Oh, the RUSH!

Mr. Taylor and "Mrs. Swanson" after the show

I took the stage as "Mrs. Swanson" in TY Martin's "The Color of My Skin" Sunday evening. It was a total blast and I got a lot of great compliments on my work, including some from a lady who does stage productions in South Ga. who sat next to my daughter in the audience. She couldn't believe it was my first time on a "big" stage. She told me afterwards that I was a natural and my timing was perfect (among other things but I'll stop here just so my head doesn't swell any further.)

What a rush!

I really needed it to go well. I've been way overdue for some FUN, and that was about as much fun as anyone could ask for.

Of course, it wasn't exactly perfect. One of my favorite scenes, and a lot of my lines from yet another, got cut because the show was running too long. Foregoing any measure of self-respect, I shamelessly begged and pouted to the director to not cut my part, but it was to no avail. I suppose that's how it goes with live productions.

I am definitely going to keep doing this! I've already accepted a role in a trade-show commercial and will be taping that next week. I'm also looking forward to working in the next TY Martin production, "Diva-rella" After that, who knows what might happen!

Here are some pictures to illustrate the experience from the audition to the "wrap"

Cast Photo Shoot

Networking Event

Headshot

(by Deborah Johnson Damron-Crossfire Photography)

Networking at Cafe 290

Stylist Sandy Hudson transforming me into Mrs. Swanson

Here come the fans!

My kids sent this picture to me to ease my nerves before the show.

It worked!

My family came in from TN, OH, and North GA just to support me. I love them!

Special thanks to TY Martin and the cast of "The Color of My Skin" for making this an unforgettable experience ... and to my family and friends for being there for me when I needed them most!

... to be continued (because I'm having way to much fun to stop now!)

God bless!
Becky Taylor

2-23-2011

Bold New Day! Personal Development Coaching for Women

Follow Your Passion! Pursue Your Purpose!

Become the Person You Know You Were Born to Be!

http://www.boldnewday.com

Irons in the Fire

2010 is almost over (insert happy dance)

Yes, it's awful that I've felt this way about the last two years, but 2009 and 2010 proved themselves to be overall disappointments.

I'm putting my foot down! This trend must change in 2011. To ensure the upward shift, I've already begun laying the foundation.

So far,so good! 2011 is shaping up to be exciting (this time in a good way)

My writing class is going very well! The instructor has given me raving reviews, and requested no edits at all on the assignments I've turned in thus far. I enrolled in the class not only to learn, but to get objective feedback on my work. I hoped it would boost my confidence as I write my book (the one I've not added a word to in months now.) Things are working out nicely. I'm beginning to feel once again that I can do this! I can publish a book that people will want to buy, and gain inspiration from.

Which brings me to the next iron in the fire.

A representative from "Lifetime" television called about a month ago and asked if I was interested in appearing on one of their morning shows. Umm .. YES!

Of course there's a catch. They would prefer I have my book finished and published before we take the process any farther. This is also a good thing. It provides me with yet another much needed "nudge" toward finishing the book ASAP!

The book, in addition to an appearance on "Lifetime" will undoubtedly give my coaching business a major boost, hopefully thrusting it all the way to fame. Then, I'll be able to help more women succeed than I ever imagined before.

Oh, and while flying by the seat of my pants (as I sometimes love to do)I've also managed to land a leading role in the upcoming stage production of TY Martin's "The Color of My Skin" It's a story about racism. My character is a rich racist white woman. My oldest daughter got a kick out of that. She said the role couldn't be farther from the person I really am. Well, that's not completely true. I'm definitely not racist ... but I'm certainly both rich and white (smile) All I have to do to fit my character otherwise is act racist. If I couldn't act, I wouldn't have gotten the part, right?

So, as the lights go down on the year 2010, I see more than a glimmer of hope for the New Year. This new sense of excitement is very much needed and welcomed!

It's a wrap, 2010! In the words of one of my childhood cartoon friends,Sylvester the cat, "Exit, stage left!"

Cue the orchestra! It's almost time for 2011 to appear, and baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet!

Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com

Follow Your Passion! Pursue Your Purpose!

Become the Person You Know You Were Born to Be!

Coach Becky J. Taylor specializes in Personal Development Coaching for Women, based on Christian principles. She is available for personal coaching, group coaching, face to face or phone coaching sessions, speaking engagements, women’s events, and workshops. http://www.boldnewday.com

Bye-Bye Pearly Whites!

For the last several years I've been trying to focus on what decent physical attributes I have left rather than pay too much attention to those that have gone away.

Frankly, I am running out of choices.

My body betrayed me this past year by packing on nearly 20 lbs in additional weight.

The wrinkles on my face and bags under my eyes which I'd managed to "hold at bay" (more or less) suddenly called for a back up of enemy forces and launched a full fledged attack. I'm so outnumbered, I've been forced to retreat.

I've also had to start wearing reading glasses all the time ... another slap to my already slipping self image.

I should also mention that every body part that could possibly hurt, has begun to do just that. My joints are playing tag, taking turns in deciding as which one is going to scream in pain next.

Well, at least I can still smile, right?

WRONG!

An innocent dental visit for a routine cleaning and exam has eliminated that now too. The dentist told me I have a moderate degree of periodontal disease. That means my teeth are likely to fall out (literally) sometime in the not too distant future unless we do something to stop it now. The bones that are meant to hold my teeth in place are deteriorating rapidly. We must intervene before it reaches the point of no-return.

It's a genetic thing. I take good care of my teeth. I brush and floss just like I'm suppose to. (Actually, I got "scolded" for "over-brushing". I guess there's a first for everything.)

Of all the things about myself I've become disgruntled with, I've continued to like my smile. I like laughing. I like making other people laugh. I appreciate when people compliment me on my nice white teeth. It makes me smile even more. The more I smile, the better I feel.

It was nice while it lasted!

Let it be recorded on this date, Sept. 14, 2010. One month and one day after my fiftieth birthday, I am officially falling apart.

