Getting older and trying to stay pretty…dang!

When I was about twelve I saw an Oil Of Olay commercial in which a devastatingly beautiful woman, probably in her thirties said,” I don’t intend to grow old gracefully, I intend to fight it every step of the way.” That, my friends, is my mantra. My mother in law has been trying to tell me I am getting older and need to accept my adult limitations since I became a mother in my twenties. I say phooey to that! So I still wear a two piece swimsuit (not a string bikini, I was never that much of an exhibitionist, even at sixteen), I love rock music (hate rap- always did), and I love the sun. There lies the rub. I love to bake. I love to swim, bike, and float. I love to read outside. My forehead looks like some crazy speckled brown chicken egg with creases across it. That’s why I wear bangs. Sometimes I consider growing out my bangs, then I pull my hair back and take a good look at what the sun has done to my forehead and I know I am doomed to banged hairstyles until I just do not care anymore.

Last fall I had my hair braided at the renaissance festival. The large frizzy haired earth mother asked me if I wanted my bangs braided in or left down. “Down,” I tell her,” I am not ready to show the world my awful speckled wrinkled forehead!” She laughed and told me I would eventually get over it and not care.

I am pretty sure she is wrong.

I know that true beauty comes from the spirit within, and that “pretty is as pretty does.” I try really hard to be kind and positive (really, I cannot imagine any more damaging ager that negativity). However, I also think I would like to be one of those ladies who can rock heels and an age appropriate pencil skirt, whose skin is smooth and moisturized, and whose aura oozes confidence and magnetism.

I’ll let you know when I get there.


So here I am!


Entering the world of the blog. Now, for a techno-phobe such as myself, this is major. I hate computers. I hate them with a passion. But I find myself, at the age of 45, having to redefine myself. No, not having to, wanting to. Here is how I have seen myself my whole life:

A singer and actress. A wife and mother. A teacher (though at times a reluctant one).

Due to circumstances I just do not feel like whining about just now, I don’t sing anymore. I don’t talk well.

My marriage is solid, my kids are leaving home.

So who the hell am I?

I remember that I was identified as a singer from the time I was tiny. My beloved Uncle Steve, a choral director and performer with the voice of a tenor angel,  sat me on his knee and made me promise I would sing. And I did. Beautifully.

Now I don’t.

So I am at a crossroads. I need a new creative outlet. This shall be it. Hopefully I will find a nugget that can turn into something big. Something significant. Something transformative.

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