Since June, I have been in the throes of a child support adjustment review. I originally asked for the review, since it's been what ... eight years since I've had an increase? For that matter, I've never requested any changes at all.
My bad!
Meanwhile,both mine and my husband's businesses have all but bottomed out along with about 20% of the rest of Georgia's residents. (The actual unemployment rate in Ga is around 12% which is among the highest in the nation, but that only includes those who are still drawing unemployment checks. Most of the unemployed have already exhausted their benefits.)
The original findings determined I was due more child support ... and a fair amount at that.
That didn't sit well with the ex, who filed a protest. His theory was that I didn't deserve an increase. He thought the amount of child support I receive should be based on what I am capable of making instead of what I am actually bringing in.
I've never heard of such a thing and was reasonably content the magistrate would find no reason to change the first ruling.
Wrong!
The Child Support Enforcement Agency determined that I am indeed "willfully underemployed" Translated, this means that since I have a college degree and theoretically could be working in a hospital lab, but am not, I somehow have only myself to blame for my recent financial woes.
I am absolutely blown away by this. It's downright ridiculous!
I tried to explain to them why I was unable to work in the lab for the last couple years, that being because my son has had special needs which required me to be available at a moments notice.
I told them how I'd started the coaching business in order to try to have a steady income and keep my schedule somewhat flexible at the same time.
I mentioned the fact that over the last ten months I've applied for many laboratory jobs and actually landed four interviews only to be rejected every time.
Yes, I have a college degree and laboratory experience. I am also fifty years old and haven't worked in a lab for over six years. Hospitals aren't exactly clamoring for bench techs like me. If they do happen to be hiring, they prefer someone a little "fresher" than a fifty year old grandma who hasn't peered through a microscope since Shep was a pup!
Shame on the Child Support Enforcement people! Double shame on my son's father! I've not caused one moments trouble with them, yet when I ask for something I rightfully deserve I am slapped in the face with a label such as "Willfully Underemployed?"
Until this happened I've often defended the CSEA. I always thought their bum rap came from lazy, good for nothing mothers whose only desire in life was to get "even" with their ex's and make them miserable ... then were disappointed when a "fair" ruling was made in favor of the fathers.
That mindset is definitely history. They are every bit as pious and uncaring as all the rumors would indicate.
"Willfully Underemployed" Yeah, sure ... me and about four hundred thousand other people in the state of Georgia!
Sleep well tonight, CSEA! (And may the bird of paradise fly up your nose!)
Showing posts with label womens issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label womens issues. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
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!
"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!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
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
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
Friday, July 30, 2010
Great! They've Killed the Elves too!
This blog isn't turning out quite like I'd pictured. As a matter of fact, the end product doesn't resemble my vision in the least.
When I wrote the last post, I reported the recent burning of my very important bridge to my "happy place". I also mentioned that I was clinging to the slightest possibility of little elves sneaking in and reconstructing it for me as a birthday surprise.
Yesterday I discovered the elves had been assassinated as well! I found their pitiful little carcasses scattered all over the place ... innocent victims of a malicious ex (or more likely his current wife.) Ugh!
No, make that double Ugh!
When is this going to end?
Why does it suddenly seem that life is out to get me?
Honestly, I started this blog with every intention of having fun with it ... lots of fun! Never did I intend it to turn into a whiny melodrama!
I'm a nice person. I always try to do what is right. I firmly (or at least use to) believe that one reaps what one sows.
Sow sweetness, reap cotton candy!
Sow nastiness, reap raw sewage!
Obviously the lines have been criss-crossed somewhere along the way because this definitely isn't cotton candy I'm standing in up to my armpits right now.
In summery: The ex (and his wife) have decided to appeal the court's decision to increase child support for the boy. This, despite the fact I am sitting on thousands of dollars of unpaid medical bills which the ex (and his wife) have refused to help pay.
This, despite the fact my income has steadily declined to almost nothing over the last several years, thanks to the economy.
This, despite the fact I've not asked for, or received a single increase for eight years. Meanwhile, they tried to get it decreased three years ago.
This despite the fact the ex has had a steady, well paying job the whole time. (For whatever reason,the lousy economy chose to spare him any grief.)
