So I woke up in a wonderful mood this morning – it is after all, not only a Friday, but a Friday followed by a three day holiday weekend. I bounced out of bed, despite a rather unrestful night. I cleaned up the house, fed all the critters and hopped in the shower. After washing my hair and exfoliating enough to take off several layers of skin, wrinkles, and dry patches, I headed to the mirror for my daily survey of the personal “real estate.” As I turned on my overhead light (which is brighter than a solar eclipse) I leaned over to see if any new lines had appeared while I was off in La La Land. Nope, not a one. We’re off to a good start. I leaned in closer...what the hell is that??? Closer...closer...OMG it’s a freaking NOSE HAIR! I started to hyper-ventilate.
Before you accuse me of overreacting, please understand that I am a fair-skinned redhead. Body hair is not something I have had to contend with as my Greek, Italian, or African American female counterparts have. I don’t grow any wild witchy chin hairs, have any hairy moles, or have five o’clock shadow on my upper lip that could be mistaken for a pornstache. Hell, I don’t have to wax my eyebrows. Even shaving my legs and bikini line is a big “so what.” But today...today...body hair has taken on an entirely different meaning, and not in a good way.
Now, I know nose hairs have been in existence since the beginning of time, along with ear sprouts. And while my dad didn’t live long enough to sport such accessories, I have seen a veritable smorgasboard of older men (and occasionally old women) who have. There is a reason why Wahl is in business, and for years, I have laughed incessantly while walking past the lame “Dad Gift Display” at whatever department store I was in during the holidays or around Father’s Day. Invariably, there it was, next to the automatic change counters and soap on a rope...THE WAHL NOSE HAIR TRIMMER. For the first time in my life, I wondered why I didn’t own one. My life is over.
But here is where my neuroses really kicks in. Unless that one nose hair, which was staring back me in the mirror, was curled up inside my nose waiting for just the right moment to make it’s debut, there is no way it was there yesterday! I mean, in the name of all that it is holy, it was so long that if it had two friends, I could have braided them together and added some beading at the end! It was longer than any of the hair in my “nether-regions” for Chrissakes. I mean, seriously, if it had been there the day before, I am damn sure I would have seen it. I’m meticulous about these things. Suddenly I was wondering if Bill had put Miracle Gro in the saline sinus spray bottle as a practical joke. How could this have happened overnight? If THIS could happen, then who knew what was next. I considered putting the Botox technician on speed dial, but obviously it would have to wait. I had more pressing issues at hand.
I quickly grabbed my tiny scissors and plotted this menacing hair’s demise. I needed a magnifying glass because, of course, along with everything else, my eyesight has gone to hell. But there was no way I could hold the magnifying glass AND the scissors with any sort of grace and skill. I opted for my reading glasses and leaned into the mirror as close as I could. OMG there was a whole ARMY of those little F&#ckers in there...it was if they had declared war and were preparing for a surprise attack.
I must warn you, if you have never stuck a pair of scissors up your nose in an attempt to actually CUT something, this is no easy feat, even with a pair of the smallest scissors. I momentarily considered using tweezers but decided that unless I started drinking beforehand, that was going to be WAY too painful for me to endure. The scissors would have to do. I carefully committed to my first snip and lopped off the most obtrusive offender. If fell helplessly onto my dresser. I swear I heard it scream. Then I ended the lives of all his little buddies in both nostrils. More light, I need more light. I surveyed the battlefield. It was over. I had won. Not a hair in sight. I was victorious.
So if any of you would like to share your nose-hair story, so I don’t feel like the only female under the age of 75 who has had to endure the heat of battle with these unscrupulous little f$#ckers, please feel free to share.
And for those of you wondering what to get me for Christmas, you can find it in the “Lame Dad Gift” section at your nearest department store.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
A woman's guide to spring cleaning...
Housecleaning…it happens when the warm breezes of spring beg us to open our windows and let in just a bit of freshness to air out the mustiness of winter. We begin the ritual of tossing out the old to make room for the new, or simply purge the unnecessary. I’m a firm believer in purging that which has grown tired or useless, worn or dated. Honestly, other than my most favorite shoes or those vintage and classic pieces that are truly timeless, there is little I hang onto in my life. If it hasn’t seen the outside of my closet in more than two years, then off it goes to the nearest Goodwill store.
I’m finding that as I get older, relationships are another thing that I need to purge on a somewhat regular basis. Friendships are often like fashion – trendy and fun at the time, but increasingly tiresome as you move through the seasons of life. Sometimes you realize that you have simply outgrown the relationship. Other times it is more a function of putting more energy into it than you are ever going to get out of it. My rule is no emotional vampires, something you really have to watch out for these days. As I have often said, who needs “the quicker picker upper” when you’re living in the world of the self-absorbed. These clueless individuals are the ones that spend 95% of their time trying to decide if you, as a friend, are worth any kind of effort and what exactly might they “be getting out of it” on the other side. They suck the air out of a room from the moment they walk through the door, leaving everyone else gasping for whatever oxygen is left. Sad that there are those that base their relationships on what they need, rather than what they can give. Those of us who have been around the block more than a few times realize that it is never about what you can get, but what you can give. The more you give, the more you receive in ways you never even imagined. I’m sad for those that never get to experience such friendships, and count myself as lucky that I have so many people in my life who are such giving souls. We sustain each other through the bad times, and they make the good times so much more worthwhile.
