I’d love to say I’ve mastered the art of growing older gracefully but sometimes there’s just too much getting in the way – like arms that continue to wave long after your company has gone or hair that costs you that same arm AND a leg to keep it looking “natural” which means the way it was in high school. (My high school pals decided to go gray together, but they keep moving it back a year.)
At least you can hide the jiggly arms with long sleeves and the bad hair with hats or just go all the way with ‘’”faux
Picture it. Several hundred of your best friends from a half century ago are gathered at your high school hangout to relive the best times of your life and pay tribute to one special classmate who left us much to soon.
At 1 a.m. I awoke in a cold sweat and proceeded to experience a break down brought on by too many decisions to make and my habit of taking bad advice and the easy way out.
I won’t go into details but suffice it to say I had been spiraling out of control for weeks and had reached the edge if my sanity, if not the universe, A small puff would have blown me beyond Earth’s gravitational pull, and I would have sailed off to another planet – without my lipstick or my peanut butter – the two things I will never go without.
Years ago, I began keeping a daily “journal”. Frankly that’s just a pop culture word for “diary”. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t use that journal to rant about what needs ranting about and listing all the small miracles – aka blessings – that are imbedded in each day.
At first, I bought expensive leather-bound blank books in which to record my observations, and the things I wrote were designed to make me sound like a cross between Martha Stewart and Ann Landers.
What? Politically correctness has finally run amuck. Now women are offended by wolf whistles and cat calls? Are those women also offended by marriage proposals and dates?
Apparently so if you watched the news yesterday. Women all over the country were whining about these unsolicited gestures that “bombard” them while walking city streets. Oh pity the abomination!
Well, weh weh, you cry babies. Stand tall and savor the satisfaction of knowing someone appreciates the way you look. I mean why else do we spend hours on our hair and