Oh, also despite the fact he's not spent one red cent on our son above what the court has insisted he pay.
I could go on, but I'll just move right to the real clincher.
Ready?
The hearing is scheduled for AUGUST 12th in OHIO!
Yup!
By some twist of fate, my two year long dream of spending the week of my birthday with my husband, kids, and grand-kids on a beach in Mexico has gradually been reduced to "celebrating" by sitting in a stuffy office in Ohio across the table from the ex (and God help me, probably his wife) trying to prove I'm not hiding a ton of money some place just to spite them.
I know that's why they appealed the court's decision to increase my son's support by a whopping $175.00/mo plus make him pay half of the boy's medical bills because I talked to the CSEA case worker today and she told me so!
Trust me. If I had a ton of money, hidden or otherwise, I wouldn't think of bothering the ex for help of any kind (even though he owes it to our son)
If I had a ton of money (or even just a little to spare) I'd be on that beach in Mexico sipping on a cold, fruity drink right now, any thoughts of the ex (or his wife) the absolute farthest thing from my mind!
Here I am instead. No Mexico. No Beach. No Big 50th Birthday Bash. No Money.
Just lots of aggravation and questions I'd like to have answered.
On second thought, forget about at least one of those questions. I'm afraid to ask "What next?" at this point. Given my current run of bad luck, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like the answer.
Poor me ... even worse, poor little elves!
Becky Taylor
July 30, 2010
When I wrote the last post, I reported the recent burning of my very important bridge to my "happy place". I also mentioned that I was clinging to the slightest possibility of little elves sneaking in and reconstructing it for me as a birthday surprise.
Yesterday I discovered the elves had been assassinated as well! I found their pitiful little carcasses scattered all over the place ... innocent victims of a malicious ex (or more likely his current wife.) Ugh!
No, make that double Ugh!
When is this going to end?
Why does it suddenly seem that life is out to get me?
Honestly, I started this blog with every intention of having fun with it ... lots of fun! Never did I intend it to turn into a whiny melodrama!
I'm a nice person. I always try to do what is right. I firmly (or at least use to) believe that one reaps what one sows.
Sow sweetness, reap cotton candy!
Sow nastiness, reap raw sewage!
Obviously the lines have been criss-crossed somewhere along the way because this definitely isn't cotton candy I'm standing in up to my armpits right now.
In summery: The ex (and his wife) have decided to appeal the court's decision to increase child support for the boy. This, despite the fact I am sitting on thousands of dollars of unpaid medical bills which the ex (and his wife) have refused to help pay.
This, despite the fact my income has steadily declined to almost nothing over the last several years, thanks to the economy.
This, despite the fact I've not asked for, or received a single increase for eight years. Meanwhile, they tried to get it decreased three years ago.
This despite the fact the ex has had a steady, well paying job the whole time. (For whatever reason,the lousy economy chose to spare him any grief.)
Oh, also despite the fact he's not spent one red cent on our son above what the court has insisted he pay.
I could go on, but I'll just move right to the real clincher.
Ready?
The hearing is scheduled for AUGUST 12th in OHIO!
Yup!
By some twist of fate, my two year long dream of spending the week of my birthday with my husband, kids, and grand-kids on a beach in Mexico has gradually been reduced to "celebrating" by sitting in a stuffy office in Ohio across the table from the ex (and God help me, probably his wife) trying to prove I'm not hiding a ton of money some place just to spite them.
I know that's why they appealed the court's decision to increase my son's support by a whopping $175.00/mo plus make him pay half of the boy's medical bills because I talked to the CSEA case worker today and she told me so!
Trust me. If I had a ton of money, hidden or otherwise, I wouldn't think of bothering the ex for help of any kind (even though he owes it to our son)
If I had a ton of money (or even just a little to spare) I'd be on that beach in Mexico sipping on a cold, fruity drink right now, any thoughts of the ex (or his wife) the absolute farthest thing from my mind!
Here I am instead. No Mexico. No Beach. No Big 50th Birthday Bash. No Money.
Just lots of aggravation and questions I'd like to have answered.