I had the opportunity to spend an hour or so with one such person this past weekend. I consider her much like a sister, and as is the case with my sister, I never get to see her enough. But every time we get together, it is like picking up right where we left off. We are polar opposites on the political scale (although I am closer to center than she thinks I am) but very similar in our outlook on life. I wish it could have been a longer visit. I wish she lived closer. But I’ll take what I can get when it comes to spending time with her, and I will always cherish whatever time we share. Thanks Annessa, for being such a kind, compassionate and wonderful woman. You make my life richer, just by being in it.
I’ve met several other women over the past six months, as well as rekindled relationships with several others that I have known for the better part of my 46 years. Each has proven to me that there are indeed still really great women left in the world. Several of them would describe themselves as “low-maintenance”, and in fact they are. We get together when we can, and rarely make unnecessary demands on each other. I’m happy to stroke their egos, but it isn’t required. They are secure enough in themselves to know that no amount of ego-stroking from others can make up for the fact that self-love and security come from within. They don’t spend endless amounts of time comparing themselves to other women, and they are not in the habit of putting down others on a nearly constant basis. When we are together, we laugh a lot, appreciate each other, along with our own individual beauty and talents, and we care for each other - more deeply each time we are in each other’s company. These are the friendships you never throw away, for they will sustain you through your life. These are the friendships that one should always treat as a beautiful garden, one that requires watering and weeding, care and love. Thank you to each of you and know that I consider you a true blessing. You give me hope that there are still those who truly care for others and are willing to make the commitment to family and friendships without ridiculous expectations. I look forward to many moments and shared experiences, both good and bad, that draw us closer together.
I guess what I am trying to say is don’t be apprehensive about “spring cleaning” your life, even metaphorically. While it is often scary to throw out that which is familiar, clearly there is no value in holding onto that which is not working for you in your life. Often times, there in the pile of crap at the bottom of your closet, you find something even more precious just waiting for you in that beautiful unopened box.
I’m finding that as I get older, relationships are another thing that I need to purge on a somewhat regular basis. Friendships are often like fashion – trendy and fun at the time, but increasingly tiresome as you move through the seasons of life. Sometimes you realize that you have simply outgrown the relationship. Other times it is more a function of putting more energy into it than you are ever going to get out of it. My rule is no emotional vampires, something you really have to watch out for these days. As I have often said, who needs “the quicker picker upper” when you’re living in the world of the self-absorbed. These clueless individuals are the ones that spend 95% of their time trying to decide if you, as a friend, are worth any kind of effort and what exactly might they “be getting out of it” on the other side. They suck the air out of a room from the moment they walk through the door, leaving everyone else gasping for whatever oxygen is left. Sad that there are those that base their relationships on what they need, rather than what they can give. Those of us who have been around the block more than a few times realize that it is never about what you can get, but what you can give. The more you give, the more you receive in ways you never even imagined. I’m sad for those that never get to experience such friendships, and count myself as lucky that I have so many people in my life who are such giving souls. We sustain each other through the bad times, and they make the good times so much more worthwhile.
I had the opportunity to spend an hour or so with one such person this past weekend. I consider her much like a sister, and as is the case with my sister, I never get to see her enough. But every time we get together, it is like picking up right where we left off. We are polar opposites on the political scale (although I am closer to center than she thinks I am) but very similar in our outlook on life. I wish it could have been a longer visit. I wish she lived closer. But I’ll take what I can get when it comes to spending time with her, and I will always cherish whatever time we share. Thanks Annessa, for being such a kind, compassionate and wonderful woman. You make my life richer, just by being in it.
I’ve met several other women over the past six months, as well as rekindled relationships with several others that I have known for the better part of my 46 years. Each has proven to me that there are indeed still really great women left in the world. Several of them would describe themselves as “low-maintenance”, and in fact they are. We get together when we can, and rarely make unnecessary demands on each other. I’m happy to stroke their egos, but it isn’t required. They are secure enough in themselves to know that no amount of ego-stroking from others can make up for the fact that self-love and security come from within. They don’t spend endless amounts of time comparing themselves to other women, and they are not in the habit of putting down others on a nearly constant basis. When we are together, we laugh a lot, appreciate each other, along with our own individual beauty and talents, and we care for each other - more deeply each time we are in each other’s company. These are the friendships you never throw away, for they will sustain you through your life. These are the friendships that one should always treat as a beautiful garden, one that requires watering and weeding, care and love. Thank you to each of you and know that I consider you a true blessing. You give me hope that there are still those who truly care for others and are willing to make the commitment to family and friendships without ridiculous expectations. I look forward to many moments and shared experiences, both good and bad, that draw us closer together.
