packed – Merle Travis
2. Bell Bottom Blues – Derek & The Dominos
3. Flight of the Cosmic Hippo – Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
4. Miles Behind – Medeski Scofield Martin & Wood
5. Bigger Situation – Leo Kottke
6. Hippy Hippy Shake - Swinging Blue Jeans
7. (She's Got A Butt) Bigger Than the Beatles – Cletus T. Judd
8. Funky Butt – Mississippi John Hurt
9. Behind Reality– Oriental Jazz
10. The End – The Doors
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Age Against the Machine
Are you one of those "women of a certain age?" An online dictionary says it means "a person, usually a woman, [who] is no longer young but is not yet old." Well that's me all over!
But it's not all bad news. After all, they say 50 is the new 30. And 60 is the new 40 , 70 is the new 50, and so on. There's no question that we're living longer, but more importantly, we're living better and healthier. But I think "women of a certain age" feel those biological changes more keenly than men, maybe in part because we try our darndest to uphold that popular media image of youthful beauty. Maybe because we wake up one morning and see more and more of our mothers staring back at us in the mirror.
There's no denying that some things definitely change as we age. Getting into our late 40-somethings, a little more wrinkly and a little less svelte, it's like our bodies have thrown us our very own nightmare surprise party. "Surprise! Those pants don't fit anymore! Surprise! That elbow's going to ache all the time now! Smile! Your inner temperature is going to fluctuate faster than the Dow Jones Industrial Average !" Ah yes, the joys of womanhood.
Of course all of this is nothing new to "older" women who've already gone through these changes and have come out the other side just fine, thank you very much. No doubt a good dose of feistiness always helps soften the blow in these matters. I felt a little sucker-punched myself. I just never thought about it happening to me. Sure, my mother had had a rough time there for awhile, but I'd always just thought of myself as "young-ish," somewhat healthy, and pretty much immune to the ravages of time and heredity. Ha! like that old song… "funny how time slips away…"
So I'm changing some things. I've got to exercise in earnest just to maintain my current weight – never mind tackling the extra pounds! I've become more aware of the way I move, stretching before and after activities, not overextending, and being careful with past injuries that could flare up again. And I've resolved myself to the fact that my hormones are going to have a field day with me for awhile. They've had a long run, but they're tired and want to shut down, so they've decided to go out with a bang. My hormones are like a chorus line on the stage of my body, dancing off in a kick-line singing "This is the end of the show!"
The Change sure does sneak up on you. I thought, "Can it really be time to join this club?!" Needless to say, I had no say in the matter – my body "volunteered" me!
At this point I just try to remember that even though I'll never go back to age 30, I don't have to act like anyone else's version of a woman my age. I truly believe that you're as young as you feel. And being a little more honest about the one body we're given, and taking care of it as best we can, we'll surely live longer, healthier, and happier lives. And that's good advice for any age!
Playlist:
1. Older Women – Ronnie McDowell
2. A Peak You Reach – Badly Drawn Boy
3. Reelin' in the Years – Steely Dan
4. The Old Gray Mare – The Skillet-Lickers
5. Getting Old – Lucie Blue Tremblay
6. Man, I Feel Like A Woman – Shania Twain
7. Be Proud of the Gray in Your Hair – Dave Evans
8. Your Mother Should Know – The Beatles
9. Silver Threads Among the Gold – Jo Stafford & The Gaslight Singers
10. Age Ain't Nothing but a Number – Aaliyah
But it's not all bad news. After all, they say 50 is the new 30. And 60 is the new 40 , 70 is the new 50, and so on. There's no question that we're living longer, but more importantly, we're living better and healthier. But I think "women of a certain age" feel those biological changes more keenly than men, maybe in part because we try our darndest to uphold that popular media image of youthful beauty. Maybe because we wake up one morning and see more and more of our mothers staring back at us in the mirror.
There's no denying that some things definitely change as we age. Getting into our late 40-somethings, a little more wrinkly and a little less svelte, it's like our bodies have thrown us our very own nightmare surprise party. "Surprise! Those pants don't fit anymore! Surprise! That elbow's going to ache all the time now! Smile! Your inner temperature is going to fluctuate faster than the Dow Jones Industrial Average !" Ah yes, the joys of womanhood.