On second thought, forget about at least one of those questions. I'm afraid to ask "What next?" at this point. Given my current run of bad luck, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like the answer.
Poor me ... even worse, poor little elves!
Becky Taylor
July 30, 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
Friday, July 16, 2010
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
Monday, June 21, 2010
Grandma Buys A Bathing Suit .. (The Sequel)
After buying the new bathing suit with more "coverage" a few weeks ago and discovering I felt pretty much miserable (and old) in it, I bit the bullet and went bathing suit shopping again last Thursday.
I was feeling a bit brave when I dug out my old favorite two piece and tried it on last week. You know what? It really doesn't look that bad. I officially brought it out of retirement and started wearing it to the pool.
Feeling secure in my old two piece once again, I returned to the store on Friday and bought not one, but three new two piece suits. The first one, a bit more revealing than my old favorite, and the other two a lot more revealing than any I've worn in recent history.
Do I look like a nineteen year old in any of the suits? Of course not!
Do I really care? Nope!
I don't go to the pool to compete with anyone, neither am I trying to attract the attention of any members of the opposite sex. I don't crave positive re-enforcement or wolf whistles (except from my husband, of course) I just want to be comfortable and cool. It's that simple.
I feel good about my decision. Better yet, I feel downright liberated!
I will wear my new bathing suits with my head held high. Anyone who doesn't like it ... feel free to look the other way!
Becky J. Taylor
June 21, 2010
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
I was feeling a bit brave when I dug out my old favorite two piece and tried it on last week. You know what? It really doesn't look that bad. I officially brought it out of retirement and started wearing it to the pool.
Feeling secure in my old two piece once again, I returned to the store on Friday and bought not one, but three new two piece suits. The first one, a bit more revealing than my old favorite, and the other two a lot more revealing than any I've worn in recent history.
Do I look like a nineteen year old in any of the suits? Of course not!
Do I really care? Nope!
I don't go to the pool to compete with anyone, neither am I trying to attract the attention of any members of the opposite sex. I don't crave positive re-enforcement or wolf whistles (except from my husband, of course) I just want to be comfortable and cool. It's that simple.
I feel good about my decision. Better yet, I feel downright liberated!
I will wear my new bathing suits with my head held high. Anyone who doesn't like it ... feel free to look the other way!
Becky J. Taylor
June 21, 2010
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
Thursday, May 27, 2010
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
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
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Flavor
.jpg)
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
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
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
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
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Woe is Me ... Slobberin' In My Mothers Day Tea ,,,
My husband asked me yesterday what I would like for Mothers Day. I told him I only wanted my kids all together with me for the afternoon.
Then we laughed.
We laughed just like we laugh at some point around all the holidays when I say how much I'd like my kids (and grand kids, of course) together to celebrate with me.
We laugh at ourselves for thinking for one milli-second that it could actually ever happen.
It isn't like I have a dozen children. I only have three, two of which are grown with families of their own. One is still at home, and although I suppose he'll be here with me tomorrow in the technical sense of the word, his mind couldn't be farther from "Mothers Day".
He's fifteen, so I can't fault him all that much. He's thinking right now about computers, girls, and getting his license this summer. (In that order)
The boy did clean his room thoroughly yesterday. I could fantasize that he was doing that as a gift to me, but of course I know better. He wants to have a friend over this afternoon and was trying to increase the odds of me saying "yes".
I feel like some sort of oddity. I can't remember ever having all my kids together with me for Mothers Day, much less it being any kind of day to be celebrated.
My youngest daughter,Emily has spent Mothers Day weekend with me a few times. Those have been my favorites. A couple years back, we went to the Renaissance Fair together. That was a blast! The year after that she and her family spent the weekend with us and we had a "regular" Mothers Day weekend which included a picnic at the lake. It too, was loads of fun!
My second-born can't be here all the time but she has a way of making every day we are together "Mothers Day" for me. That definitely puts a permanent smile across my heart.
It isn't her fault she can't be here tomorrow. I totally understand.
I also have to take partial responsibility for making it difficult for my children to be together. I was the one who moved to Georgia, over five hundred miles away from "home". It isn't like they can "pop in" after church to take me to dinner.
