Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: 1980s, adulthood, humor, Middle-Age, mindfulness, music, songs, teens
Whenever Hubby and I go on a road trip we like to listen to podcast called “The Moth.” In this podcast regular people share true stories along a single theme. This weekend the theme was how music shapes or affects your life.
I started thinking and realized I have several pivotal memories that had songs associated with them. To this day, they can dredge up what I was feeling at that time.
When I was 12, I had a huge crush on a boy at my school named John. We were at that awkward age where we still wanted to play, ride bikes together and climb trees. But somewhere between pretending we were the Duke boys and the middle of 6th grade, things changed. By the time the first middle school dance rolled around, I was head over heels. On the night of the dance I shimmied on my Jordache jeans that were way out of my newly-divorced mom’s budget, smeared on some purple eye shadow because I read it accentuated green eyes, and drew what I thought were dramatic black circles around my eyes with eyeliner. I’m pretty sure I looked like a raccoon in drag.
When the first notes of Purple Rain came over the gymnasium speakers, I looked for John and my heart dropped into my shoes. My beloved was dancing with my friend Becca. Then they were kissing – French kissing, no less! I literally felt my heart break, and today I still hate Purple Rain with a passion.
A year later at a 7th grade co-ed party, several of us were sitting in a circle playing the obligatory game of Spin the Bottle (I have no idea where the parents were). I hadn’t had my first real kiss yet, and butterflies were jumping on a trampoline in my stomach. REO Speedwagon’s “I Can’t Fight This Feelin’ Any Longer” was playing softly in the background. Finally, I looked down – the bottle was pointing at me! A boy named David, who had braces just like me, came in for the kiss. It was just what you would expect: spitty, messy and completely unappealing. But I had crossed over some invisible threshold, and REO Speedwagon was with me. It’s also not a current favorite.
All through high school, songs and bands marked various events. U2 was a date with Colin; Echo & the Bunnymen played during rides to school in John McGarity’s car; Free Bird signified The First Time (of course it did); The Cars were a beach party; The Clash and Erasure carried me through summers lifeguarding; Blister in the Sun was every party in the woods; and, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were the summer after graduation.
Then I started thinking about what our song is. Hubby and I have tried a few times over the last 30 years to identify one, but no single song has ever really stuck. Bad Company drove with us on road trips to the mountains; PM Dawn carried us up and down 95; Poison by Bel Biv DeVoe kept us dancing ‘til the wee hours at the clubs in Bermuda, and Carbon Leaf has stayed with us from college to the present.
I realized we don’t have just one song that’s ours because we’ve changed and grown up along with the music we listen to. It makes sense now why my 50th birthday playlist was so long. That’s a lot of big moments, and music was more often than not a large part of them.
If you have a lot of songs that bring that old anxiety, joy, relaxation, or nostalgia back, consider yourself lucky – it’s proof you were in the moment. Choose your next songs carefully – you never know what feelings will become entwined with them.
Our memories may be faulty, but the songs stay true.
Thanks for indulging me on my trip down memory lane!
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulting, cancer, cologuard, health, humor, Middle-Age, New Year's
I’m not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions, mostly because I don’t stick to them. Now that I’m in my 50’s, there are a couple of things that probably should go on the resolutions list:
- Stop cussing so much, even though social media says you’re smarter if you do
- Try Dry January
- Learn how to do the backhanded Southern compliment thing (“You are so brave to stop drinking – people won’t recognize you!”)
- Say no to the good so you can say yes to the great!
- Do the Colonoscopy Thing*
When I had my latest physical in December, my doctor and I agreed that I’m a good candidate for ColoGuard…you know, the commercial you see on the TV where they deliver the box to your door, you poop in it and send it back. I’m a 70-percenter, meaning there are a lot of things that are “good enough” for me. I’ve accepted it, my family and friends have accepted it. So, being a 70-percenter, doing the ColoGuard screening makes sense – why go 100% with a free, covered-by-insurance colonoscopy when you can take the also-free shortcut, and then possibly pay for the full colonoscopy if the results come back positive?
Anyway, I was excited to not be put under and go through the prep of a colonoscopy. Pooping in a box sounded way easier.
(WARNING! This is somewhat descriptive, so don’t read on if you’re not into talking about stuff like this.)
Turns out, there’s a little more to it than that.