We started phase one of my dental treatment yesterday. It consisted of numbing my gums until I couldn't feel anything from my eyeballs to my collar bone, then digging into the "gum pockets" around each of my teeth and scraping the roots with a sharp, pointy metal instrument.

Yes, it was every bit as much fun as it sounds like it would be.

Afterwards, I was given a prescription for an antibiotic mouth wash which I was informed will turn my teeth BROWN. All the hard work I've put into keeping my smile shining white has been for naught. I still got periodontal disease and I'm going to have brown teeth (at least for a while.)They will be cleaning and polishing my teeth next month, so I'm hoping that means my smile will not be permanently dis-colored.

Oh, and we're going to set up a "treatment plan" to further pursue the periodontal issue. Translated, I'm fairly certain this is going to end up costing me a fortune! For what they charged for the two previous procedures alone, I could've had a mini-face lift.

For what it will likely end up costing overall, I could probably get a tummy-tuck, liposuction, a face lift and a nice long tropical vacation complete with a bikini to show off my new body.

But no. Instead I get dental work that won't improve my appearance, but rather make it worse for a while.

I can't help but wonder if it wouldn't be better to go ahead and spend the money on all the other stuff ... the things I'd actually like to get done, and let nature take its course with my teeth. Afterwards, I could always get dentures, and I'd look good in the process.

It can't hurt to ask! I'm going to suggest we throw that option into my "treatment plan." I'll be sure and let you know how that works for me!



Becky Taylor
Sept. 14,2010

http://www.boldnewday.com

The Best Laid Plans of Mice ... and Fifty Year Old Women

Summer of 2010 has come to an end.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry about that fact. I suppose someday in the (very distant) future, I may look back and laugh but at the moment I am leaning toward the latter choice. Summer 2010 was, for the most part, what my son would refer to as an "epic fail"

I had huge plans and high hopes for Summer 2010. Had I not been so excited about it, I would not have been so disappointed of course. The season was nothing ... nothing like I'd imagined or planned for it to be.

As the old saying goes, "The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry" The summer of 2010 was most definitely "awry!"

A few un-awry (is that even a word?) things did happen and are worthy of mention...

My sixth grandchild, James Daniel was born August 20th. That's a very good thing, right?

My son stayed out of trouble. Don't think for one minute that I didn't notice or appreciate that!

Hold on, I'm trying to think of a few more positive points.

I would say I "made it" to fifty, but that would only remind me of the epic failure the whole occasion proved to be. Ugh! I definitely hope to forget that one!

I suppose the best thing I can do is close the chapter that was the Summer of 2010 and move on to the next ... Fall. Fall will be much better than was summer. I'm pretty sure of that. This time I will not be disappointed.

Why?

Because this time I've made no plans at all!

Becky Taylor
9-8-2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com

Isn't it Ironic?

My 50th birthday has come and gone.

"50th birthday?"

Funny you should ask, because if it hadn't been my own birthday I probably wouldn't have noticed either. You'd think after all the blatant hinting I've done (ie: my "Pushing Fifty" blog that's been running for the last two years) someone might have planned something to acknowledge the milestone.

But no.

I'd already made the necessary adjustments, knowing there'd be no family trip to Mexico. I'd made peace with the unfortunate timing of our lack of finances. I knew that neither David Tutera or Wendy Williams would be coming to my rescue. I was, however, naive enough to think there'd still be some kind of fun surprise awaiting me on Friday, August 13th.

There was indeed one very big surprise, that being the fact there was NO birthday celebration planned at all, much less a "50th" birthday celebration.

My husband (bless his heart) decided at the last minute to invite another couple to go to dinner with us but they weren't available. Late Friday afternoon he informed me that his "plans" had fallen through. Our friends couldn't go out with us after all, so he wanted to know if I'd like him to call another couple and invite them to meet us somewhere for dinner instead.

I was so stunned, I wondered if he were tricking me somehow. I know him too well though. He's not that good at pulling off such stunts.

I'm not ashamed to admit I freaked out when the reality set in.

Not only was I not having a fabulous 50th birthday bash, we weren't doing anything at all. NOT A THING!

I told him to forget dinner altogether, I wasn't hungry. He didn't understand why we couldn't go out to eat anyway "just because no one was available" to go with us.

Either I am a very poor communicator or he is a very poor listener because I thought I'd made myself very clear. It's almost embarrassing to talk about the anticlimactic ending to the day I'd been raving about for months.

In fairness, all was not lost as far as the basic "birthday" goes. I got several great phone calls that day from my family and a couple friends. My facebook page was over-run with birthday wishes. Walt also bought me a new "Flip" camera which I'd asked for. He gave it to me a day ahead of time. Silly me! I thought he was giving it to me early so I'd have it to take pictures at my party. You know ... the party that never happened!

No big dinner with all our friends. None of those hideous black balloons or "over the hill" jokes. No funny cards jaunting me about my age, and there are definitely no pictures to record the non-event.

It was just another birthday...only with less pomp and circumstance than I've been treated with on my other birthdays.

In retrospect, my life has become quite ironic in that way. The winds of fate have shifted and suddenly nothing goes as I expect anymore.

Whatever. It is what it is. Life goes on. (Insert any other appropriate cliche' here)

Happy Belated 50th Birthday to me!

Book It, Dan-O!

I don't usually talk about the book I'm attempting to write here on this "fun" blog, however, the lines between "fun" and "serious" have been very blurred lately. Even my newly purchased reading glasses have failed to remedy the situation. Hopefully that is only temporary and things will clear up soon. (Everything in life is temporary, right?)

I started writing a book a few months back. From what I've heard, books take a while to write so a "few months" isn't really all that long. The problem is, I haven't written a single word in weeks. My inspiration disappeared somewhere in the haze of issues the summer of 2010 has presented.

The central theme of my life right now is I NEED TO GET AWAY!