I guess what I am trying to say is don’t be apprehensive about “spring cleaning” your life, even metaphorically. While it is often scary to throw out that which is familiar, clearly there is no value in holding onto that which is not working for you in your life. Often times, there in the pile of crap at the bottom of your closet, you find something even more precious just waiting for you in that beautiful unopened box.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
My life on the edge of the martini glass...
Lately, I have been contemplating my relationship with alcohol. I would like to think I have a healthy, albeit committed, relationship with my cocktails, but some days I’m not so sure about the healthy part. There is absolutely something that is so seductive to me about a dirty martini or a cosmopolitan at happy hour...maybe it is because of the civilized way it is presented in a beautiful glass with some lovely garnish, or perhaps it is the manner in which it washes over my brain, taking with it all the stresses of daily life. Whatever it is, I have decided that while I am not fascinated with QUANTITY, but QUALITY, I cannot see me ever giving up booze completely for an extended period of time...like YEARS. Does that make me an alcoholic? Probably, at least on some level. I believe that while alcoholism is definitely a disease, there are varying degrees of it in the world. At times in my life, I’ve given it up for quite a while – usually for some diet I was on that forbid drinking while on it. My record? 3 months. I nearly drove Bill mad. I think he may have actually been glad when I picked up a glass of wine again. It made me more sane, and less bitchy.
I’ve actually known more than several people who have given up the bottle, or beer, or whatever their vice of choice was, and I am always in awe of their strength and fortitude. I’ve gone to AA meetings with them, comforted them, listened to them, all the while wondering if I was really “one of them.” Where is the invisible line with such a thing? I am pretty sure wherever it is I’ve crossed it more than once, especially in my wilder, free-spirited days. Alcohol has always been my “drug of choice.” I’ve been around various forms of other drugs over the years – I did live through the 80’s during my 20’s, so it was fairly hard to avoid if you embarked upon any kind of social scene. But those types of drugs never had the allure for me that alcohol provided, in fact, I was completely disinterested in them. I never thought it was “sexy” to be snorting various things up your nose. To me, it was kind of gross and unseemly, and smoking was equally nasty. But a few people around me swore by these vices, indeed some threw their lives away for them. I still miss them, and wonder what where they would be if they had turned their addiction around. It's hard to say really. Life with alcohol is a more prolonged ending, and I believe, more insidious if you lose control. Have I ever lost control with alcohol? Yep, I sure have. In the end, I had the presence of mind to pull myself back from the edge of the martini glass, before I drowned in it.
I’ve tried to be honest with my own daughter about alcohol, and being responsible with it when that time comes. I let her have a sip of champagne on holidays or special occasions from time to time, but mostly because I do not want it to be that “forbidden” thing for her. My experience is, the more something is forbidden, the more it will carry stigmas with it later in life. She knows that there is a time, a place and an age for responsible drinking, and she is keenly aware of the effects of irresponsible drinking, and how it can ruin your life, as well as the lives of others. I am thankful she is level-headed about these things, and I hope it continues. We shall see...as any parent knows, our kids are not perfect and there are no guarantees. All we can do is set a good example for them and pray...a lot...
So for now, I will continue my love affair with my nightly glass of wine, or my Friday evening cosmopolitans. I cannot guarantee I will always be a drinker, but I can promise you that I will try very hard not to be a drunk.
Cheers!
OH! You can follow me on twitter @LolaPaloozaTuck
I’ve actually known more than several people who have given up the bottle, or beer, or whatever their vice of choice was, and I am always in awe of their strength and fortitude. I’ve gone to AA meetings with them, comforted them, listened to them, all the while wondering if I was really “one of them.” Where is the invisible line with such a thing? I am pretty sure wherever it is I’ve crossed it more than once, especially in my wilder, free-spirited days. Alcohol has always been my “drug of choice.” I’ve been around various forms of other drugs over the years – I did live through the 80’s during my 20’s, so it was fairly hard to avoid if you embarked upon any kind of social scene. But those types of drugs never had the allure for me that alcohol provided, in fact, I was completely disinterested in them. I never thought it was “sexy” to be snorting various things up your nose. To me, it was kind of gross and unseemly, and smoking was equally nasty. But a few people around me swore by these vices, indeed some threw their lives away for them. I still miss them, and wonder what where they would be if they had turned their addiction around. It's hard to say really. Life with alcohol is a more prolonged ending, and I believe, more insidious if you lose control. Have I ever lost control with alcohol? Yep, I sure have. In the end, I had the presence of mind to pull myself back from the edge of the martini glass, before I drowned in it.
I’ve tried to be honest with my own daughter about alcohol, and being responsible with it when that time comes. I let her have a sip of champagne on holidays or special occasions from time to time, but mostly because I do not want it to be that “forbidden” thing for her. My experience is, the more something is forbidden, the more it will carry stigmas with it later in life. She knows that there is a time, a place and an age for responsible drinking, and she is keenly aware of the effects of irresponsible drinking, and how it can ruin your life, as well as the lives of others. I am thankful she is level-headed about these things, and I hope it continues. We shall see...as any parent knows, our kids are not perfect and there are no guarantees. All we can do is set a good example for them and pray...a lot...