You don’t just poop in a box, seal it up and mail it. There’s a wand you have to swoosh around in your poop and stick in a tube like a Covid test, and preservative to pour into the poop container. It’s a pretty gross process and takes a little locked-door private time in the bathroom if you ever want to have sex again, or if you have children who barge into the bathroom with you and you don’t want to scar them for life.
The instructions are lengthy and explicit…as in an entire booklet. Then there’s a separate booklet for how to pack it up and mail it. There are even diagrams showing people sitting on the toilet doing their thing, and step-by-step instructions on how to untwist the top of the poop container, in case you’ve never opened anything in your life.
Instructions aside, there are also several warnings throughout the booklet telling you not to drink the preservative. Several warnings…as if this has been a large problem in the past and now, they have to spell it out for folks. As in…Don’t drink the bottle of stuff that was made to keep your poop fresh. Who is doing that? You are literally in a bathroom next to a sink with water, but no…some people are reaching for the sketchy bottle from the poop company and drinking that instead.
They also tell you not to fill the poop catcher up any higher than the preservative will cover.
I actually paused when I read that and thought, Let me get this straight. You’re supposed to poop into a container that is under you, where you can’t see it, and try to judge how much is too much? I’m willing to bet there’s a lot of containers shipping with a little bit of extra baggage. I’ve got a pretty strong stomach, but unless they give me a spoon and a gas mask, I’m not measuring it out like I’m baking poop cookies.
Then there are the warnings not to get any urine in with the poop.
So they’re telling 50-year-old women not to accidentally pee on something? While sitting on the toilet? Have they met any 50-year-old women? We can’t do anything without accidentally peeing. So, yeah…good luck ladies.
Long story short, I got it all accomplished and took my very identifiable box to the local UPS store, who I use for all my shipping needs. They know me. To their credit they didn’t even flinch as they gave me the tracking receipt (which I promptly lost). Oh, and word to the wise: keep your tracking receipt. Those boxes do occasionally go astray, as I learned from a friend. Apparently, her box never reached its destination and is still traveling. Now she has to do it all again.
I never received confirmation that my sample was received, and since I lost the tracking receipt I had no way of knowing if there was a box of my leftovers floating around some warehouse or lying on the side of the road. Thankfully, a couple of days ago I received a text with my results: all negative.
In the end, it was a weird, kind of gross experience, but thank goodness for the advances of science that make this process possible, and for the discoveries that lead to early detection.
So here’s my PSA – do whatever test is right for you, check your insurance policies, and for God’s, sake don’t drink the preservative!
*It is extremely important that you get tested. While I chose ColoGuard, it is not for everyone. Ask your doctor what test is best for you and get it done!
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts, shopping | Tags: clothing, fashion, humor, loft, menopause, Middle-Age, Target
Aaahhh..the holidays are here! Mariah Carey is screeching away in every store and the taste of panic-buying is in the air. You know what that means – sales. Every day my inbox is flooded with exclamation points and percentages. Are the deals great? Absolutely. They’ve even enticed me to crack open my dusty wallet. This year I decided it is time to buy some new clothes that don’t scream “I WORK FROM HOME AND JOGGERS ARE MY WAY OF LIFE.”
For those of you who know me personally, you know I’m not a big shopper. In fact, I frequently buy clothing sets off store mannequins because I suck at putting outfits together. I’ve been known to walk into a store, touch one item and run out because I’m so overwhelmed. So, when I decide to shop for clothes, this is not a decision I make lightly.
And here is where the first-world problems rant begins.
When did retail clothing stores start ignoring the middle-aged woman demographic?
I’m a pretty regular size, and I used to be able to get cute clothes from stores that cater to the younger (30’s) set as well as the older (50s+) set. They were trendy, fit well and even had the right shape.
Maybe my expectations are off base, but I can’t seem to find any stores that cater to the middle-class, middle-size, middle-trendy woman anymore. It’s all either too young (for women whose boobs are still somewhere near where they’re supposed to be and the menopausal muffin top is still non-existent) or they are for the older female crowd that just wants to hide everything under a square shirt that hangs to the knees or beneath long sweaters called dusters.
Side note: If you’re a store mannequin dresser (is there a real job title for that?), please stop pulling the backs of the shirts together with a clip so it looks like the mannequins have a waist. If you have to do that, stop ordering square shirts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried one on after seeing it there and walked out of the dressing room in a small tent.