Being as ADD as I am, I can't hold on to a thought much less string several thoughts together long enough to finish a book (shoot! Make that a chapter) when I'm constantly being interrupted by the barking dog, the ding-ing washing machine, and legal notices from an annoying ex who, for reasons I may never understand, took it upon himself to put the last nail in my Summer 2010 coffin.

I need to go somewhere quiet and inspirational. Somewhere I can go to bed when I want, sleep as long as I want, and write as long as the thoughts keep flowing. Someplace the phone doesn't ring and no teenagers need a ride to the mall immediately!

I also need to go someplace fun and exciting ... or at least where I have the "fun and exciting" option available to me. I need an ocean breeze and the sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline. I need to go horseback riding,zip-lining, and yachting ... and spend hours on end just staring at the ocean if that's what I want!I need someone to cook my meals and make my bed for me while I'm busy doing all of the above.

I also need these two scenarios NOT to take place at the same time.

Ideally, I would throw my things in a bag and leave TOMORROW, then spend the next couple weeks working on my book, the deadline being my fiftieth birthday (which is FRIDAY AUGUST 13th in case I've not mentioned it lately)

In a perfect world, I'd put the finishing touches on my masterpiece on Thursday, August 12th, then smile as I close the computer and sit back and celebrate by watching the sun go down over Banderas bay.

Ahh! Lovely thought, isn't it?

On Friday August 13th, I'd wake up with the sunrise (or by noon - whatever!) and flip the "I finished my book AND turned fifty" party switch! The festivities would begin ... and not stop until I say so (because it's MY PARTY!)

And when I do decide the party's over, I'll move on to the next phase of my life. The "latter" years, which I am determined to make better than the first fifty.

It's a pretty tall order. You don't have to tell me, I already know.

Given my current frame of mind, I might just DO IT! Book the darn retreat and get on the plane. Miss the pesky court date (without bothering to tell anyone ... so they'll show up anyway *snicker*) and go away for a while.

Don't worry, I'll come back with my newly finished book ready to go to the publisher and a whole new attitude and outlook on life.

And that's something we would all benefit from right now, isn't it?



Becky Taylor
August 1, 2010

http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

Somebody Burned My Bridge!

I have a secret.

I've battled depression most of my life. When I say "battled" I mean I've fought tooth and nail on a daily basis to cling to a certain degree of joy.

Of course I've been more successful in some seasons than in others.

In the process of maintaining happiness, I've developed different coping skills. One of my favorites is something I refer to as "building bridges." Whenever I feel overwhelmed or know there's something unpleasant on the horizon, I mentally build a bridge which leads to the next foreseeable "positive" event. I focus on that instead of the sadness or fear that's currently threatening me and move toward it instead of wallowing in the present.

This approach is different than "denial" (although sometimes denial can be a wonderful thing)as I do address and deal with the negative situations in my life. I just focus ahead on better things to come and that helps me get through.

For the last couple years I've been gearing myself up for my fiftieth birthday. I started planning my big, no ... make that HUGE celebration, almost as soon as I realized there would be no stopping the big 5-0.

I'm just being honest. It isn't so much that I'm thrilled about being fifty and want the world to stop and acknowledge my big day by throwing me a party. It's more because I'm dreading joining the ranks of the women who've left their forties (and their "prime" according to popular belief) behind.

So in my attempt to cope, I decided to build one of my trusty bridges over my birthday. I figured a big party would do the trick. Something I could truly enjoy that would provide a distraction from the fact I'm turning fifty.

I suppose that rather than saying I've been "planning" my birthday party, I should say I started making my wishes known to those people who would be in charge of making the arrangements. Who, after all, wants to plan their own birthday celebration?

I've had a pretty good run, if I do say so myself. Looking forward to my birthday party ... what I thought would surely be the biggest celebration of my lifetime, has gotten me through for almost two years now. I've envisioned myself opening the Wendy Williams show in NYC, then jetting off to Puerto Vallarta to sit on the sand, basking in the sunshine over Banderas Bay for a week. After that, I'd fly home hopefully in time to welcome my sixth grandchild into the world.

Given the possibility that all goes well, before I know it we'll be well into September and my birthday will be long passed. I'll have nothing but beautiful memories of the exciting events of the summer of 2010.

Oh, and I'll be fifty years old.

I've got to say, this is one of the best "bridges" I've ever constructed!

So you might imagine my dismay now that I've come to realize someone has gone and burned my bridge!

What a dastardly deed!

With less than three weeks to go, it's too late to start re-building now. Part of me wants to believe there may still be the celebration I've been dreaming of. Elves perhaps, may step in and re-build my bridge while I'm sleeping.

In my world there's always room for miracles.

But realistically, I understand that's probably just not going to be the case. The bridge is gone, blasted away by lack of finances and other annoyances commonly associated with the real world.

What a downer! What lousy timing!

As always is the case, I will adjust and move on toward some glimmer of light in the distance. Worse things than turning fifty could happen to a girl. I could not be having another birthday at all.

Yes, it could be worse. I apologize for all the whining.

It's just that I worked so hard on this particular bridge. It hurts to see it lying in rubble.

Becky Taylor
July 27, 2010

http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

A-Weigh We Go!

I realize I am beginning to sound very "fifty-ish" in my recent blog posts. I can't help it! My concerns during recent months have been mostly about finances, sleepless nights and weight gain!

I'm happy to report some progress in regard to my weight! I found a website that has so un-complicated things, I can't believe how easily I've begun to lose weight. I started the diet (although I can't even honestly call it a diet)less than a week ago and my shorts are already beginning to feel loose.

The website is http://www.caloriecount.about.com

It's approach is exactly as the name implies. I joined for FREE, then set up my profile with information like how much weight I want to lose (20 lbs) and when I want it all to be gone.

Each day I keep a log of what I've had to eat and enter it onto the site. Voila'! It calculates how many calories, and other nutritional information my food intake contains. Also, based on my answers to some questions it prompted me to answer, it tells me how many calories I am taking in versus how many calories I am burning each day.

But wait! There's more!