So for now, I will continue my love affair with my nightly glass of wine, or my Friday evening cosmopolitans. I cannot guarantee I will always be a drinker, but I can promise you that I will try very hard not to be a drunk.
Cheers!
OH! You can follow me on twitter @LolaPaloozaTuck
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Three cheers for Facebook!!!!
Someone recently told me that I post too often on Facebook because I’m completely insecure and need "constant affirmation" from everyone around me. Ok, I’ve given some thought to this, since I am on a path to self-improvement and enlightenment, and like to give consideration to things pointed out to me by others, at least a little anyway. Insecurity is, by definition, a negative attribute, but really, what exactly does it mean? Let’s check it out according to Webster’s dictionary, shall we?
Insecure in.se.cure adjective \in-si-‘kyur\
1: not confident or sure: UNCERTAIN
2: not adequately guarded or sustained: UNSAFE
3: not firmly fastened or fix: SHAKY
4 a: not highly stable or well-adjusted
b: deficient in assurance: beset by fear and anxiety
-- in-se-cure-ly adverb
-- in-se-cure-ness noun
-- in-se-cu-ri-ty noun
Hmmmmmmm...I’m thinking that insecurity isn’t really a problem for me. I’m pretty much comfortable in most any surroundings with anyone, I’m confident, and my marriage is far from insecure. Wow, ok then, I think I can pretty much disregard this individual’s remarks (I sorta knew that) and tell her to keep her opinions to herself. Oh wait, I already did that, never mind.
So this facebook thing, let’s chat about it for a moment. My facebook friends list is long, not because I’m loved by any and all, but mostly because I have four distinct groups of individuals that I communicate with on a more than regular basis…other “bird buddies” (being that I am a “bird” person), my old high school buddies, my “funny” buddies – people I have met through my foray into comedic writing - and my “other” buddies. The last group is mostly local to me, and actually the smallest group of people I chat with on facebook, although a few of us are at it all the time, sometimes carrying on conversations for hours. In some ways, facebook is like a “party line” on the internet, which I love. I do like to keep my facebook circle of local people smaller, as facebook has that “nasty reputation” of spreading rumor and innuendo like wildfire. Funny, I don’t really have that issue with the other groups of facebook buddies, but it’s cool.
Mainly, I love facebook because it allows me to express myself openly, as much or as little as I like. I enjoy the “tit for tat” back and forth conversations with friends, which usually leave me snorting water through my nose from laughing so hard. Happily, I’ve discovered that I’m not the only weirdo with a ridiculously acerbic sense of humor, and copious amounts of sarcasm to boot. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought to myself “GAWD, I wish I had known these people from high school were this hilarious when we were actually in high school.” The whole experience would have been way more fun, lemme tell ya.
I post because I have something to say...sometimes prophetic, sometimes silly, sometimes meaningless, and on the rare occasion, something important. Those who want to read it do just that. Sometimes they respond, sometimes they don’t. I rarely have people leave nasty comments on my page, but if they do, it’s all good. At least I inspired some sort of reaction. It would be far worse to inspire no reaction at all. Besides, everyone is entitled to their own thoughts. Mostly it would require me to care, and often I just don’t. But if they feel better, then good for them.
Facebook has allowed me to rekindle old friendships, discover new ones, and keep in touch with my family and loved ones in a really meaningful way. I’ve learned of several friends’ passing within hours of their departure from this world, and we’ve all cried and reminisced together, right there on Facebook. There have been births, and weddings (even my own), photos of pets, children and grandchildren. How truly extraordinary it is to be able to feel so close to those who are hundreds, sometimes even thousands of miles away.
So to you, Mark Zuckerberg, while there is much that “tweaks” me about your little social experiment, on the whole I am grateful. You’ve added a dimension to my life that makes me feel very blessed.
See you on the dark...I mean Facebook...side.
Insecure in.se.cure adjective \in-si-‘kyur\
1: not confident or sure: UNCERTAIN
2: not adequately guarded or sustained: UNSAFE
3: not firmly fastened or fix: SHAKY
4 a: not highly stable or well-adjusted
b: deficient in assurance: beset by fear and anxiety
-- in-se-cure-ly adverb
-- in-se-cure-ness noun
-- in-se-cu-ri-ty noun
Hmmmmmmm...I’m thinking that insecurity isn’t really a problem for me. I’m pretty much comfortable in most any surroundings with anyone, I’m confident, and my marriage is far from insecure. Wow, ok then, I think I can pretty much disregard this individual’s remarks (I sorta knew that) and tell her to keep her opinions to herself. Oh wait, I already did that, never mind.
So this facebook thing, let’s chat about it for a moment. My facebook friends list is long, not because I’m loved by any and all, but mostly because I have four distinct groups of individuals that I communicate with on a more than regular basis…other “bird buddies” (being that I am a “bird” person), my old high school buddies, my “funny” buddies – people I have met through my foray into comedic writing - and my “other” buddies. The last group is mostly local to me, and actually the smallest group of people I chat with on facebook, although a few of us are at it all the time, sometimes carrying on conversations for hours. In some ways, facebook is like a “party line” on the internet, which I love. I do like to keep my facebook circle of local people smaller, as facebook has that “nasty reputation” of spreading rumor and innuendo like wildfire. Funny, I don’t really have that issue with the other groups of facebook buddies, but it’s cool.
