It's another lazy Saturday.
I did my grocery shopping and stuck to my list - well sort of. You know those items that are in invisible ink on your grocery list are just as important as milk and eggs!
I have the corned beef boiling away on the stove, the scent of the spices wafting through the air and it's time to sit and reflect.
Actually, I'm reflecting because there is nothing good on television and the smooth jazz station is playing some not-so-smooth crap.
OK, so what shall I tell you? What words of wisdom shall I impart to you, to change the course of your day?
Did you smile when you saw your reflection in the mirror this morning, hair all askew; yesterday's mascara giving your that lovely raccoon look, because you failed to wash it off the night before?
Did you check for new wrinkles and healing blemishes?
Well I did.
Then I stood back in all my glory, checked side view and back view and wondered, what the hell? When did I get my mother's body? What happened to my waistline, high though it were? And whose thighs are these?
It wasn't all that long ago, or was it(?), when I had a body that men fawned over. I could turn heads by just walking into a room. I was unaware of my effect at that time, so I never learned how to use it to my advantage. I suppose that's good. I suppose.
Yet now as I age, (I'll be half a century old in three more years) I find that my body doesn't move like it used to. I hear the groans as I rise out of bed in the morning - and it's Me groaning! My hip seems to catch in the socket, and the sciatic nerve has a mind of it's own. My knees ache when it get's cold and my hair is thinning.
The smooth skin of my face now seems ravaged by time and nicotine and my eyes, they will never be the blue they once were.
My taste in music has matured as much as my wardrobe.
Lingerie is something I see in a catalogue now, not the top dresser drawer. And sexy nightgowns have been replaced by over-sized comfortable t-shirts. Heels replaced by flats or walking shoes and hose, by socks.
My hair, that once was long and thick and shined like a lighthouse beacon, is kept short for convenience sake.
I don't bother wearing face make-up, it just melts off when the hot flashes take over. And damned if I can find mascara that stays on all day long!
I've noticed lately that my dietary needs have changed.
No more grilled onions on my Philly cheese-steak sandwich and mayonnaise requires an antacid. As for alcohol, well we won't go there. I eat more leafy greens, (they say it's good for your colon) and the butter I once used on just about everything has been replaced by that flavorless spread that's good for your cholesterol. And pizza, oh god how I love pizza(!) - well that keeps me up at night, even with the antacid.
I was never one for dancing in clubs, but I wish I had been. Now when I push the broom around, I find that I have to lead. And when you dip a broom, there are no applause from the other dancers.
My voice has dropped, has that smoker's sexy (okay, raspy) sound to it, but I can still fool anyone that hears my voice into thinking I am in my twenty's.
I have always been attracted to younger men, but now I find myself looking at those men in their fifties and wondering, "Would their snoring keep me awake at night?" I need my eight hours, you know!
I don't think about sex, or the lack thereof - what I do think about is, who would get the middle of the bed and all the pillows?
Yes, I have aged gracefully; like a swan put out to sea (um, swans are fresh water birds, they don't do well in salt water).
I have matured and become a wise, matronly woman. I coddle my friends, and would cut up their food, if they'd let me. I chastise and cajole and moan about how time has changed my appearance - the shell of my former self.
The one thing I have learned is that time can be an enemy, but only if I look into the mirror with my bi-focals on.
If I take them off, I look pretty damn good for my age!
So, in short - my words of wisdom to you:
You are the only one who can change the course of your day.
Don't be asking me to do it for you - I have floors to wash and you know once I am down there on my knees I am gonna need help to get back up!
J. A. Stroud