There's also a place to log activities, not just exercise but every day household activities like putting away laundry and even bathing, and calculates how many calories I've burned.

After all this time I've been fretting over trying to drop a few pounds, attempting to exercise, cut back on sweets, etc. Who would've thought success could be so simple as watching my calories every day.

Did I mention I've not been hungry even once since I started? Well, I haven't! That's the beauty of it. Because I'm conscious of my calorie intake, I keep track of it all day long and pace myself accordingly. So far I am averaging less than 1400 calories a day. YAY!

Oh yeah! I'm pumped! I may be back in one of those cute little bathing suits by my birthday after all.

I guess I should also mention that the site did burst my bubble a little by telling me I couldn't possibly lose 20lbs by August 13th. It suggested that mid September might be a more realistic goal. Oh well. We'll see how that goes. Even if I've only lost 10 lbs by my birthday I'll be ecstatic.

So here I go! Success at last. I'm losing weight the old fashioned way and I like it!

Becky J. Taylor
July 16, 2010

http://www.beckyjtaylor.com

Where's David Tutera When You Need Him?

Mr. Taylor seems to be having some difficulty coming up with a good plan for my birthday. Apparently he got the memo that this particular birthday is very important to me and has been scrambling accordingly.

I'm a little nervous.

A couple years ago, I told him exactly what I wanted to do to usher in the big 5-Oh! I wanted a beach in Mexico with my kids and grandkids for a week (or more if possible), highlighted with a major party to celebrate the impending BEST years of my life!

Well, life happens while you're making other plans, right?

Little did I know that my daughter, Angel would be in her last week or so of pregnancy when the date arrives. So much for having my kids and grandkids in Mexico with me at that time.

It also throws a wrench in my plans because I'm not all too sure I want to be out of the country when my sixth grandchild arrives. I've been by both my daughter's sides when they delivered the first five grand babies and well, I'm just not convinced they could do it without me.

Throw in the fact that our finances have drastically changed since I first voiced my preference for my 50th birthday party and honey, we have ourselves a situation.

I don't know what to do, but I do know I'm going to be terribly disappointed if Friday August 13th arrives and passes without something major being done to recognize the date.

I'm not usually a very selfish kind of person, but this is different. This calls for serious intervention from an expert.

Where's David Tutera when you need him?

David Tutera is a famous party-planner and has a hit t.v. show, "My Fair Wedding". Every week on t.v., I admire him as he appears to brides in distress and re-plans their weddings a mere three weeks from the big day. I love how he makes dreams come true for all those "Queen for a day" wannabees... like me, only I'm not getting married. I'm just turning 50!

If I could design the perfect birthday celebration (without regard to questionable finances and the potential arrival of a new grand-child)it would begin with me opening the Friday the 13th "Wendy Williams" show in NYC. Friday's episodes are taped on Thursday afternoon so I could easily open her show, then fly to Mexico in time for my actual birthday.

My not currently pregnant daughter, Emily and her family would fly with me and Mr. Taylor, both to the Wendy Williams taping and on to Mexico.

Once in Mexico, we'd check into an exclusive resort. I found a great one for about $600 USD/day. If memory serves me correctly, that price includes room/food/daily massages, etc. for at least eight people so that's only about $75 USD/day.

There, we would enjoy at least a week of endless sunshine, zip-lining, dinner at "Rhythms of the Night", horsback riding, food and whatever other festivities strike my fifty year old fancy.

Does that sound like a fantastic plan or what?

This all started yesterday when I caught myself feeling a little down about the possibility of not celebrating my 50th birthday in great style. I'd been trying to convince myself that party, or no party, it really didn't matter all that much to me.

It does matter! Such a celebration only comes around once in a lifetime. It needs to be perfect.

*sigh*

I wish David Tutera had a show called, "My Fabulous Big Five-Oh!" I'd be calling him to my rescue right now.

Oh David! HELP! I need help making my birthday party dreams come true!



Becky Taylor
July 11, 2010

http://www.boldnewday.com

http://www.beckyjtaylor.com

The Procrastinator

I don't know why, but I've put off mailing in my papers requesting an increase in funds from the ex,to the


Child Support Enforcement Agency.

I filled them out almost a month ago, and noticed at that time the return envelope they provided seemed way to small for the stack of papers I'd been asked to complete and return. I also wanted to write a short note to the case worker explaining a couple items on the forms.

For those two very small reasons, I put the papers back on my "to do" list and didn't get them back out until this morning.

In my own self defense, I should add that the hearing concerning my case won't be held until June 28, which is also the date the papers are due in. I found that a little odd. It took the Child Support Enforcement Agency four weeks to get the papers to me after I first requested them. After that, they gave me (and the ex) six weeks to fill them out and send them back in.

Once they finish reviewing the information and determine if there will be a change in support, it will be another four weeks before the changes take effect.

I did the math .. By the time this is over, I will have waited fourteen weeks for the increase I requested (if they decide I qualify) yet from what I can tell, they will have spent about 20 minutes total plugging in my numbers vs. the ex's numbers to come up with a decision.

Whew!

No wonder I put it off. It probably took me almost that long just to cram all those papers into the envelope!

I'm trusting all my efforts will pay off and I'll be rewarded with some financial help from Adam's father. I have a stack of medical bills from the kid's hospitalization and numerous E.R. visits last year, none of which I've had any assistance with from the ex.

I can only hope ... and pray I manage to walk these papers out to the mailbox sometime within the next week!

Becky Taylor
6-16-2010
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com

Stupid Questions and Fashion Statements

The more I think about my experience at the spinal specialist yesterday, the more aspects of it I find perplexing.

At this particular moment, I am feeling perplexed about my experience with the x-ray department.

Apparently those lovely gowns doctors offices use to provide are no longer humiliating enough for their patients. The girl who took me to the exam room handed me a pair of paper shorts instead, and explained that I was suppose to remove my jeans and put them on in preparation for my x-rays.