No. It would take some effort. Far be it from me to expect that.
(Although I could mention that it never seemed to be any more likely to happen before I moved away)
As far as my own mother is concerned, I know I wasn't the "perfect" daughter when it came to Mothers Day either. I'm sure there's more I could have done to make her feel special that day in May. I was, however, at her house nearly every Sunday of my adult life before I moved.
I know I sound like I'm whining. I really don't mean to be. Part of my problem is that I am unusually bored with life in general right now. When I get bored I daydream about nonsensical stuff ... like taking off on a world cruise ... moving to a deserted island somewhere ... hitting the lottery (so I can afford the first two daydreams) ... or having all my kids together with me to celebrate Mothers Day.
I'll put my soapbox away now ... at least until August when my fiftieth birthday will be rolling around. For that, I've had a long-standing fantasy about all my children and their kids spending two weeks with me in Mexico, where I would watch my grand-children play on the beach, then spend the evening of my birthday ushering in the second century of my life in great style.
I've told them all in no uncertain terms what I've envisioned my big 5-0 birthday party to look like, Mexican beach and grand-babies included. Lets just say we know already that isn't going to be happening. I'm not being negative, but rather realistic, when I say that. It's a fact, there are extenuating circumstances in place that will definitely prevent it from coming to pass.
Oh well! Such is life. I will survive!
If you still have your Mother with you, it isn't too late to make her day tomorrow truly special. The greatest thing you can give her is not "presents" but your presence and your love. C'mon. It's ONE day out of the year. It isn't going to kill you! And, after she's gone, you won't kick yourself nearly as hard for never having taken the time and effort to appreciate her while she was alive.
Happy Mothers Day!
Now, I think I'm going to go rent myself some substitute grand children and head to the lake!
5/8/2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Then we laughed.
We laughed just like we laugh at some point around all the holidays when I say how much I'd like my kids (and grand kids, of course) together to celebrate with me.
We laugh at ourselves for thinking for one milli-second that it could actually ever happen.
It isn't like I have a dozen children. I only have three, two of which are grown with families of their own. One is still at home, and although I suppose he'll be here with me tomorrow in the technical sense of the word, his mind couldn't be farther from "Mothers Day".
He's fifteen, so I can't fault him all that much. He's thinking right now about computers, girls, and getting his license this summer. (In that order)
The boy did clean his room thoroughly yesterday. I could fantasize that he was doing that as a gift to me, but of course I know better. He wants to have a friend over this afternoon and was trying to increase the odds of me saying "yes".
I feel like some sort of oddity. I can't remember ever having all my kids together with me for Mothers Day, much less it being any kind of day to be celebrated.
My youngest daughter,Emily has spent Mothers Day weekend with me a few times. Those have been my favorites. A couple years back, we went to the Renaissance Fair together. That was a blast! The year after that she and her family spent the weekend with us and we had a "regular" Mothers Day weekend which included a picnic at the lake. It too, was loads of fun!
My second-born can't be here all the time but she has a way of making every day we are together "Mothers Day" for me. That definitely puts a permanent smile across my heart.
It isn't her fault she can't be here tomorrow. I totally understand.
I also have to take partial responsibility for making it difficult for my children to be together. I was the one who moved to Georgia, over five hundred miles away from "home". It isn't like they can "pop in" after church to take me to dinner.
No. It would take some effort. Far be it from me to expect that.
(Although I could mention that it never seemed to be any more likely to happen before I moved away)
As far as my own mother is concerned, I know I wasn't the "perfect" daughter when it came to Mothers Day either. I'm sure there's more I could have done to make her feel special that day in May. I was, however, at her house nearly every Sunday of my adult life before I moved.
I know I sound like I'm whining. I really don't mean to be. Part of my problem is that I am unusually bored with life in general right now. When I get bored I daydream about nonsensical stuff ... like taking off on a world cruise ... moving to a deserted island somewhere ... hitting the lottery (so I can afford the first two daydreams) ... or having all my kids together with me to celebrate Mothers Day.
