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!
Showing posts with label menopause. Show all posts
Showing posts with label menopause. Show all posts
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
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
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
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thirty One? Are You Kidding Me?
According to some dim-witted report I heard on a news shows this morning, a woman is at her "most beautiful" at age thirty-one.
What the ....?
Is it just me, or is that not one of the craziest things you've ever heard?
Unless you happen to be a thirty-one year old woman, and even then you might find this report a bit disturbing ... depending on whether or not you're pleased with your appearance at this particular age. If you're not, well you might be thinking "Oh great! So this is as good as it gets! Pass the double chocolate chip ice cream please, I'm doomed!"
Then there are the rest of us who passed that so-called age of "perfection" without even realizing it.
I'm sorry, but I didn't need this kind of depressing information less than four weeks before my fiftieth birthday, (and nearly nineteen years after my thirty-first!)
What ever happened to "Fifty is the new thirty"? Even then, they were referring to a state of youth and not necessarily "beauty". (Didn't someone actually say that recently, or is that something I made up myself? We old, out of shape, way past our prime women tend to be delusional, after all.)
Seriously though. Where did the people who came up with that answer to the question, "At what age is a woman the most beautiful?" get their information, and why did it merit fifteen seconds of fame on the morning news?
For that matter, why did anyone feel the need to pin "most beautiful" to any particular age in the first place?
I protest and I believe all other non-thirty-one year old women should do the same. "Beauty" cannot be assigned an age at which it peaks. Shame on whomever it was who decided differently.
I'm fairly certain we haven't heard the last of this one, folks. Just wait until the "Dove Campaign for Real Beauty" people get their hands on this information! Surely they'll set some people straight on the matter.
In the mean time, here's to the truly beautiful people, no matter how old (or young) you may be.
Becky J. Taylor
July 19, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
What the ....?
Is it just me, or is that not one of the craziest things you've ever heard?
Unless you happen to be a thirty-one year old woman, and even then you might find this report a bit disturbing ... depending on whether or not you're pleased with your appearance at this particular age. If you're not, well you might be thinking "Oh great! So this is as good as it gets! Pass the double chocolate chip ice cream please, I'm doomed!"
Then there are the rest of us who passed that so-called age of "perfection" without even realizing it.
I'm sorry, but I didn't need this kind of depressing information less than four weeks before my fiftieth birthday, (and nearly nineteen years after my thirty-first!)
What ever happened to "Fifty is the new thirty"? Even then, they were referring to a state of youth and not necessarily "beauty". (Didn't someone actually say that recently, or is that something I made up myself? We old, out of shape, way past our prime women tend to be delusional, after all.)
Seriously though. Where did the people who came up with that answer to the question, "At what age is a woman the most beautiful?" get their information, and why did it merit fifteen seconds of fame on the morning news?
For that matter, why did anyone feel the need to pin "most beautiful" to any particular age in the first place?
I protest and I believe all other non-thirty-one year old women should do the same. "Beauty" cannot be assigned an age at which it peaks. Shame on whomever it was who decided differently.
I'm fairly certain we haven't heard the last of this one, folks. Just wait until the "Dove Campaign for Real Beauty" people get their hands on this information! Surely they'll set some people straight on the matter.
In the mean time, here's to the truly beautiful people, no matter how old (or young) you may be.
Becky J. Taylor
July 19, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Sunday, July 11, 2010
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
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
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tunic Tops and Tummy Troubles
I had my yearly checkup at the GYN yesterday.
Yes ladies, I can sense your sympathies oozing through cyberspace!
The good news is, I came home with a clean bill of health (gynecologically speaking.)
The bad news is, the doctor informed me there is no "magic pill" available to reverse these mid-life weight gaining issues.
I told him I'd packed on about fifteen pounds since last summer and he nodded,then confirmed that fifteen pounds was about what would be expected. He said the average reported weight gain for my "age" is around one-two lbs per month!
And there's very little I can do about it.
Grrrr!
OK, so there is actually something I can do. I can eat less AND increase my exercise.
Excuse me? I don't eat much as it is. Typically, I lose weight in the summer because I often "forget" to eat and I am generally more active.