I guess the "shorts" could be better described as "bloomers" as they were very baggy and elasticized around the waist and legs. They were a lovely shade of "medical blue", a color which clashed terribly with the blouse I was wearing. They were also very loose around my waist. In retrospect, I suppose that is further proof that they add ten pounds to every patient's reported weight to make up for the fudge factor they assume is involved. (Again ... my bad!)

After the girl left, I obediently removed my jeans, slipped into the ugly shorts/bloomers, and sat down on the exam table to wait. The sight of my pasty legs dangling from the edge of the table was a brutal reminder of my desperate need of some sunshine, and only added to my embarrassment concerning the whole situation.

Soon, a young man (of course they would have to send a young man) came to escort me to the x-ray department which naturally involved walking down a very long corridor, me praying I wouldn't bump into anyone I knew while holding tightly onto the waistband of the bloomers in hopes of preventing them from dropping to my ankles en-route.

Noticing my attachment to the shorts, the young man jokingly informed me I could take them home with me if I wanted. (Uh... like that was going to happen.)

Finally, we rounded the corner and entered the x-ray room where I was greeted by the sweet young female x-ray technician. At that point I'd been at the office for about thirty minutes and had met at least five employees, all of whom were probably younger than my oldest child.

The sweet x-ray technician smiled, said hello, and then asked me if there was any possibility I could be pregnant.

Could I be what?

I had to laugh.

I also had to wonder at what age they stop asking women that question. I mean, really!

I know there are women in this world who have children very late in life, but they usually go to extreme measures to become pregnant. In fact,I've never personally heard of any women my age who got pregnant the "old fashioned way"

Taking that into consideration, I have to believe if a late forties or early fifty-ish woman did walk into the x-ray department pregnant, she would probably be so proud of her pregnancy, she'd be sporting a maternity top with the words "Yes, I AM!" plastered all over it.

So, I guess next time I go for an x-ray I'll wear a shirt that a) co-ordinates nicely with "medical blue" and b) has the words NO! I AM NOT! printed on the front of it.

Perhaps the x-ray technician was simply giving me the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she hadn't looked at the age listed on my chart and thought, based on my appearance, there was a remote possibility I might be young enough to be with child.

Or maybe it was because of those incredibly sexy shorts I was wearing. For all I know, they might actually have been a very good "look" for me.(The young man who escorted me down the hall did seem to think I might want to take them home, remember?) Could it be they actually made me appear much younger, vibrant ... and fertile?

Nah, I guess not. I'll just have to add "stupid questions" and "embarrassing fashion statements" to the ever growing list of medical mysteries I'll never understand.



5/28/10
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

Liar! Liar!

... well, my pants are definitely not on fire!

When I went to the Emergency Room last week, they did not weigh me. Instead, they asked me how much I weighed.

And I told them the truth.

It happened again this morning. I was asked the same question at my follow up appointment with the spinal specialist.

Just like last week in the E.R., I did not lie.

I should also mention that when I got my drivers license renewed I reported my actual weight to them too.

(Do we not pay these people enough money to buy their own scales, or what?)

I realize I've done myself a great injustice here, especially having learned from my medical background that people almost always fudge the numbers on these sorts of things. I've not done any intensive research, but my guess would be that most report their weight to be at least ten pounds less than it really is.

Now,thanks to my "zero tolerance" honesty policy, the people at the hospital, the spinal specialist, and the license bureau all probably assume I weigh ten pounds more than I actually do.

What was I thinking?

As far as the Emergency Room is concerned, I was practically delirious with pain there so that's a fair explanation for spewing out an accurate number. On the other hand, I have absolutely no excuse for being so truthful with the license bureau and the doctor's office.

My regular doctor either makes more money, or is wiser than the others. He has a scale of his own so he doesn't rely on his patients to tell him how much they weigh. (He probably figured out that most people are liars long ago.)

It makes me feel slightly better to remember that the last time I weighed this much (as indicated by my regular doctor's scales)I was immediately told that I definitely didn't look "that heavy".

(I'm fairly certain the medical assistant who made that comment meant it as a compliment.)

A few moments later, I mentioned my weight to my doctor (since he didn't bring it up) and he assured me I was "fine".

Maybe that's why I felt so secure in reporting my real weight to all those other people.

I'm fine. My weight is fine. (Someone should write a book with that title!)

Obviously I was not totally traumatized by the experience. After all that, I still had a chili cheese dog for dinner this evening.

But one thing's for certain, no matter if I gain even more weight before I see the scale-free medical people again, I'm giving them the same number I gave them last time.

And if I manage to lose a few pounds, I am going to tell them I weigh ten less pounds than the actual number really is. I owe it to myself for being so honest with them all these years!

Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

Flavor

I was indulging in my daily "guilty pleasure" this morning, (which happens to be watching the Wendy Williams show). Tia and Tamara,the twins from the old sitcom "Sister Sister" were her guests.

During their interview, Wendy mentioned that Tia and Tamara are actually of mixed race, their mother being Bohemian. They said that's where they get their flavor.

I don't recall ever hearing the word "flavor" used in that sense, but I really do like the sound of it.

I also feel a bit slighted because I now realize I don't have "flavor". What a slap in the face that is to my already waning sense of self esteem.

I've always been pretty much a wall-flower. Sure, I clean up ok, but overall I'm just your average American female ... and now a middle-aged one at that!

My father's family came from Germany and my mother's family is from England (yawn). My maternal great-great grandmother was a Native American, but the two or three drops of Native American blood that possibly could have filtered down to me, isn't enough to give me any flavor.

I feel like plain vanilla ice cream on the Baskin-Robbins menu of life. Who in their right mind is going to give vanilla ice cream a second thought when there are options available such as mint chocolate chip, rocky road, and even cotton candy!

(Well, actually I usually order the plain vanilla but that just further proves my point.)

When God was passing out flavor, why didn't He give me some? Surely there's enough to go around.

There's nothing I can do about it now. For all I know, He might have offered me a dash of flavor before He sent me to earth, and I declined.

