The Double Nickel Club

A semi-traumatic event occurred in my life a few weeks ago. I knew it was going to happen, but I’d been dreading it for about a year. The months leading up to this event were somewhat painful and full of trepidation. I just couldn’t fathom how something so daunting, so appalling, so……completely disheartening could happen to me. But regardless of how demoralized I was, my 55^th birthday came anyway.

Bad Hair Days

With the hot, rancid breath of 55 breathing hard down my neck,
I spontaneously decided to try a slightly  different haircut and color the other day.

I’m lucky in the hair department, my hair is fairly thick, has a little body, isn’t terribly frizzy. All in all, not bad hair. The problems start when I try to “style” it.

Give Me a Head With Hair

Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, hair, shoulder length or longer, hair
Here baby, there, momma, everywhere, daddy, daddy

Those lyrics from the 60’s hit song Hair came to me the other day as I was showering and getting ready to go out. I am fortunate to have lots of thick, healthy hair. On my head. That’s where the fortunate part ends, because unfortunately, it’s accompanied by thick, healthy hair on other, less desirable parts of my body. I realized as I was performing my many hair maintenance/styling/eradication routines, that I spend more time and money dealing with hair than I do anything else.

The Siren Song of Girl Scout Cookies

Girl Scouts of the USA is a savvy marketing organization. Once a year, the little cherubs peddle cookies that, if sold on the grocery store shelves, you’d never buy because they are so overpriced. Yet because they’re only available once a year, every year, at least in my family, and around my office, a Girl Scout cookie frenzy ensues.

Every January a colleague places an order form in the breakroom, and miraculously and with no effort on her part, hundreds of dollars worth of orders are collected. I personally ordered 12 boxes for my kids and grandkids, and of course for myself.

The cookies were delivered on Monday, we like Do-si-dos and Tagalongs. My sons and I each got our own personal box of each kind. Because I’m always on a diet, I never lost the “baby weight” (my baby will be 21 this year), I put my cookies in the freezer thinking that would cause me to eat them more slowly, plus keep them out of sight.

A Chink in My Invincibility Layer

I’ve lived with the belief my entire life that bad things don’t happen to me, they might happen to other people, but not to me. I call that inherent “protection” I’ve always felt my invincibility layer. I’ve also always assumed that if I have a setback, or a temporary lack of prosperity, that the situation will reverse. Many people don’t think the same way. They live with a lifelong fear of illness or failure or lack of money.

I’m not saying that I’ve lived the perfect life where nothing’s ever gone wrong, because I’ve certainly had my share of heartache and heartbreak. I’m also not saying that I take foolish risks because I think nothing bad can happen, I’m actually fairly cautious. I’ve also been incredibly blessed – I’ve always been healthy and have never sustained a serious injury, and fortunately the same is true for my kids. I’ve always had a job and have been able to live in safe and comfortable surroundings. For all that, I am extremely grateful.

But recently, I developed a chink in my invincibility layer. A month or so ago, my dad texted me and told me

A Little Nip & Tuck

As tends to happen when we age, I was beginning to look a little battle weary. I’ve noticed that around 50, women’s faces sort of start sliding off their skull. I don’t think that’s a very attractive look, so I decided it was time for a little nip and tuck, or what I view as maintenance work.

I wanted a natural look, not an obvious, overdone, Joan Rivers sort of look, so I consulted with three surgeons and decided to go with the one I’d used 25 years ago to do my nose. He was conservative then, and still is, so I felt comfortable with what he’d do.

Adventures in Booty Calls

In the ideal world, I would have a fairly active sex life. It would be with one man who was a great lover, and it would be multiple times a week. Unfortunately, I don’t live in my ideal world and I’m currently not even dating anyone,  so I have to take sex when I can get it! Sometimes, well fairly regularly, the solution is a booty call. It’s usually with a guy I first met about two years ago. He’s attractive, nice personality, good sense of humor, and as a bonus, he’s “well equipped”. When I first met him I actually thought we’d probably start dating. That never happened, but we seem to get together about once a month or so and have sex.

So Many Fish in the Sea

After looking back over the past two and a half years of “adult dating”, I’ve had a big realization: I always pick the same guy. I don’t mean they all look alike, but to put it in terms of the animal kingdom, I tend to pick sharks (not to malign the men I’ve dated or the shark species). Not all the same type of shark, maybe one guy was a hammerhead and another one a tiger shark, maybe a mako every now and then, or an occasional great white. But all sharks never the less. Even though they’re packaged differently, there are always two things in common:  1) He’s the alpha male and, and 2 )he’s somehow unavailable. Let me explain.

I’ve realized that the guys that I’m naturally attracted to are the ones with the big personality, they are dominant (though it isn’t always in the same way, but consistently I’ve picked the dominant type), they’re in control (or are they controlling?). They’ve all had similar physical characteristics, I tend to like taller and/or bigger guys. Big and tall is even better! And consistently they are unavailable to me either emotionally or physically, or both, though I don’t usually realize that initially. But guess what? I’ve started to realize that even though that’s who I’m attracted to, that’s not really the kind of guy I like! (it has only taken me 53 years to figure that out!)

I’m Not the Mom They Grew Up With

I have recently realized that the woman I am now is not the same woman my kids grew up with. My daughter is older, and went through this transition with me, so it’s a little different for her. But my sons, 20 and 21, have been absent both physically, and for the most part mentally, for the last few years, so I didn’t go through the normal relationship transition from parenting a child to a young adult.

When I was married and raising my sons, I was extremely uptight. I was not happy in my marriage and felt like I had to always be on red alert, making sure the boys didn’t do anything that made their dad mad. I literally never stopped listening for potential trouble. That’s a very tiring way to live and definitely takes a toll on one’s spirit.

When Your Grown Son Moves Into Your Bachelorette Pad

For the last two and a half years, I’ve lived alone and I’ve loved every minute of it. My condo is a total bachelorette pad and it’s my sanctuary.

A week and a half ago my son came to stay with me. It was just supposed to be for a couple days, but now there’s no end in sight. I’m thrilled that he’s home and I haven’t minded having him here. But there are some challenges, and let’s be honest, some….awkward moments…..having a 21 year old son as a roommate.

Since he’s been here, he’s been respectful and pleasant, and I can trust him not to do anything in my house that I don’t allow. He’s not a bother, it’s just, well, he kind of cramps my style!