Yet, this summer has been the exception to the rule. I've done all the above, in addition to placing more emphasis on diet and I continue to gain.
I asked the doc if the "gaining one-two pounds a month" would go on for the rest of my life, and he assured me it should "plateau" at some point. So, depending on when/if it plateaus, I could weigh fifteen more pounds by next summer!
I just don't want to think about it. This was suppose to be my summer of liberation...the year I turn fifty, not the year I gain fifty!
Mother Nature is a cruel prankster for sure. Just about the time I was getting comfortable in my own skin and not worrying about my figure being less than super-model perfect, she throws me this curve ball. I am now filling out the aforementioned skin, stretching it to it's limits like never before.
Who knew midlife would be such a challenge?
Who ever suspected it would strike such a blow to my ego?
Certainly not this die-hard optimist!
I suppose I'll adjust ... eventually. I realize a little weight gain is nothing compared to the more serious issues I could be facing right now. I am healthy and for that I am very thankful!
My celebration of Summer 2010 shall continue despite the ever increasing size of my mid-section. Thank goodness empire waistlines and tunic tops are in this year! Happy 50th Birthday to me!
Becky Taylor
June 25, 2010
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Yes ladies, I can sense your sympathies oozing through cyberspace!
The good news is, I came home with a clean bill of health (gynecologically speaking.)
The bad news is, the doctor informed me there is no "magic pill" available to reverse these mid-life weight gaining issues.
I told him I'd packed on about fifteen pounds since last summer and he nodded,then confirmed that fifteen pounds was about what would be expected. He said the average reported weight gain for my "age" is around one-two lbs per month!
And there's very little I can do about it.
Grrrr!
OK, so there is actually something I can do. I can eat less AND increase my exercise.
Excuse me? I don't eat much as it is. Typically, I lose weight in the summer because I often "forget" to eat and I am generally more active.
Yet, this summer has been the exception to the rule. I've done all the above, in addition to placing more emphasis on diet and I continue to gain.
I asked the doc if the "gaining one-two pounds a month" would go on for the rest of my life, and he assured me it should "plateau" at some point. So, depending on when/if it plateaus, I could weigh fifteen more pounds by next summer!
I just don't want to think about it. This was suppose to be my summer of liberation...the year I turn fifty, not the year I gain fifty!
Mother Nature is a cruel prankster for sure. Just about the time I was getting comfortable in my own skin and not worrying about my figure being less than super-model perfect, she throws me this curve ball. I am now filling out the aforementioned skin, stretching it to it's limits like never before.
Who knew midlife would be such a challenge?
Who ever suspected it would strike such a blow to my ego?
Certainly not this die-hard optimist!
I suppose I'll adjust ... eventually. I realize a little weight gain is nothing compared to the more serious issues I could be facing right now. I am healthy and for that I am very thankful!
My celebration of Summer 2010 shall continue despite the ever increasing size of my mid-section. Thank goodness empire waistlines and tunic tops are in this year! Happy 50th Birthday to me!
Becky Taylor
June 25, 2010
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Monday, May 31, 2010
Grandma Buys a Bathing Suit
I've outgrown my old bathing suits.
Since we've lived near the lake I've acquired several. My most recent favorite has been a cute little two piece (no, I'm not talking "bikini") that shows not too much and not too little. I've worn it when Walt and I were out on the lake alone, or when we've been on vacation.
I have another suit I like a lot as well. It's also a two piece, but the bottom is made like a pair of shorts with a little skirt over it. It isn't made out of that awful stretchy material a lot of skirted bottoms have. It's more like the regular stuff you'd expect shorts to be made of.
The top covers all the way down to the waistband of the shorts, so this suit provides more coverage than the first one. I wore it when I was planning to be more active, like when the grand kids were with us, or I thought I might be riding on the tube behind the boat. It's the one I wore when we went white water rafting too, so obviously I've felt fairly secure in it.
The rest of my swimsuits are pretty much mix and match. I bought one that has the regular "granny" style skirt on it. I don't care much for that one and have used it mostly only as a spare.
I own another two piece suit but I've only worn the top with the bottoms of the second suit I mentioned. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.
