“Why the necessity of a new blog Jude? You can barely manage to keep up with the food blog you have.”
Yes, I have asked that question of myself so very many times. (I talk to myself so I’ve actually said those exact words aloud.) But at this stage in my life I really feel there might be an audience for the trials and tribulations of a single, 60ish, post-menopausal woman, gay, straight or otherwise (I’ve been all three) woman that has to reinvent herself because the life she was living up until six months ago has vanished, never to return, get on it sister. So this blog is an effort to find a community of women and build a tribe that supports one another like your favorite bra.
To break the ice and set the tone here are a few things that I’ve observed recently that never occurred before say ten years or so ago…
1. When did I get big boobs? Many of you will see my new development as an asset. But somewhere around my first hot flash I began a mammary expansion and I’m not necessarily pleased with the resulting activities, although others have reaped the benefits. For instance I have to use a safety pin to close the ever-present gap around the button hole closest to my boobs, a gap that readily reveals my bra. (I’m not shy, but that’s just tacky.) In other tata related news, my boobs never attracted toothpaste drops because they were, well smaller and the renegade toothpaste spill landed in the sink as it should. Now not only do I have to apply copious amounts of make up filler to camouflage smoker lines on my upper lip, I now have to boob check my shirts for embarrassing toothpaste splatter. (And yes I was that old lady in Ralph’s with toothpaste on her blouse talking to herself.)
2. When did I turn into my mother? It’s frightening, but the first time I caught a reflection of an older woman with a striking familial resemblance and realized it was ME, and that I was/am old, I’ll say it again, OLD was a very difficult day indeed. If you haven’t experienced this particular event yet I guarantee it will make you want to CRY…and then go to the gym, dye your hair and contemplate plastic surgery. But the thought of plastic surgery immediately fills my brain with the image of all those ladies in the Landmark movie theater that seem to have purchased the exact same face. Kind of like this…
And then when my panic subsides I think wait a minute, that particular crease in my brow represents the incredible journey of my life, I’m not sure that I want to eradicate forever that badge of courage and triumph.
3. That younger person isn’t flirting with you, they’re being polite. It’s the truth. Ouch, boy does this one hurt. I really don’t feel further explanation is needed. I’m still licking my wounds.
And so ends my first post for a Well Seasoned Life. Hope you hop aboard and join me for the ride and share some of your experiences.