Of course all of this is nothing new to "older" women who've already gone through these changes and have come out the other side just fine, thank you very much. No doubt a good dose of feistiness always helps soften the blow in these matters. I felt a little sucker-punched myself. I just never thought about it happening to me. Sure, my mother had had a rough time there for awhile, but I'd always just thought of myself as "young-ish," somewhat healthy, and pretty much immune to the ravages of time and heredity. Ha! like that old song… "funny how time slips away…"
So I'm changing some things. I've got to exercise in earnest just to maintain my current weight – never mind tackling the extra pounds! I've become more aware of the way I move, stretching before and after activities, not overextending, and being careful with past injuries that could flare up again. And I've resolved myself to the fact that my hormones are going to have a field day with me for awhile. They've had a long run, but they're tired and want to shut down, so they've decided to go out with a bang. My hormones are like a chorus line on the stage of my body, dancing off in a kick-line singing "This is the end of the show!"
The Change sure does sneak up on you. I thought, "Can it really be time to join this club?!" Needless to say, I had no say in the matter – my body "volunteered" me!
At this point I just try to remember that even though I'll never go back to age 30, I don't have to act like anyone else's version of a woman my age. I truly believe that you're as young as you feel. And being a little more honest about the one body we're given, and taking care of it as best we can, we'll surely live longer, healthier, and happier lives. And that's good advice for any age!
Playlist:
1. Older Women – Ronnie McDowell
2. A Peak You Reach – Badly Drawn Boy
3. Reelin' in the Years – Steely Dan
4. The Old Gray Mare – The Skillet-Lickers
5. Getting Old – Lucie Blue Tremblay
6. Man, I Feel Like A Woman – Shania Twain
7. Be Proud of the Gray in Your Hair – Dave Evans
8. Your Mother Should Know – The Beatles
9. Silver Threads Among the Gold – Jo Stafford & The Gaslight Singers
10. Age Ain't Nothing but a Number – Aaliyah
Friday, October 24, 2008
With Age Comes Wisdom
Exactly what does the phrase "with age comes wisdom" mean? You might describe it with this adage:
Question: How long does it take for you to stop falling into a big hole as you walk along the same path each day?
Answer: Until you decide to walk around it instead.
And you would decide to walk around that hole because you've gained some wisdom (and broken bones) from falling into it so many times.
Age is the accumulation of experience that gives credence and volume to that little voice in your head that says to do (or not to do) something. You know, the little voice that says not to believe the salesman when he calls you on the phone and says "I'm offering this deal to very few people, and you're the lucky one today." The voice that cautions you not to leave those clothes on the line because it looks like rain. The voice that says, "I think I'll stock up on Extreme Moose Tracks ice cream while this sale is on."
Sounds like common sense, and it is. But lots of young folks are deficient in that department. How else could they not realize that talking on their cell phones while driving isn't safe? Or that the world won't end because they missed out on one date with that gorgeous, popular guy or girl?
No, they're too young to worry about consequences, and they don't have the perspective to take it all in stride. To know that today is probably not the best or the worst day they'll ever have, but only one of many days to be experienced to the fullest.
Of course, getting older doesn't mean you'll automatically gain wisdom. You have to be open to learning and changing. We've all been around older people who refused to see anything any differently than they did in, say, 1957. They may know a lot, but they're no fun!
Age gives us time to sort out all our experiences and make something meaningful of them. We often don't even realize that we've gained all this wisdom over the years. If you're like me, you are sometimes startled to see how many years have gone by seemingly in the blink of an eye. As some have said, "If I'd known I was going to live this long, I'd have taken better care of myself." And that's one thing that only age can teach you.
So don't give your grandma short shrift. She's been through a lot and would probably be more than happy to teach you a class in Wisdom 101. Why don't you give her a call? Now that'd be a smart move.
Playlist:
1. The Times They Are A'Changin' – The Byrds
2. When I'm 64 – The Beatles
3. Older – Colbie Caillat
4. Older – They Might Be Giants
5. September Song – Bryan Ferry
6. The Prophet's Song – Queen
7. Yesterday's Wine – Merle Haggard (with George Jones)
8. It Was A Very Good Year – Frank Sinatra
9. Wisdom – David Gray
10. Teach Your Children – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