I tried my favorite suit on late last summer and realized it wasn't fitting quite like it use to. I knew I'd picked up a few pounds, but didn't think it was enough to make a difference in the way my clothes looked on me.
I was wrong. The cute little two piece "vacation" suit went back in the drawer and I pulled out suit number two. It still fit (pretty much). Thank God!
Earlier this spring, I tried my second favorite suit on again and noticed the bottoms were difficult to zip. I managed to get into it, but I didn't feel nearly as comfortable as I'd felt in the past. That's when I had to admit I was going to have to buy a new suit.
I suppose all women come to a similar moment of realization somewhere around the age of fifty. Even when we can get into the same size clothing as before, it fits differently. Suddenly all our flesh (and flab) moves to a new location on our bodies and apparently there isn't a darn thing we can do about it!
Except buy a new bathing suit.
I looked at bathing suits online last night just to get a feel for what was out there. I searched for suits that would slim the areas that need slimming and enhance the areas I'd like to enhance. It turns out they do make those suits, but not in my price range!
I had to compromise.
I settled on one I found on a nationwide department store website and went in search of it at the local store this morning. It's very similar to my second favorite suit, except the bottoms have regular bathing suit pants under the skirt instead of shorts.
And it covers a lot more.
Oh, and it's made out of that horrible stretchy material I associate with the "granny" skirts. Grr!
The one I bought wasn't the only one I tried on while I was there. I tried to find one I thought I'd like better.
That didn't happen. I noticed that every one I tried on seemed to cover more and more of my body. I came to the very sad realization that unless things turn around for me real soon, I'll be looking for a suit fashioned after those worn by women in the 1800's. (Remember the ones with the sleeves and knee length bloomers?)
I settled on the suit I'd found online. Obviously I'm not exactly in love with it but it will have to do for now.
It's a very "safe" suit. I won't have to worry about playing with the grand kids, riding the tube behind the boat, or white water rafting in it.
For that matter I probably won't feel out of place if I need to wear it while grocery shopping or going to a doctor's appointment. I've seen plenty of women out in public wearing a lot less and thought nothing of it!
Well, maybe not fifty year old women, but you know what I mean.
I suppose you might say I am at an awkward stage of life. It's the stage between trying to camouflage the tricks Mother Nature is playing with my body, and that where I truly just don't care what other people think anymore.
In the meantime it's just what I said ... awkward. In some ways I don't want to move on to the "I truly don't care" stage, while in others I wish I'd just hurry up and stop giving a darn!
Not giving a darn would make it much easier for me when I show up at the neighborhood pool in my 1800'style suit complete with sleeves and bloomers!
Until I make the transition, here's a picture of me taken in my previously favorite swim suit. Walt and I were on vacation year before last. I was waving to him from the beach in Bucerias, Mexico.
Or so I thought.
How was I to know I was actually waving good-bye to the days when I could wear a suit like that and get by with it?
Bye-bye cute little two piece suit. I hate to see you go ...
June 1, 2010
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Since we've lived near the lake I've acquired several. My most recent favorite has been a cute little two piece (no, I'm not talking "bikini") that shows not too much and not too little. I've worn it when Walt and I were out on the lake alone, or when we've been on vacation.
I have another suit I like a lot as well. It's also a two piece, but the bottom is made like a pair of shorts with a little skirt over it. It isn't made out of that awful stretchy material a lot of skirted bottoms have. It's more like the regular stuff you'd expect shorts to be made of.
The top covers all the way down to the waistband of the shorts, so this suit provides more coverage than the first one. I wore it when I was planning to be more active, like when the grand kids were with us, or I thought I might be riding on the tube behind the boat. It's the one I wore when we went white water rafting too, so obviously I've felt fairly secure in it.
The rest of my swimsuits are pretty much mix and match. I bought one that has the regular "granny" style skirt on it. I don't care much for that one and have used it mostly only as a spare.
I own another two piece suit but I've only worn the top with the bottoms of the second suit I mentioned. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.
I tried my favorite suit on late last summer and realized it wasn't fitting quite like it use to. I knew I'd picked up a few pounds, but didn't think it was enough to make a difference in the way my clothes looked on me.