I used to love Target, but don’t get me started on Target’s recent stylistic choices. I don’t want to live on the set of Little House on the Prairie or look like I sew my own clothes.
At the mall by my house, since the stores catering to younger women are now out of the question, I’m left trying to decide if I want to go classic square shirt and duster from J.Jill, blingy square shirt and duster from Chico’s, or “I’m in my late 60’s and have a shit ton of money to spend” in Soft Surroundings.
The only store that still works for me is Loft. Does everything fit me? No. Is some of it too young? Yes. But I can still find work and casual clothes there that don’t break the bank, and that last longer than H&M’s one season wonders.
Since vitamin/supplement companies are finally realizing menopausal women are a real demographic (watch any middle-aged woman’s TikTok feed and see how many Provitalize ads come up), maybe clothing retailers should, too. Just because we need a better bra these days and jeans with that extra inch, retailers need to know that middle-aged women haven’t given up. We’re still trying to impress our partners, and, honestly, other women – but more importantly, we’re not hiding ourselves away from the world. In fact, many of us are feeling more like our true selves than ever before.
Maybe, if clothes could be designed around what we look like now, not the past or the future, we wouldn’t spend so much on supplements and retailers could take advantage of that revenue.
So, there you have it – the gauntlet has been thrown – someone needs to design clothes for middle-of-the-road, middle-aged women that reflect who we are now, that don’t make us look like we’re trying to hard or that we’ve given up, and that don’t break the bank.
And by the way, if you’re a woman who loves the stores I’ve just crapped all over, please keep patronizing them. We all have to shop where we are comfortable. I just haven’t found more than one place that meets my shopping needs and I’m grumpy.
Filed under: Country Living, Exercise, Middle Age, Posts, Sports | Tags: fear, Horses, humor, mental health, stress
Since I posted the blog What’s Your Dream?, which Life clearly read and had a good laugh, things have gone slightly sideways. Now I’m having to eat my own cooking.
In that other blog I profoundly (I thought) said:
Whatever your dreams once were, don’t let them go entirely – find out what parts of those dreams you can still do, or how they might work in new ways for you. Life is short and unpredictable.
Of course Life is unpredictable. That can make it really fun…and then sometimes it can be a pain in the ass…literally.
For a quick recap: I had just revised my dream of owning and riding horses in horse shows to one of riding purely for mental and physical health. Just when I was finally feeling like I was getting stronger as a rider and able to work on details instead of just building muscle, I did what you’re never supposed to do – I got cocky and relaxed.
I forgot that you can ride for your mental health in a field, with a montage in your head of riding like the Elves in Lord of the Rings through buttercups and swaying grasses; but, you cannot EVER forget that you have a 900-lb animal under you who also has opinions. Long story short, as I was walking my horse, she spooked at something, and off I went. (Spooking means jumping sideways because there’s a troll or something equally scary nearby.)
Had I been paying attention and sitting the way you’re supposed to, I would have been just fine. Instead, I slid off like the frog in that Family Guy episode – you know, where he’s trying to scrape it up and throw it out the window?
I hit my lower back and then the back of my head (yes, I had a helmet on). One concussion and a spectacular bruise later, I am revising my dreams – again.
The truth? I was scared to get back on – not scared of the horse, but of the pain and inconvenience of falling and doing more damage. It took a month for me to ride again. The first day I went out to get the horse I had fallen from so I could get on her again, my energy must have been negative, to say the least. I’ve heard horses can hear your heartbeat from 14 feet away. Well, she must have heard mine because she took one look at me, nodded to her sister in the field and walked away.
“Absolutely not,” she said very clearly.
The ride went fine, and with the jitters pretty much gone the next time I went to get her, she walked right up. Horses can be great teachers, if you’re willing to listen.
Apparently, Life thought I needed to be reminded that riding for mental health includes retaining focus and positive energy.
It’s not just what you take from the experience but what you bring to it.
30 years ago, I would have gotten right back on, the Hell with what the doctors said. Now I’m seeing my chiropractor (thanks Dr. Carlsen!), sitting at my desk with ice packs, stretching and doing yoga poses to get comfortable. (When did I become this person???) I’m still going to be riding for my mental and physical health for as long as I possibly can. In fact, I asked each doctor I saw when I could ride again, and I swear each of them said a version of “What’s wrong with you horse people?” (So much – but that’s another blog.)