I'll put my soapbox away now ... at least until August when my fiftieth birthday will be rolling around. For that, I've had a long-standing fantasy about all my children and their kids spending two weeks with me in Mexico, where I would watch my grand-children play on the beach, then spend the evening of my birthday ushering in the second century of my life in great style.
I've told them all in no uncertain terms what I've envisioned my big 5-0 birthday party to look like, Mexican beach and grand-babies included. Lets just say we know already that isn't going to be happening. I'm not being negative, but rather realistic, when I say that. It's a fact, there are extenuating circumstances in place that will definitely prevent it from coming to pass.
Oh well! Such is life. I will survive!
If you still have your Mother with you, it isn't too late to make her day tomorrow truly special. The greatest thing you can give her is not "presents" but your presence and your love. C'mon. It's ONE day out of the year. It isn't going to kill you! And, after she's gone, you won't kick yourself nearly as hard for never having taken the time and effort to appreciate her while she was alive.
Happy Mothers Day!
Now, I think I'm going to go rent myself some substitute grand children and head to the lake!
5/8/2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.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
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Our Next Business Venture (A NEW Haunting in Savannah!)
While enjoying a short vacation in Savannah over the weekend, our daughter in law, Ryan and I had a stroke of genius regarding a possible new business we could not only start, but actually enjoy doing together.
It started with a walking "ghost tour" we (Walt, Ryan and Wesley and I) took together. I asked our tour guide how many evenings a week he works and he answered "three". Then he volunteered that during those three nights a week, he makes enough to pay his mortgage!
He also works as a Jr. High History teacher during the day. I wondered, but of course didn't ask, if maybe he makes almost as much with job as a tour guide as he does as a teacher.
That tidbit of information was enough to get the wheels a'turnin'.
Walt is a natural born story teller, and having been on several tours of Savannah (ghost and otherwise) in the past we decided he would make a great tour guide. Given the various renditions of the stories we've heard over the years, we came to the conclusion that a lot of the stuff is made improvised. Mr. Taylor would be great at that!
Meanwhile, Ryan and I would disguise ourselves as specters by wearing floaty white dresses and hanging out around one of the many town squares at night. We figure we could enlist people to take Walt's undoubtedly unique walking tour at ten or fifteen bucks a piece. That, with additional tips added would surely bring in enough money for us to buy an old "fixer upper" which we could restore and use as a house museum to bring even more additional funds.
Of course, with all these plans we will need other family members to participate so we are inviting them all to join us there. Grand-kids, Esther, Philip, Shaina, Kayla and Jayden would be great at portraying any of the number of "mischievous" child specters reported to be roaming Savannah's historic hotels. For a few months, the new grand-child due to arrive in August could also participate as the baby claimed to be sought after by his mother, "Alice" ... an 1800's servant who was hanged in the square shortly after giving birth. Her ghost is reported to have been seen walking around town searching for the little guy for the last 200 years. We figured my daughter, Angel could also don a white floaty gown and carry the baby around at night telling everyone she is the famous "Alice" and she's finally found him!
With all of us involved, the possibilities would be endless!
At the very least, I believe this idea merits further investigation, oh say .. at least a weekend a month spent in Savannah for the next year, to scope out the town and collect more information. (All tax deductible business trips, of course.)
Yes, I do believe we're on to something here! We are going to be RICH! Filthy RICH, I tell you!
Stay tuned for future updates! ;^)
It started with a walking "ghost tour" we (Walt, Ryan and Wesley and I) took together. I asked our tour guide how many evenings a week he works and he answered "three". Then he volunteered that during those three nights a week, he makes enough to pay his mortgage!
He also works as a Jr. High History teacher during the day. I wondered, but of course didn't ask, if maybe he makes almost as much with job as a tour guide as he does as a teacher.
That tidbit of information was enough to get the wheels a'turnin'.
Walt is a natural born story teller, and having been on several tours of Savannah (ghost and otherwise) in the past we decided he would make a great tour guide. Given the various renditions of the stories we've heard over the years, we came to the conclusion that a lot of the stuff is made improvised. Mr. Taylor would be great at that!