"No thanks, I'd rather just be boring."

He probably just caught me on an "off" day, or maybe I was distracted.

Whatever the case, I wish He'd ask me again because daggone it, now I wish I had some flavor!

Becky J. Taylor
May 20, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

Time Out!

I swear, I had every intention of blogging on May 13th, which was the beginning of the three month countdown to my fiftieth birthday.

But I got busy and forgot to do it. Maybe that had something to do with me getting older. Who knows? Or for that matter, who cares? The truth is, I'm finding myself blaming a lot more on my age these last few months.

I started "Pushing Fifty" (both the blog and the emotional ordeal) a couple years ago. In the beginning,the blog was intended to be an entirely light-hearted account of my journey to the big Five-Oh!

I'm not one of those women who has ever worried about getting older. "I am what I am" has always been my motto.

"Love me or leave me"

"Age is just a number."

All the usual cliches have applied.

That was then, this is now! The closer I get to August 13, 2010, the more impact the fact the "number" of my next "age" is going to be FIFTY, is having on me.

This use to be much easier to ignore. Call me the Queen of Denial. My body, mind, and spirit made a pact that as long as "we" agreed I was not going to let my birthday have any adverse affects on me, the date would only serve as an excuse to throw caution to the wind, run off to Mexico and have a huge, week long celebration! Friday, August Thirteenth, 2010 aka my fiftieth birthday would be a day worthy of great acknowledgment. No more, no less.

Then, my body decided to rebel. It started packing on pounds, entirely of it's own accord. No permission granted (no permission asked, for that matter)

My face suddenly started catching up on all the wrinkles it had refused to take on in the past. WHAM! One night the wrinkle fairy crept into my room and slapped me with the wrinkle stick ... twice, at least!

It has apparently become the goal of my physical self to LOOK fifty by the time my birthday rolls around.

Never in the history of ME have I ever looked my age!

I would have killed to look my age back when I was a teenager. I felt that way well into my twenties. I didn't like being mistaken for a youngster then.

By the time I hit my thirties and forties, I began to enjoy looking younger than my age. I accepted that it was a blessing, not a curse, to be mistaken for a younger woman than I truly was.

And now? Well now I am really missing that about me.

I look in the mirror, or at recent photographs of myself and wonder "Who is that older woman?"

I am calling a "time out" on this whole pushing fifty thing. I need a break, a chance to regroup and come up with a new strategy. Mexico, or some exotic getaway, is definitely still in the plan, but the rest of this stuff ... not so much!

I need to catch my breath! (and lose twenty pounds)

I need a face lift! (like ... yesterday!)

I need lots of other things, including some heavy meds and possibly a private investigator to search for loopholes in my birth certificate.

I don't want to be fifty, but even more than that I don't want to look or feel my age!


May 18, 2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

Me, Myself, and Becky Taylor

Today started out in a rather unusual way.

Admittedly, the way life's been behaving lately, it's gotten difficult to distinguish between usual and unusual.

But this morning was "unusual" in a happily amusing sort of way. I got a text from my daughter Angel in Ohio almost as soon as I woke up. She said my four year old grandson, Jayden had called to her from the living room, saying "Mamaw Becky" was on t.v. Angel checked the screen and saw there was a Sylvan Learning Center ad airing which featured a woman whose name was displayed in the lower corner of the screen.

The name was "Becky Taylor"

How odd! Jayden thought his Mamaw Becky was on t.v. and the woman he'd mistaken to be me just happened to have the same name.

Of course, Jayden is only four years old and can't read yet. That would seem to eliminate the possibility he'd simply recognized the lady's name.

I thought about it and recalled seeing the same ad several months ago. I wouldn't have remembered it except for the fact that I'd noticed Becky Taylor and I shared the same name.

End of story, right?

After giving it more thought, I considered the possibility that the other Becky Taylor and I might also share similar coloring, etc, therefore making it possible that Jayden had the two of us confused as one and the same.

The name thing? Well, that part was surely a very funny coincidence!

If you've followed me very long at all, you'll know I can't let these things rest that easily. I had to investigate.

A quick "google" search revealed a photo of the other Becky, lending evidence to my theory that our similar hair and skin color had confused my grandson.

My attempts to find the Sylvan commercial online were not quite as successful. That came as a real disappointment because I really needed to figure out if the name "Becky Taylor" had been spoken at any time during the ad.

My curiosity was beginning to get the best of me, so I did what came most naturally.

I looked up the other Becky Taylor on facebook (yes, I found her there) and sent her a message explaining the situation to her.

Becky Taylor seemed to get as much of a kick out of the story as I, and verified for me that her name is not mentioned verbally in the ad at all. The only reference to "Becky Taylor" is the one printed on the screen.

Now, let's take a "logical" look at the facts, shall we?

What are the chances of there being more than one Becky Taylor in the United States?

"Becky" is a very common name, and so is "Taylor" ... so do the math. There are hundreds, if not thousands of us. Nothing remarkable to report on that aspect of the story.

The likelihood of any two of those Becky Taylors bearing similar physical traits?

Well, America is the proverbial "melting pot" of the world, so again, nah! No big surprise there either.

The possibility of a four year old boy living in southern Ohio, seeing someone on a t.v. commercial and mistaking her for his "Mamaw Becky" who lives in Georgia?

Still no big shock factor there. (YAWN)

BUT, a four year old boy in southern Ohio spotting a woman on t.v. whom he believes to be his "Mamaw Becky" and it turns out the woman on t.v. and his Mamaw Becky actually share the same name?

That's a bit more difficult to explain away.

Becky Taylor (of Sylvan Learning Centers fame) thinks Jayden recognized the name, and in conjunction with the other similarities, came to the conclusion that he was seeing his "Mamaw Becky" on television.

My daughter was hesitant to accept that possibility, until I reminded her that Jayden had likely seen my name written on the Mothers Day card she'd recently mailed to me. After a short period of convincing argument on my end, Angel finally agreed (or at least decided to humor me) to consider that possibility.