Mainly, I love facebook because it allows me to express myself openly, as much or as little as I like. I enjoy the “tit for tat” back and forth conversations with friends, which usually leave me snorting water through my nose from laughing so hard. Happily, I’ve discovered that I’m not the only weirdo with a ridiculously acerbic sense of humor, and copious amounts of sarcasm to boot. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought to myself “GAWD, I wish I had known these people from high school were this hilarious when we were actually in high school.” The whole experience would have been way more fun, lemme tell ya.
I post because I have something to say...sometimes prophetic, sometimes silly, sometimes meaningless, and on the rare occasion, something important. Those who want to read it do just that. Sometimes they respond, sometimes they don’t. I rarely have people leave nasty comments on my page, but if they do, it’s all good. At least I inspired some sort of reaction. It would be far worse to inspire no reaction at all. Besides, everyone is entitled to their own thoughts. Mostly it would require me to care, and often I just don’t. But if they feel better, then good for them.
Facebook has allowed me to rekindle old friendships, discover new ones, and keep in touch with my family and loved ones in a really meaningful way. I’ve learned of several friends’ passing within hours of their departure from this world, and we’ve all cried and reminisced together, right there on Facebook. There have been births, and weddings (even my own), photos of pets, children and grandchildren. How truly extraordinary it is to be able to feel so close to those who are hundreds, sometimes even thousands of miles away.
So to you, Mark Zuckerberg, while there is much that “tweaks” me about your little social experiment, on the whole I am grateful. You’ve added a dimension to my life that makes me feel very blessed.
See you on the dark...I mean Facebook...side.
Monday, June 6, 2011
If I were a man...I'd be gay...
for a variety of reasons but mostly because I would never put up with one tenth of the crap that women dish out on any given day. As a woman, I’m not proud of this fact, but I have tried hard to at least look at things from “the male perspective” from time to time. My conclusion? If I were a man, I would so be gay that I’d be dressed like Liberaci and belting out show tunes. Women are complicated, conniving, deceitful, manipulative, and downright bitchy – mostly they save this behaviour for other women, a fact that to this day mystifies me, and probably the reason why I only keep a handful of women close to me. Too many times I have stepped out of a dressing room to hear a “friend” say, “OMG, that is fabulous! And you know what would look really great with those gauchos??? Some knee socks and a pair of crocs!” Yeah, I wish I was kidding but I’m not. I’ve had friends that have a lifetime supply of ginsu knives just waiting to plunge into any woman they perceive to be a threat on any level. No mercy, go straight for the jugular. The crap women pull on each other defies explanation.
I do have a handful of friends who have withstood the test of time, and really been there for me no matter what the circumstances. We cheer each other’s accomplishments, and prop each other up when life kicks us in the teeth. We laugh together, cry together, and drink together…A LOT. We savour those moments when we can all look at each other and say with a huge amount of satisfaction “You’re a really great broad.” I love those girls. Female friendships should be celebrated, like a sisterhood. Wouldn’t it be nice if all women could treat each other with respect, and caring? But somehow, one woman always comes along who is so toxic that she poisons the water everywhere she goes. Women like that just piss me off. I can take a lot, but once they push me over the edge, that is when my “inner bitchy” comes out, complete with claws and the tongue of a viper. My tolerance for women who tear other women down so they can build themselves up is non-existent. These are the ones who should not have their “girl card” revoked, it should be shredded in teeny tiny pieces and forced down their throats.
I thank God for my female friends who shower me with love and support, including but certainly not limited to, my sister and my mom. There are others, and if they are reading this and smiling, they will realize that I am talking about them. I love you, admire you, and wish you nothing but beautiful days filled with everything wonderful that you deserve. Thank you for being there, for being my confidants, my champions, my family and my conscience. You remind me that among all the women who chronically suffer from jealousy and insecurity, there are some who are so secure in their own minds and hearts that they will not be dragged down to the level of those who are not as fortunate. In the end, you will always rise to the top.
I do have a handful of friends who have withstood the test of time, and really been there for me no matter what the circumstances. We cheer each other’s accomplishments, and prop each other up when life kicks us in the teeth. We laugh together, cry together, and drink together…A LOT. We savour those moments when we can all look at each other and say with a huge amount of satisfaction “You’re a really great broad.” I love those girls. Female friendships should be celebrated, like a sisterhood. Wouldn’t it be nice if all women could treat each other with respect, and caring? But somehow, one woman always comes along who is so toxic that she poisons the water everywhere she goes. Women like that just piss me off. I can take a lot, but once they push me over the edge, that is when my “inner bitchy” comes out, complete with claws and the tongue of a viper. My tolerance for women who tear other women down so they can build themselves up is non-existent. These are the ones who should not have their “girl card” revoked, it should be shredded in teeny tiny pieces and forced down their throats.
