Do you ever ask yourself why you have cable? If I didn’t have it I’d read more, which really wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Hate’s a Strong Word
There are numerous choices to poison fill our brains with—all kinds of “entertainment,” some so ridiculous, I can’t even talk about it. I’ve noticed a few of the ridiculous ones on the channel guide:
I Hate My Hair!
I Hate My Butt!
I Hate My Wrinkles!
I’ve not watched any of them. I’m assuming they’re infomercials. Recently, I’ve noticed, “Don’t Let Your Neck Reveal Your Age!” on the guide. All have exclamation points in case you don’t get the gist of how crucial it is for you to watch it and for God’s sake, fix yourself before it’s too late.
This aging thing is not for sissies and despite the fact I try very hard not to dwell on narcissistic thoughts, I do sometimes. That’s the funny thing about aging—you look at yourself in the mirror every day and you don’t see it—until you see it. Then it’s like—who the hell is that?
I’ve had this post sitting on my desktop for nearly a month. Though I’ve been quiet for awhile, it seems some of my talented bloggy buddies have been thinking about this very thing. Lou wrote an OUTSTANDING post about it. Then Audra penned one of her wonderful poems about it (not sure where it is now, but A, it WAS great). Maggie talks about her professional life in her latest post and what it’s like to be a mature woman in the workplace. V from LA broke open a spin cycle near Thanksgiving to inspire (in her hilarious way) us all to get healthier. Go read them—they are superb.
Slowly I Turn…
I did. Turned and pinched a nerve. Though I’ve read some of my favorite blogs, I’ve not commented. Sorry about that, y’all. Sometimes we have to disconnect.
I do when I’m not feeling well mentally or physically. I’m better now so I’m not going to go into boring detail about the pinched nerve thing. It hurt. I feel better.
I don’t recall this happening five years ago, so there’s that fracking aging thing again.
Let’s Just Stop Already
As a middle-aged woman, I’m slowly learning to not be so judgmental about myself. I was very harsh with myself when I was a young woman. I was gorgeous—all of us are—when that youth bloom thing is going on. We are. I think one of the good things about getting older is acceptance.
I don’t want to feel hate for myself, anyone else or any thing. It takes so much to have it inside you. It’s depressing and stressful and exhausting.
I Love My __________
I think there should be a program called I Love My (fill in the blank)! I’ll start.
I love my hair! It’s always been one of my best features. It tends to wave and curl in humid climates, like my Mom’s. It’s thick like my Dad’s was.
I love my butt! Hubby likes it. Nothing wrong with baby having some back. Love your butt – just do it.
I love my wrinkles! I don’t have that many, I don’t think. When I see women who’ve had too much botox or plastic surgery (and I’m not against that for the right reasons but I can’t do it because I’ve seen how it’s done and I hate pain), it looks strange. What’s the point of having a face that can’t express itself with lines? Those lines can be beautiful—crinkling around eyes or framing a big smile that lights up a room.
I love my eyes. They are blue like my Dad’s were and deep set and big like my Mom’s.
I love my body! It gets me around. I can walk and lift and stretch and dance. And I love it when a nerve stops pinching it. Today I love it so much. Hopefully, I can keep this going. One day at a time.
I love my compassion! I’ve felt it for others as far back as I can remember. I love this about myself. I own it. It feels good to have it.
You are as young as you’re ever going to be today. Celebrate that.
Who’s with me? What do you love about you? It’s okay to brag. Tell it! Love it!