Long story short ...

It is a small world after all.

Reality is truly stranger than fiction.

My four year old grandson is most likely a genius (just like my other four grandchildren happen to be)

...and I have a new friend. Her name is Becky Taylor, just like me!

5/11/2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com

Mid-life Cry-sis

I've been really, really, really good about watching what I've been eating for a week now. That might not seem like such a big deal to you, but to me is is huge! HUGE like the size of my midsection these days. They don't call it the "middle age spread" for nothing, folks!

As I was saying, I decided a couple weeks ago that I would start eating better and trying to lose weight as soon as we got back from the family reunion and our trip to Savannah. I even cut my Diet Pepsi down to almost nothing because I heard the aspartame was bad for me.

Sure enough, I lost two pounds almost immediately.

Unfortunately, they were the same two pounds I'd picked up during our four days away, so I doubt it was "real" weight to begin with. Most likely it was only water.

Since then, I've stayed steady at about fifteen pounds over what I would weigh in a more perfect world. Ten pounds over the weight I'd almost kill for right now.

Meanwhile, I am hungry for the food I use to be able to eat without worrying about increasing my girth. I've never had horrible eating habits and I've never had to worry much about my weight.

Call me naive but I somehow thought the mid-life rules would not apply to me. I've always believed I'd welcome these years with outstretched arms. It's suppose to be liberating, right?

Excuse me while I double over in laughter at my own innocence.

It turns out that mid-life is a cruel prankster.

Too bad for me, I hate pranks ... and I'm hating mid-life so far.

Not only do I hate the extra weight that has firmly attached itself to my belly, I also hate the wrinkles on my face and neck. I hate the flab that waves in the breezes from the underside of my upper arms. I hate the sleepless nights.

I hate looking my age for the first time in my life!

If this is what being fifty is all about, I've changed my mind! I demand a re-count, or better yet a do-over! Back me up about three years and leave me there, happy and oblivious at 47. Is that too much to ask? It isn't like I am demanding to be twenty one all over again, I just want to be like I use to be a few short years ago.

So, stop the ride, I want to get off.

I don't want to be FIFTY!

I don't want to be old, tired, fat, moody and sweaty. Those things are just soooo NOT me. Give me my life back please.

Oh ... and you might want to give it back NOW, so nobody gets hurt!

Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women

http://www.beckyjtaylor.com

Headaches are of the Devil!

It's a beautiful morning in North Georgia; the kind of day that makes a girl want to get outside and kick up her heels in celebration of the sunshine! SPRING has sprung in our neck of the woods for sure!

Too bad I have a horrible allergy headache that's making me want to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head.

I'm no expert on these things, but I'm pretty sure headaches are of the Devil himself. How else would something that is otherwise non-life threatening cause so much pain and inconvenience? Besides the conflicting desire to get outside and enjoy the nice weather, I also have a ton of work to get done inside. There are phone calls to be returned, paperwork to finish, two articles and a book that need to be written ... and of course I can't forget "Mount Laundry" which I have to conquer before the weekend is through. Nothing on my list can be done in a satisfactory manner as long as my head is pounding away.

Oh, and I can't forget the matter of my foggy brain and puffy, itching, watering eyes. I look like I took the business end of someones fist in my face. Even if I was able to get out of the house, I'd want to wear a veil.

All is not lost! I've managed to get the least taxing of my duties taken care of this morning ... two phone calls and some housework.

I know, I know, I'm not impressed either. I just thought it was worth a shot ...

It's only noon. I've got the whole weekend ahead of me. Good drugs and nice nap may work wonders.

Headaches are of the Devil, but my nice soft bed is absolutely heavenly at times like this. The way I see it (through the aforementioned itchy, watery eyes) I don't have a choice but to get some rest and try again later. Take that, Devil! Good wins over evil every time!

April 9, 2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
http://www.boldnewday.com

My First Age Spot

The darkened, slightly rough patch of skin cropped up on my right wrist a few months ago. At first glance, I figured it was a previously unnoticed scrape that was in the beginning stages of healing. On further inspection I noticed it was not that at all.

It's apparently an age spot. My first one!

How appropriate that it would arrive a few months before my fiftieth birthday. I am actually a bit ahead of the game in hitting my middle-age milestones as I don't think I'm really quite old enough to develop age spots yet.

Not that anyone would notice. The spot isn't quite as big as a pencil eraser, yet now that I've seen it, it draws my attention like a magnet every time my right arm moves anywhere within my line of vision.

It really isn't that bad. What concerns me is the question, "If I get an age spot at forty nine and a half years of age, what's next?"

I really wish that, in addition to the baby book my mother kept for me, she would have kept a book tracking her own milestones. A diary would have been nice, at the least, especially since my mother also had a teenager (me!) when she was going on fifty.

"Journal Entry, Sept. 3, 1976. Becky Jean started tenth grade today, and I got my first age spot."

How handy that would be! I could read ahead and know what to expect in the months to come.

It's too late for that now and I never would have dreamed I would desire such a resource anyway. As a teenager, I had no intention of ever getting old much less developing wrinkles and age spots!

Maybe this is the way it's suppose to be. Perhaps if I'd known about the age spot ahead of time, I would have stressed over it and expedited the arrival of the already impending "worry lines" on my forehead.

Time goes by, and if we are fortunate enough to survive the process, little inconveniences like age spots and wrinkles are inevitable. They aren't exactly sexy but I feel I've earned every one of them and I will consider them medals of honor to be worn proudly.

As I like to say, "It is what it is!" ... and this thing on my wrist definitely is my first doggone age spot!

March 25, 2010
Becky Taylor
Personal Development Coach for Women
Bold New Day! LLC
http://www.boldnewday.com

I Haven't Slept In Thirty-Two Years

March 23, 2010

I’ve been feeling exhausted for a while now and I think I understand why. Given the fact I gave birth to my oldest daughter when I was seventeen years old and have been raising kids ever since, perhaps I shouldn’t be so taken by surprise.