Meanwhile, Ryan and I would disguise ourselves as specters by wearing floaty white dresses and hanging out around one of the many town squares at night. We figure we could enlist people to take Walt's undoubtedly unique walking tour at ten or fifteen bucks a piece. That, with additional tips added would surely bring in enough money for us to buy an old "fixer upper" which we could restore and use as a house museum to bring even more additional funds.
Of course, with all these plans we will need other family members to participate so we are inviting them all to join us there. Grand-kids, Esther, Philip, Shaina, Kayla and Jayden would be great at portraying any of the number of "mischievous" child specters reported to be roaming Savannah's historic hotels. For a few months, the new grand-child due to arrive in August could also participate as the baby claimed to be sought after by his mother, "Alice" ... an 1800's servant who was hanged in the square shortly after giving birth. Her ghost is reported to have been seen walking around town searching for the little guy for the last 200 years. We figured my daughter, Angel could also don a white floaty gown and carry the baby around at night telling everyone she is the famous "Alice" and she's finally found him!
With all of us involved, the possibilities would be endless!
At the very least, I believe this idea merits further investigation, oh say .. at least a weekend a month spent in Savannah for the next year, to scope out the town and collect more information. (All tax deductible business trips, of course.)
Yes, I do believe we're on to something here! We are going to be RICH! Filthy RICH, I tell you!
Stay tuned for future updates! ;^)
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Oh Boy!
My twenty-two week pregnant daughter, Angel had an ultrasound yesterday. Everything looked great! The baby weighs a little over a pound and was moving so much that the technician had trouble getting some of the measurements.
She did manage to some very important information though...
It's a BOY!
Grand-baby number six, he will even the score so to speak. As of mid to late August, we will have three grand-daughters and three grand-sons.
As was the case with my own pregnancies,seeing the photo's taken of the ultrasound make this grand-child seem more "real" to me. I think this is especially so because I've not seen Angel since Christmas. She was pregnant then, but hadn't told us.
That, combined with everything else that's been going on, has caused me not to think as often about this one.
My apologies to the little guy. He is every bit as precious and as much loved as the first five grand-children. A bit more of a surprise, maybe ... but a pleasant surprise none-the-less.
Suddenly, I am tempted to go to the OshKosh outlet and buy cute little bibbed overalls and tiny sneakers. After hearing of each of the other grand-children's impending arrivals, I ran straight out and bought a baby gift, so I am a few months behind. No problem! It won't take me long to catch up.
This baby doesn't have a name yet. Angel has waited until after her babies were born to name any of them. I'm calling him "Judah" which means "praise" for now. Who knows? Maybe it will stick.
A lot of uncertainty surrounds my new grandson. I'm concerned for him in many ways. I suppose that is the case, to some extent, with all new babies. I'm convinced the more complicated the circumstances surrounding a birth, the more unique and special the child will be.
This baby is special indeed.
So, welcome to our family baby Judah. As unsettled as your world may seem, one thing will never change...Mamaw loves you very much!
Friday, April 9, 2010
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
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
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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
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
Friday, March 19, 2010
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
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
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Big 5-Oh No!!!
A couple months back I decided I want to be in the best physical condition of my life by the time I turn fifty. The big event will arrive a little less than nine months from now, so I've got to get to work.
Never mind that I also vowed to be in the best physical condition of my life by the time I was thirty, then forty. That doesn't matter anymore. This time I mean it!
With that goal in mind, Walt signed our whole family up for a gym membership this week. We went together for the first time yesterday evening. It took me about two minutes to realize this is going to be harder than I'd previously imagined.
To begin with, someone failed to tell me I needed to make an appointment with the trainer before my first visit, so she could help me come up with a routine and show me how to use the equipment. While Walt jumped right into his exercises, I ended up browsing around inspecting the various torture devices, and feeling rather overwhelmed.
Finally, I climbed onto one of the elliptical machines and chose the "fat burner" mode, entered all my vital information, and set the timer for ten minutes.
Now, I know I'm not a supermodel. Nor do I aspire to enter any body building contests in the near (or distant) future, but I don't think I'm in particularly terrible shape for a woman my age either. For that reason, I was shocked at how quickly I felt done with the workout. After only a few steps on the machine, my heart rate began to rise dramatically.