I was wrong. The cute little two piece "vacation" suit went back in the drawer and I pulled out suit number two. It still fit (pretty much). Thank God!
Earlier this spring, I tried my second favorite suit on again and noticed the bottoms were difficult to zip. I managed to get into it, but I didn't feel nearly as comfortable as I'd felt in the past. That's when I had to admit I was going to have to buy a new suit.
I suppose all women come to a similar moment of realization somewhere around the age of fifty. Even when we can get into the same size clothing as before, it fits differently. Suddenly all our flesh (and flab) moves to a new location on our bodies and apparently there isn't a darn thing we can do about it!
Except buy a new bathing suit.
I looked at bathing suits online last night just to get a feel for what was out there. I searched for suits that would slim the areas that need slimming and enhance the areas I'd like to enhance. It turns out they do make those suits, but not in my price range!
I had to compromise.
I settled on one I found on a nationwide department store website and went in search of it at the local store this morning. It's very similar to my second favorite suit, except the bottoms have regular bathing suit pants under the skirt instead of shorts.
And it covers a lot more.
Oh, and it's made out of that horrible stretchy material I associate with the "granny" skirts. Grr!
The one I bought wasn't the only one I tried on while I was there. I tried to find one I thought I'd like better.
That didn't happen. I noticed that every one I tried on seemed to cover more and more of my body. I came to the very sad realization that unless things turn around for me real soon, I'll be looking for a suit fashioned after those worn by women in the 1800's. (Remember the ones with the sleeves and knee length bloomers?)
I settled on the suit I'd found online. Obviously I'm not exactly in love with it but it will have to do for now.
It's a very "safe" suit. I won't have to worry about playing with the grand kids, riding the tube behind the boat, or white water rafting in it.
For that matter I probably won't feel out of place if I need to wear it while grocery shopping or going to a doctor's appointment. I've seen plenty of women out in public wearing a lot less and thought nothing of it!
Well, maybe not fifty year old women, but you know what I mean.
I suppose you might say I am at an awkward stage of life. It's the stage between trying to camouflage the tricks Mother Nature is playing with my body, and that where I truly just don't care what other people think anymore.
In the meantime it's just what I said ... awkward. In some ways I don't want to move on to the "I truly don't care" stage, while in others I wish I'd just hurry up and stop giving a darn!
Not giving a darn would make it much easier for me when I show up at the neighborhood pool in my 1800'style suit complete with sleeves and bloomers!
Until I make the transition, here's a picture of me taken in my previously favorite swim suit. Walt and I were on vacation year before last. I was waving to him from the beach in Bucerias, Mexico.
Or so I thought.
How was I to know I was actually waving good-bye to the days when I could wear a suit like that and get by with it?
Bye-bye cute little two piece suit. I hate to see you go ...
June 1, 2010
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
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
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
Friday, May 8, 2009
Mental Pause
My wonderful husband, Walter and I were having dinner a couple weeks ago when our conversation turned to the subject of sleep. I mentioned how relieved I was that I'd been sleeping like a baby since we'd returned from Savannah several days before. This was a much welcomed development, since I hadn't slept through the night for a number of months preceding.
After listening to me for a few seconds, Walt shrugged his shoulders and said quite innocently, "You must be going through menopause."
What?
The atmosphere suddenly became a little less than romantic.
I couldn't help but wonder where in the world Walt had been for the last few months.
In the time that has passed since shortly after last Thanksgiving I have:
1.Been forbidden to have any part in the lives of three of my precious grandchildren.
2.Watched my youngest daughter nearly die of pregnancy related complications.
3.Suffered through my fourteen year old son's emotional breakdown (to the point I had to remove him from school and put him in therapy)
4.Experienced an 80% loss in our electrical contracting business (and subsequent income).
5.Sat by the same daughter's bedside as the surgeon forcefully removed her pre-mature baby at 24 weeks 4 days gestation (that's a 5 month pregnancy if you do the math). Knowing it was the only possible chance for saving both of their lives was little consolation.
6.Helplessly stood by as the pre-mature baby died two weeks thereafter.
7.Grieved accordingly.
Need I go on?