Revising your dreams doesn’t mean diminishing them. Sometimes it just means changing the direction from which you approach.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulting, books, mental health, Middle-Age, reading, writing
The other day I was super grumpy and stressed for absolutely no reason. So, I did one of the two things I always do when I’m like that. Since I didn’t have what I needed to make and eat an entire tray of Rice Krispy treats, I went to the bookstore (yes, I actually bought NEW books at a Barnes and Noble, not used on Amazon) with the sole intention of purchasing a genre I haven’t read in a long time – Romance.
When I say Romance, I don’t mean the plasticky covers with raised lettering and a Scottish pirate or a huge-breasted heroine with Victoria Secret hair stranded in a castle somewhere. I just wanted something happy and a bit less sugary than Hallmark or Virgin River. Maybe Maeve Binchy with a little sex? Or Outlander, which has just the right amount of sex and plot (but I’ve read and watched all of those).
What did I find?
About 100 Romance novels for current day 18-40-year-olds, with cartoon looking covers and full of young people who don’t know how to communicate with each other. They’re all going on trips or to weddings or changing tech jobs, which is age appropriate. I’m just not there anymore – at least, not for first weddings.
I found another large batch of Romances between quirky women who are attracted to supernatural creatures that may or may not kill them in between sexual encounters. Don’t get me wrong – I loved the Twilight Series, True Blood and A Discovery of Witches. I just wasn’t feeling it that day. I wanted to take the edge off, not be edgy.
I also found some Romances with a “Red Room of Pain” theme that can be interesting when you’re in the mood, but again, not feeling edgy that day.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I saw a bunch of Christian Romances. I suppose they exist in case I was feeling guilty after reading something from the Red Room of Pain section, and needed my inner church to whisper, “Make room for Jesus!” as I was reading. Ummmm…hard no. I was already grumpy – I didn’t need God hanging out on the periphery of my escape making me feel bad.
What I didn’t find was a Romance section geared toward the 45+ crowd that wasn’t Christian, wasn’t syrupy sweet and didn’t come in large print. In fact, anything that appealed wasn’t even in the Romance section – it was in the just plain Fiction section. That should tell you something – publishers clearly don’t believe 45+ people want to read about romance between their peers. After thumbing through a bunch of possibilities (think Kristin Hannah, Erin Hildebrand), I realized that Romance for the 45+ crowd all has the same elements:
- 40+-year-old woman is deserted by her husband through cheating, financial ruin, or death
- Deserted woman must abandon her old life and return to a place of her childhood and confront some trauma before she can heal
- In this process, deserted woman meets the new love of her life but she hates him at first, before he helps her see her real value and accomplish her goals (on her own of course – then they get together after)
- Somewhere in between her hating him and accomplishing her goal, they sleep together and can’t communicate afterward so it’s awkward or downright antagonistic. I always want to scream at them, “Just fucking talk already and stop being 13 again.”
- The setting is always somewhere we wish we could be – a cute cottage on a coast or in the mountains, a ranch, or a crumbling house that must be rehabbed. Anywhere but Suburbia, USA.
- There is always at least one quiet person who befriends her and tell her when she’s being a twat.
- And if you’re reading Norah Roberts, there’s a murder or assault or stalker that must be dealt with, too.
Full disclosure, one of the novels I’ve written has elements 1, 2, 3, 5 & 6 in it. I get it – it’s a formula that works.
*But I think we need to find a way to work Romance novels for the older(?) set back onto the Romance section bookshelves. How about we talk about trying to look sexy while having a hot flash? Or the heroine falling in love with a guy whose testosterone might be a little low, and he can’t always get it up? 45+ romance isn’t fiction – it’s real life, albeit just not as glamorous as jet-set 30-year-olds or as prescriptive as the Christian or supernatural romances. Real life romance may not be quite the escape you’re looking for, but it can be romantic and comedic and downright spiritual in its own way, depending on your view.
So, after an hour I bought three fiction novels – none of which have those plot points but look promising. I’ll keep you posted, but in the meantime, please don’t be offended when I don’t answer your emails, texts or calls. I’ll be eating Rice Krispy treats and reading about the circus, a cult and an affair.
*Okay, when I Googled best elderly romance book covers, turns out there is already a section for that, at least on the internet. Here is my favorite cover (I can’t even…):
Subourbon Mom 