I thank God for my female friends who shower me with love and support, including but certainly not limited to, my sister and my mom. There are others, and if they are reading this and smiling, they will realize that I am talking about them. I love you, admire you, and wish you nothing but beautiful days filled with everything wonderful that you deserve. Thank you for being there, for being my confidants, my champions, my family and my conscience. You remind me that among all the women who chronically suffer from jealousy and insecurity, there are some who are so secure in their own minds and hearts that they will not be dragged down to the level of those who are not as fortunate. In the end, you will always rise to the top.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Stand up in your stilettos and be counted!
So, this morning, I was watching a news piece on the Today Show about the new age “expirations” on certain fashions for women. Below is the list that, according to a large group of well-dressed Britons is what is fashion and age acceptable in today’s world(flashback to Princess Beatrice’s “statement” hat at a certain recent wedding – not sure I’m ready to take my fashion cues from the Brits.)
Bikinis: 47
Miniskirts: 35
Stilettos: 51
Knee-high boots: 47
Leggings: 45
Tight vest: 44
See-through blouse: 40
Long hair: 53
Ponytail: 51
Ok, I’m looking at said list and…hmmmm…I’ve already violated three of these new “laws”. It would have been four, but I’m not a vest person, unless I’m wearing chainmail on Halloween. I’m on the ragged edge of the “bikini” law and the knee-high boots law, although I’m really not worried about the boots because in another year or so knee high boots will be “out” and no one will be wearing them anyway. As it is, I have one pair, and I usually pull them out once a year, maybe, if it’s the right occasion. That doesn’t happen often.
Now I understand where the folks that make up this “fashion taliban ” are coming from with their new age limitations, but I think they are truly missing what the REAL issue is – it is not an “age” thing. It is a “reality” thing. Everyone’s reality is different, of this much I am sure. Indeed, I have seen 55 year old women who ROCK a miniskirt AND knee-high boots, TOGETHER even (oooh, the horror!) I have also seen twenty year olds who should not only retire their miniskirts early, they should have never contemplated one in the first place. Clearly, they either do not own a mirror or they have no semblence of what is tasteful.
It’s not that I am still willing to don a 17 inch “belt” and call it a skirt. Those days are long gone for this girl, and good riddance. I’m not sure that it was ever a good idea in the first place. However, I will put on a 19 inch skirt (which is mid thigh on me since I am only 5’2”) and think nothing of it. I’ve got nice legs, and a fair amount of confidence to pull it off. I also have no problem putting my derierre in a bikini, although five years ago at nearly a size 14, I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. See my point? Not an age thing. For me, it was a SIZE thing, and there is nothing attractive about a middle-aged overweight woman trying to stuff her butt in a two piece…not a good choice and let’s just leave it at that.
I look at women like Jennifer Aniston, whom I consider to be one of the most elegant women of my generation. Yes, she is unbearably thin with a personal trainer, chef, and incredibly gifted stylist. But that still does not erase the fact that she is 46 years old. So according to the fashion taliban, her miniskirt/short dress days are long gone, and she should really at least start considering cutting her hair. And make it what style??? That crappy boufant hairdo all of our grandmothers sported??? Please…(insert rolling my eyes here.) She is gorgeous and looks hot in whatever she puts on…there is no doubt she could do justice to a burlap sack with a piece of rope around the waist. And I am damn sure that if she did wear said sack, she would be wearing a hot pair of stilettos with it, not a pair of birkenstocks (not that there is anything wrong with birkenstocks…ok, let’s just say they’re not my “style statement”).
As for myself, I will be easy to spot. I will that seventy-five year old woman in stilettos, cruising around on her jazzy (complete with custom paint job and cupholder for my cocktail.) Bill is on notice, not only do I wish to be buried in a pair of unbearably high Gucci pumps, but I am taking ALL my stilettos with me. I will wear a bikini until gravity takes its full effect, and I can see in the mirror that it is no longer a “good idea”. I will wear my hair long and big (I am and always will be a “child of the 80’s), and I while I may drop the hem in my miniskirts, they will always be above the knee. Fashion is an attitude, like so many other things in this world. For me, if I want to feel every bit of my 46 years, then I’ll go slip into a pair of mom jeans and an oversized shirt that hides every bit of feminity I have. Not only will I look like crap, I will feel like crap…not what I want for myself. I want to wake up and feel wonderful, bordering on fabulous, every single day.
Wear what you’re happy in...wear what you feel good in...wear it with confidence and a smile. If comfort is your priority, then it’s all good. If you’re looking to make a statement, that’s great too. As long as you are tasteful, elegant, and classy, it is of no concern to anyone else. Chances are, any finger pointing comes from a place of envy on the part of said finger-pointer who does not have the guts to be their own woman and have their own style – or perhaps they have no style at all.
Life, like fashion, is a state of mind, an attitude that defines us. Live it on your own terms, and to hell with the rest of them.