That was a little scary. I'll admit I was concerned about the possibility of passing out and embarrassing myself in front of the much younger, healthier people who seemed to be treading along effortlessly all around me, more so than I was worried about the possible implications of my speeding pulse.
To make matters worse, my fifteen year old son who was on the treadmill next to me kept reading the information from my machine's digital display out loud for everyone to hear.
"MOM! You're not doing it fast enough! It keeps pausing! You've got to keep walking!"
I didn't want to tell him I was intentionally allowing the thing to pause every few seconds in an effort to save my life.
I glanced at the timer and was happy to see it at four minutes, forty seconds. Whew! I was over half way finished.
My happy little bubble busted almost instantly when I noticed the timer was going up, not down. I didn't have four minutes left ... four minutes was how long I'd been on the stupid thing!
Determined to stay the course yet not be carried out of the gym on a stretcher, I kept plodding along until I reached the ten minute mark.
All's well that ends well, I suppose. I did survive, after all.
After re-evaluating the situation I'm asking myself if it's really necessary that I be in the best physical condition of my life by age fifty? Maybe not. At least for now, I'm going to re-write my script to read I want to be able to last ten minutes on the elliptical machine without giving myself a heart attack.
From here on, I'll take it one step at a time. I may not reach "perfection" over the course of the next nine months, but I will celebrate my fiftieth birthday knowing I did the best I could.
I'm also promising myself that, if by my fifty-first birthday, my hard work has not rewarded me with a firm, healthy body, I'm treating myself to some liposuction!
Becky Taylor
http://www.boldnewday.com
11/19/09
Never mind that I also vowed to be in the best physical condition of my life by the time I was thirty, then forty. That doesn't matter anymore. This time I mean it!
With that goal in mind, Walt signed our whole family up for a gym membership this week. We went together for the first time yesterday evening. It took me about two minutes to realize this is going to be harder than I'd previously imagined.
To begin with, someone failed to tell me I needed to make an appointment with the trainer before my first visit, so she could help me come up with a routine and show me how to use the equipment. While Walt jumped right into his exercises, I ended up browsing around inspecting the various torture devices, and feeling rather overwhelmed.
Finally, I climbed onto one of the elliptical machines and chose the "fat burner" mode, entered all my vital information, and set the timer for ten minutes.
Now, I know I'm not a supermodel. Nor do I aspire to enter any body building contests in the near (or distant) future, but I don't think I'm in particularly terrible shape for a woman my age either. For that reason, I was shocked at how quickly I felt done with the workout. After only a few steps on the machine, my heart rate began to rise dramatically.
That was a little scary. I'll admit I was concerned about the possibility of passing out and embarrassing myself in front of the much younger, healthier people who seemed to be treading along effortlessly all around me, more so than I was worried about the possible implications of my speeding pulse.
To make matters worse, my fifteen year old son who was on the treadmill next to me kept reading the information from my machine's digital display out loud for everyone to hear.
"MOM! You're not doing it fast enough! It keeps pausing! You've got to keep walking!"
I didn't want to tell him I was intentionally allowing the thing to pause every few seconds in an effort to save my life.
I glanced at the timer and was happy to see it at four minutes, forty seconds. Whew! I was over half way finished.
My happy little bubble busted almost instantly when I noticed the timer was going up, not down. I didn't have four minutes left ... four minutes was how long I'd been on the stupid thing!
Determined to stay the course yet not be carried out of the gym on a stretcher, I kept plodding along until I reached the ten minute mark.
All's well that ends well, I suppose. I did survive, after all.
After re-evaluating the situation I'm asking myself if it's really necessary that I be in the best physical condition of my life by age fifty? Maybe not. At least for now, I'm going to re-write my script to read I want to be able to last ten minutes on the elliptical machine without giving myself a heart attack.
From here on, I'll take it one step at a time. I may not reach "perfection" over the course of the next nine months, but I will celebrate my fiftieth birthday knowing I did the best I could.
I'm also promising myself that, if by my fifty-first birthday, my hard work has not rewarded me with a firm, healthy body, I'm treating myself to some liposuction!
Becky Taylor
http://www.boldnewday.com
11/19/09
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)