Because those are just some of the reasons my brain had been too full to sleep!
Suffice to say I was a bit taken back by my husband's rather pat answer to the issue.
If I'd truly been "hormonal" I would have sprang across the table and strangled him on the spot. Don't tell ME about hormonal!
Within a New York minute of Walt's comment (and without the aid of strangulation) I believe I'd effectively set him straight on the matter. Never-the-less, the question remains ...why do men always seem to think that every negative emotional reaction we women experience is somehow related to our hormones?
Any one of the aforementioned situations would have merited a few sleepless nights, with or without hormonal interference. And yet Walt saw none of those things as significant in their own right?
Noooooooo .... the source of my insomniatic state had to be narrowed down to that one thing, and that one thing alone.
Hormones.
It's an age old question and I have no reason to believe that I will be the one to come up with an answer.
Maybe he was right. Maybe what I was experiencing was not a "natural" reaction to the truckload of unusually stressful situations that hit me without warning. If only I'd realized that possibility! Had it not been for my hormonal state of being, I probably would have been able to skip obliviously and happily through the entire ordeal!
Perhaps there is no such thing as "stress" aside from hormonal influence after all! Wow! What a revelation!
Of course, it would have to be a MAN who would come up with such a simple answer. We women are way too hormonal to ever think of such a thing.
Ladies, I think you will agree ... sometimes we just have to wonder what men are thinking and why they happen to be thinking it! My best guess is that their minds are over-saturated with testosterone thus rendering them incapable of grasping a true-er and more complex explanation.
I've come to this conclusion. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!
Just blame it on the hormones!
After listening to me for a few seconds, Walt shrugged his shoulders and said quite innocently, "You must be going through menopause."
What?
The atmosphere suddenly became a little less than romantic.
I couldn't help but wonder where in the world Walt had been for the last few months.
In the time that has passed since shortly after last Thanksgiving I have:
1.Been forbidden to have any part in the lives of three of my precious grandchildren.
2.Watched my youngest daughter nearly die of pregnancy related complications.
3.Suffered through my fourteen year old son's emotional breakdown (to the point I had to remove him from school and put him in therapy)
4.Experienced an 80% loss in our electrical contracting business (and subsequent income).
5.Sat by the same daughter's bedside as the surgeon forcefully removed her pre-mature baby at 24 weeks 4 days gestation (that's a 5 month pregnancy if you do the math). Knowing it was the only possible chance for saving both of their lives was little consolation.
6.Helplessly stood by as the pre-mature baby died two weeks thereafter.
7.Grieved accordingly.
Need I go on?
Because those are just some of the reasons my brain had been too full to sleep!
Suffice to say I was a bit taken back by my husband's rather pat answer to the issue.
If I'd truly been "hormonal" I would have sprang across the table and strangled him on the spot. Don't tell ME about hormonal!
Within a New York minute of Walt's comment (and without the aid of strangulation) I believe I'd effectively set him straight on the matter. Never-the-less, the question remains ...why do men always seem to think that every negative emotional reaction we women experience is somehow related to our hormones?
Any one of the aforementioned situations would have merited a few sleepless nights, with or without hormonal interference. And yet Walt saw none of those things as significant in their own right?
Noooooooo .... the source of my insomniatic state had to be narrowed down to that one thing, and that one thing alone.
Hormones.
It's an age old question and I have no reason to believe that I will be the one to come up with an answer.
Maybe he was right. Maybe what I was experiencing was not a "natural" reaction to the truckload of unusually stressful situations that hit me without warning. If only I'd realized that possibility! Had it not been for my hormonal state of being, I probably would have been able to skip obliviously and happily through the entire ordeal!
Perhaps there is no such thing as "stress" aside from hormonal influence after all! Wow! What a revelation!
Of course, it would have to be a MAN who would come up with such a simple answer. We women are way too hormonal to ever think of such a thing.
Ladies, I think you will agree ... sometimes we just have to wonder what men are thinking and why they happen to be thinking it! My best guess is that their minds are over-saturated with testosterone thus rendering them incapable of grasping a true-er and more complex explanation.
I've come to this conclusion. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!
Just blame it on the hormones!
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