Bikinis: 47
Miniskirts: 35
Stilettos: 51
Knee-high boots: 47
Leggings: 45
Tight vest: 44
See-through blouse: 40
Long hair: 53
Ponytail: 51
Ok, I’m looking at said list and…hmmmm…I’ve already violated three of these new “laws”. It would have been four, but I’m not a vest person, unless I’m wearing chainmail on Halloween. I’m on the ragged edge of the “bikini” law and the knee-high boots law, although I’m really not worried about the boots because in another year or so knee high boots will be “out” and no one will be wearing them anyway. As it is, I have one pair, and I usually pull them out once a year, maybe, if it’s the right occasion. That doesn’t happen often.
Now I understand where the folks that make up this “fashion taliban ” are coming from with their new age limitations, but I think they are truly missing what the REAL issue is – it is not an “age” thing. It is a “reality” thing. Everyone’s reality is different, of this much I am sure. Indeed, I have seen 55 year old women who ROCK a miniskirt AND knee-high boots, TOGETHER even (oooh, the horror!) I have also seen twenty year olds who should not only retire their miniskirts early, they should have never contemplated one in the first place. Clearly, they either do not own a mirror or they have no semblence of what is tasteful.
It’s not that I am still willing to don a 17 inch “belt” and call it a skirt. Those days are long gone for this girl, and good riddance. I’m not sure that it was ever a good idea in the first place. However, I will put on a 19 inch skirt (which is mid thigh on me since I am only 5’2”) and think nothing of it. I’ve got nice legs, and a fair amount of confidence to pull it off. I also have no problem putting my derierre in a bikini, although five years ago at nearly a size 14, I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. See my point? Not an age thing. For me, it was a SIZE thing, and there is nothing attractive about a middle-aged overweight woman trying to stuff her butt in a two piece…not a good choice and let’s just leave it at that.
I look at women like Jennifer Aniston, whom I consider to be one of the most elegant women of my generation. Yes, she is unbearably thin with a personal trainer, chef, and incredibly gifted stylist. But that still does not erase the fact that she is 46 years old. So according to the fashion taliban, her miniskirt/short dress days are long gone, and she should really at least start considering cutting her hair. And make it what style??? That crappy boufant hairdo all of our grandmothers sported??? Please…(insert rolling my eyes here.) She is gorgeous and looks hot in whatever she puts on…there is no doubt she could do justice to a burlap sack with a piece of rope around the waist. And I am damn sure that if she did wear said sack, she would be wearing a hot pair of stilettos with it, not a pair of birkenstocks (not that there is anything wrong with birkenstocks…ok, let’s just say they’re not my “style statement”).
As for myself, I will be easy to spot. I will that seventy-five year old woman in stilettos, cruising around on her jazzy (complete with custom paint job and cupholder for my cocktail.) Bill is on notice, not only do I wish to be buried in a pair of unbearably high Gucci pumps, but I am taking ALL my stilettos with me. I will wear a bikini until gravity takes its full effect, and I can see in the mirror that it is no longer a “good idea”. I will wear my hair long and big (I am and always will be a “child of the 80’s), and I while I may drop the hem in my miniskirts, they will always be above the knee. Fashion is an attitude, like so many other things in this world. For me, if I want to feel every bit of my 46 years, then I’ll go slip into a pair of mom jeans and an oversized shirt that hides every bit of feminity I have. Not only will I look like crap, I will feel like crap…not what I want for myself. I want to wake up and feel wonderful, bordering on fabulous, every single day.
Wear what you’re happy in...wear what you feel good in...wear it with confidence and a smile. If comfort is your priority, then it’s all good. If you’re looking to make a statement, that’s great too. As long as you are tasteful, elegant, and classy, it is of no concern to anyone else. Chances are, any finger pointing comes from a place of envy on the part of said finger-pointer who does not have the guts to be their own woman and have their own style – or perhaps they have no style at all.
Life, like fashion, is a state of mind, an attitude that defines us. Live it on your own terms, and to hell with the rest of them.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
90% me & 10% someone else...where is the equity in that???
Ok, in all honestly, it is WAY LESS than 10%. Pathetic, I know. Mostly pathetic because I keep making the same stupid overtures, expecting a different outcome. I am pretty sure that is the definition of stupidity in Websters Dictionary.
My mother used to tell me two things. First, she used to say that if there is a “wounded bird” within a fifty mile radius my front door, for sure it would land on my steps. Secondly, she would often remind me that having “doormat” tattooed on my forehead was not only unattractive, it was idiotic. Being nice has its rewards. Being too nice is usually rewarded with punishment of some sort. As usual, Mom, you’re were spot on in your summation.
So, as a result of my very special forehead tattoo, my life has been peppered with relationships that usually left me feeling empty, unappreciated, and taken advantage of on a grand scale. I’ve bent over backwards so many times for individuals that I have developed a talent for being what I like to think of as “emotionally double-jointed.” As a general rule, I never set the bar too high on my level of expectation, so any subsequent disappointment is tempered. Still, sometimes there are people and relationships that I can’t help but expect more from, mostly because I have tried so hard for so long. In the end, while my effort is exponential, what I get in return is usually less than what I would get from anyone else, even strangers.
