Twitter Messages

Twitter-esque: Fedora

We’re on the hunt for a Fedora. M, my nephew, showed up Christmas day wearing one and ever since then, it’s all the boys can talk about.

We checked out a few stores today, but no go. So, they may end up ordering one online. Personally? I’m thrilled. The fact that they are ready to step out of their comfort zone pleases me.

Let’s just not go overboard. Some of the things on this site are pretty wacked out. But I’m old, remember?

This watch is pretty smokin‘, though. I wouldn’t mind having that.

And what is up with this outfit? I remember wearing something similar in high school.

I wonder if I could carry that style off now? (just kidding – or am I?)

Tuesday Stuff

Watch Me

heads-or-tails-large I’ve been meaning to do this meme for like, forever and today is the day to get started – mainly because I need something to talk about.

Thank goodness for memes.

Heads or Tails is hosted by Barb a.k.a. Skittles. Thanks Barb!

This week’s prompt: Heads – Watch


Watch me grow old.

Or better yet, don’t watch me grow old. Because I’m going to fight this process with every fiber of my being.

Hi! I’m 43-years old. *cheerfully waves* At least, that’s what “they” claim.

According to my birth certificate, I was born in 1965. Nineteen Sixty-Five. That sounds so ancient, especially since we’re in the 2,000’s now.

Though I’m on record as having been born in 1965, that I am currently 43 years old, I don’t mentally FEEL that old. I mentally FEEL about 25 years old.

Someone check my records; there must be some mistake.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see a 43-year old woman. I see a woman who might possibly pass for 35.

And it’s not just me, heck, I still get carded when I buy wine for my husband. (Granted Wal-Mart associates are now required to card anyone who looks to be younger than 30 but whatever, I can still pretend they think I’m not quite 21).

It’s so hard to explain how I’m feeilng without sounding cliché. You wake up one morning and you’re over 40, 50, 60 and you’re honestly surprised – how did this happen? Where did the years go?

There is something infinitely disturbing about growing old. Getting old happens to other people, it doesn’t happen to me. In my mind, the years are passing but somehow time is standing still for me. The numbers add up but the mental image of yourself does not.

At least, it doesn’t for me.

My children are growing, they are getting older. And that’s thrilling to me. I’m watching them develop into incredible people. But that’s only affecting them, it’s not affecting me. I’m still the naive, inexperienced 26-year old who didn’t recognize that her water broke and refused to go to the hospital until the last possible moment because her baby wasn’t due to be born for another eight weeks.

I try and tell myself being 40-something is not old. It’s a state of mind. It’s just a number.

It’s a high number.

Is my life half over?

What a sobering thought.

However, my age seems to be knocking on my physical door demanding to be let in or at the very least, to be taken seriously. It seems like, in just the last few months, I’ve begun noticing more aches and pains – nothing serious, but serious enough to get my attention.

I’ve always been very healthy. I’ve always pushed myself to my physical limits and bounced back the next day. Now I’m lucky if I bounce back within the week. It’s taking me longer to recuperate from vigorous workouts – much longer. I’m sore for more days and I’m so, so, so tired the next day. Which is normal anyway, especially when you start working out again, but I’ve been consistently working out and I’m still so, so, so tired.

I feel heavy, and not just the fat kind of heavy but my muscles and bones just feel heavy. Sometimes it feels like I’m walking through water, everything just feels sluggish. I’m quite confident it’s not due to a medical condition – again, I’m pretty healthy, I come from very healthy stock, and the changes I feel are subtle, but they’re there. I recognize them because I’ve always been so tuned into my physical condition.

I can usually ignore the aches and pains – I believe I have a pretty high pain threshold. If I didn’t, I’d probably be making regular visits to the doctor because quite honestly, I’m physically uncomfortable the majority of my time now.

But it doesn’t REALLY hit home until my back starts giving me problems.

I’ll be honest, one of the biggest reasons I walk is to keep my back from going out. (And here you thought I was a workout fiend. HA!) It’s when I’m an inactive slug that my back starts the tell-tale twitches and before long, I’m flat on my back and/or hobbling around like an old woman. Walking keeps my back loose and limber. After I discovered that little secret, I’ve been successful at warding off back attacks. Thank the dear Lord above.

So when my back started feeling twitchy a few days ago, I was surprised. I had been walking. I had been stretching. It had been months since my last back episode. What was the dealio, Holmes?

The only thing I can think of to explain my current back problem is that I did a lot of bending and twisting when I took the Christmas tree down. Seriously. My back is tender and sore because of that?!


This realization just disgusts the crap out of me. Am I so weak that I can’t even bend over and perform a simple task without my body betraying me? That’s what happens to OLD people – not to me, damn it!

I’m NOT old. I refuse to GROW old.

I know this is a natural process. I realize that it’s quite normal for my body to age, to break down, to deteriorate. But I’m not ready for that to happen yet. And I refuse to go to the doctor and get drugs because that’s what OLD people do.

At least, that’s what I will continue to tell myself until I honestly do not have a choice in the matter.