My firstborn will turn thirty-two years old next month, and I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept all night uninterrupted since I brought her home from the hospital.

Call me weird, but I actually like to sleep. Hence, I take issue with being plum tuckered out most of the time. One of the top items on my bucket list is to at some point of my life be able to go to sleep when I want and not wake up until I’m good and ready! As an almost fifty year old grandmother of five (soon to be six), is that really too much to ask?

Of course, it’s mostly my own fault. I likely sabotaged my aspiration of ever sleeping again by having my third child at the age of thirty-four. Not just any child mind you but I brought “the boy”, aka Adam David, into the world. By the time he was born, his next youngest sibling (who incidentally never closed her eyes from birth to about three years of age) was thirteen years old.

What in the world was I thinking? I was within a few years of being able to sleep at night for the first time since I was seventeen, and then I decided another baby would be a grand idea! By that time I felt like my life was fairly settled. I had a good job and was actually old enough (in retrospect, borderline too old) to have a child. Never the less, I believed it would be fun to experience raising a child as a mature adult, as opposed to having my other two babies when I was barely more than a baby myself.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Adam never slept. I remember carrying my wide eyed bundle of joy into the pediatrician’s office when he was about six months old and pleading for help. Adam was a breast fed baby who at that age insisted on nursing about every forty- five minutes all night long. I’d also gone back to work by then, and had to get up at 4:30 a.m. in order to be at my job by 6:30. The doctor listened sympathetically, and reassured me that the sleepless stage would pass.

When I refused to leave his office until he gave me a more encouraging, realistic answer, he finally suggested I slip the boy a little Benadryl just before bedtime for a few nights in a row in order to get him into the” habit” of sleeping.

With a new found sense of hope, I drove right to the store and picked up a bottle of what I believed would be the answer to my prayers.

It did help … a little, but my dream of being able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time was still not to be realized.

As far as I can tell, Adam still never sleeps (at least not at night) “The boy” is actually now a delightful fifteen year old young man (mind you, I’m probably using “delightful” to describe him, out of sleep deprivation- induced delirium.) He is a night owl, preferring to stay up most of the night and sleep during the daylight hours instead. Of course, this causes a certain problem where little things like, oh say SCHOOL is concerned.

And Benadryl no longer works.

I’d take the Benadryl myself if I weren’t hesitant to fall into a sound sleep for fear Adam would take advantage of my unconscious state and do something I’d regret. As it is, he keeps me on my toes when I am awake. I shudder to imagine what might happen if he thought I might actually sleep through one of his random impulsive acts of mischief.

Should I abandon all hope? Perhaps I would make it easier for myself if I just gave up the nonsensical notion of ever sleeping well in this lifetime.

Maybe.

At this stage of the game, I can only pray that when I get to Heaven, Saint Peter greets me with a pillow and a blanket and directs me straight to a big comfortable bed in a quiet corner, with instructions to simply sleep for a few thousand years. I believe that would be an apt reward for my years spent forfeiting sleep for the sake of raising my children (especially the boy) here on earth.

Becky Taylor

Bold New Day! Personal Development Coaching for Women

http://www.boldnewday.com

Suddenly EVERYONE is a Life Coach!

Maybe it's because I am an actual hardworking Certified Life Coach that I notice, but it seems to me everyone and his/her brother is calling their self a "Life Coach" these days. The moniker is smeared on posters, books, and in the credits that roll after t.v. talk shows.

It's tagged onto people's lists of titles like it's an after thought.

It makes me crazy!

I saw an ad for a new t.v. show featuring a "Life Coach" the other day. I couldn't tell for sure, but it appeared to be announcing some new sitcom. At best, it looked like the whole theme of the show is to poke fun at coaching. The ad showed a woman who apparently does nothing but smile, repeat cliche's and tell people what she thinks they should do ... all very sweetly, of course.

I'm sure it will make every person on the planet want to run right out and hire a bubble headed coach who's so totally detached from reality they think everything can be fixed with a pat answer and a motherly word of advice.

So your husband just left you for a younger woman? "Oh honey! Don't worry! There's plenty of fish in the sea. Here's a cookie and a glass of milk. That should make everything better! Now get out there and have a nice day!."

Next client!

Even worse, I noticed one popular t.v. personality, known best for their arrogant attitude and barking orders (and insults) at the people they work with has added "Life Coach" to their public resume!

What bothers me is that people are having a difficult enough time figuring out what a Life Coach is, without the"help" of all this mis-leading information.

It's giving real Life Coaches a bad name!

The truth is, just about anyone can call their self a Life Coach and get by with it but a real Life Coach isn't going to spit meaningless cliche's at you or tell you everything is going to be o.k. when they know darn well it isn't. They won't scream at you or scold you for any reason. They won't put you or your situation in a box with a million others. They'll be interested in helping you find a way to make your life what you want it to be.

"Life" is about growing personally. It's about discovering who you truly are and what you were put on this earth to do. Life is to be lived, not just tolerated, sugar coated, or ignored.

If you want to be screamed at, lied to, mis-informed or told what I think you should do ... Don't hire me as your coach, you'll be sorely disappointed!

Am I an optimistic person who will try to help you find the silver lining around your cloud?

Certainly!

But I also know that behind some clouds is a thunderstorm and all the happy thoughts in the world will not keep you from getting soaked! Sometimes the best you can hope for is to get through a situation intact. Sure, there's likely a lesson to be learned in every process, but it's not always a pleasant experience. I'll help you learn coping mechanisms, but I won't say things to make you feel guilty for being human and having a bad day once in a while.

I'd like to think any Life Coach worth their pay would do the same for their clients.

Life Coaching is a serious business. I really wish people would stop throwing the term around like it doesn't take any talent, skills or training to become a "Life Coach".

There! I said it! I feel better now and I shall put my soapbox away for the day.

Thank you for listening. My name is Becky Taylor and I am a Life Coach!

March 19, 2010
Bold New Day! Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com