Such is my most recent experience with someone who shall remain nameless. I am not trying to spare her feelings, mind you, but the feelings of “others” (nameless as well) who hold this person very dear to their hearts. I have heard, ad nauseum, about what a “good” and “family-oriented” person she is. Unfortunately, despite my best attempts to build a special bond and relationship with her, I’ve pretty much been slapped in the face, figuratively, by this “wonderful individual” at every turn. My final conclusion? She is a bitch, in every sense of the word, who can think of only those who she deems useful and necessary in her life. If she isn’t getting anything out of the relationship, then she is putting zero effort into it. Well, guess what, honey? I am DONE, OVER IT, THROUGH WITH YOUR ASS. And once I go down that road??? Well, there is usually no turning back. I will take a lot, but once you cross that magical line in the sand, you are persona non grata to me. That is where I am finally at in my “non-relationship” with this person.
What is sad is the fact that the one who really loses in all of this is her child. She will not have the pleasure and joy of knowing me, or how much love I have to give. She will not be the recipient of my generosity or kindness, because her mother has made it abundantly clear, my services as “someone important” in her life are not required. Nice..glad to see she is thinking of no one but herself. What a special person...I am rolling my eyes now.
In the end, I am sure I will be the one who is criticized for “cutting her off” or “not being understanding” because “she has so much on her plate” and so many commitments to others. Hmmmmmmm…I could be wrong (I’m thinking not) but the only commitment I’ve ever seen her exercise is her commitment to herself and what benefits her or her immediate family. She cares not for other people, and really has no issue with making people feel obligated in order to get what she wants from anyone. Were she not a significant person in the life of someone I love to pieces, I would not have spent ten minutes trying to be good and kind to her. I suspected from the start that she was exactly the way she really is.
I know that sometime in the future, down the road, she will “need” me for something. I will try not to gloat as I tell her to take her “needs” and sleep with them under her pillow, because that will be as close as she gets to her “needs” being fulfilled by me. It may not be the “right” or “Christian” or selfless thing for me to do, but for once, it will feel damn good to not have some undeserving pain in the ass wiping their boots on my very special forehead tattoo.
See? Maybe I have finally learned something useful after all these years. :)
My mother used to tell me two things. First, she used to say that if there is a “wounded bird” within a fifty mile radius my front door, for sure it would land on my steps. Secondly, she would often remind me that having “doormat” tattooed on my forehead was not only unattractive, it was idiotic. Being nice has its rewards. Being too nice is usually rewarded with punishment of some sort. As usual, Mom, you’re were spot on in your summation.
So, as a result of my very special forehead tattoo, my life has been peppered with relationships that usually left me feeling empty, unappreciated, and taken advantage of on a grand scale. I’ve bent over backwards so many times for individuals that I have developed a talent for being what I like to think of as “emotionally double-jointed.” As a general rule, I never set the bar too high on my level of expectation, so any subsequent disappointment is tempered. Still, sometimes there are people and relationships that I can’t help but expect more from, mostly because I have tried so hard for so long. In the end, while my effort is exponential, what I get in return is usually less than what I would get from anyone else, even strangers.
Such is my most recent experience with someone who shall remain nameless. I am not trying to spare her feelings, mind you, but the feelings of “others” (nameless as well) who hold this person very dear to their hearts. I have heard, ad nauseum, about what a “good” and “family-oriented” person she is. Unfortunately, despite my best attempts to build a special bond and relationship with her, I’ve pretty much been slapped in the face, figuratively, by this “wonderful individual” at every turn. My final conclusion? She is a bitch, in every sense of the word, who can think of only those who she deems useful and necessary in her life. If she isn’t getting anything out of the relationship, then she is putting zero effort into it. Well, guess what, honey? I am DONE, OVER IT, THROUGH WITH YOUR ASS. And once I go down that road??? Well, there is usually no turning back. I will take a lot, but once you cross that magical line in the sand, you are persona non grata to me. That is where I am finally at in my “non-relationship” with this person.
What is sad is the fact that the one who really loses in all of this is her child. She will not have the pleasure and joy of knowing me, or how much love I have to give. She will not be the recipient of my generosity or kindness, because her mother has made it abundantly clear, my services as “someone important” in her life are not required. Nice..glad to see she is thinking of no one but herself. What a special person...I am rolling my eyes now.
In the end, I am sure I will be the one who is criticized for “cutting her off” or “not being understanding” because “she has so much on her plate” and so many commitments to others. Hmmmmmmm…I could be wrong (I’m thinking not) but the only commitment I’ve ever seen her exercise is her commitment to herself and what benefits her or her immediate family. She cares not for other people, and really has no issue with making people feel obligated in order to get what she wants from anyone. Were she not a significant person in the life of someone I love to pieces, I would not have spent ten minutes trying to be good and kind to her. I suspected from the start that she was exactly the way she really is.
I know that sometime in the future, down the road, she will “need” me for something. I will try not to gloat as I tell her to take her “needs” and sleep with them under her pillow, because that will be as close as she gets to her “needs” being fulfilled by me. It may not be the “right” or “Christian” or selfless thing for me to do, but for once, it will feel damn good to not have some undeserving pain in the ass wiping their boots on my very special forehead tattoo.
See? Maybe I have finally learned something useful after all these years. :)
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