Everybody's Talking About It -- Is That A Good Thing?

Is it because the "boomer" generation is large in number, or am I just sensitive to the fact that anyone and everyone who is over 45 talks about getting old? At the chiropractor's office I overheard a conversation between two women who hadn't seen each other for awhile. They caught up the usual things -- recent moves, mutual friends, increasing aches and pains, and grandchildren. One woman had one grandchild and one on the way, the other didn't have any yet and relished the moment, "Now I am finally younger than everyone else -- I'm not a grandmother yet!"

Do you notice this too?

I attend a lot of college-student gatherings. Invariably every 'older' speaker is quick to mention age in one way or the other. "In 1979 when I attended college none of you were even born yet." Or, "It's really nice for you to ask someone to speak who's old enough to be your parent."

I've decided to work hard at not mentioning the OBVIOUS fact that I'm older.

A young friend of mine who is living in a new town was bemoaning the fact that she's yet to find peers to spend time with. She explained that her youngest friend is 39 "Which is refreshing," she said because, "At least I'm not dealing with my older menopausal friends who are having hot flashes." I can imagine her 'older' friends must share all the ups and downs of these uncontrollable changes that are happening to their bodies.

It helps to commiserate, but maybe it's best to share with women our own age.

As I sympathized with her difficult situation (!) I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that my menopausal condition didn't surface at that moment. And, I held my tongue. I refrained from launching into a long exposition on the true frustrations that accompany "the change". Somehow I don't think she'd be interested.

So, I'll pick my audience with care and mutter about it with whoever is willing to listen.

Limp Lips

In a day when "plump" full lips are all the rage I find mine to be perpetually chapped and colorless. For a long time I've used Mac's "long wear" lipstick and I'm wondering if I have to make a change -- it clumps up between cracks and skin and doesn't last as long. And, because it's long wear it's IMPOSSIBLE to remove. There it sits clumped on my flaky, aging lips and I can't get it off!

What's a "menopausal woman" to do?

I've been reminded, a lot lately, of my grandmother's kisses (I loved my grandma). Her lips were far from full and every kiss on my check was met with a brush of her whiskers.

I keep wondering, is that what's next??

My Hands Are Changing

I assume that if anyone reads this it's because you too are a "modern woman going through menopause." I include "modern" in my musings because women who've gone through this stage of "maturing" never could blog about it! And, I don't think they ever really talked about it either. So, I'm going to vent, rant, and "muse" with whoever wants to join me.

I chose to start today because I've noticed that my hands are changing. My husband helped me wrap some Christmas presents recently and commented, "Your hands look like your mom's." They do...my skin is wrinkley, my fingers look boney, and what once looked like freckles are surely age spots today.

Then, last night after a nice hot bath, I rubbed my hands over my face and was reminded (not for the first time) that my palms feel like sand paper. How come nobody ever told me that even the skin on your palms change?!

Plus, maybe due to overuse, but I can't really hold a pen/pencil anymore...my hand cramps up.
What's that about? Now I know why someone invented those really fat pens...remind me to put that on my list...which I'll probably forget. I'll muse about my memory another day...if I remember.

I want to "grow old gracefully" but I can honestly see why men do a better job at this than women. My husband's hands don't look that different and he's older than I am! He keeps warning me that when I turn 50 (which is right around the corner) I'll understand some of the changes he has experienced. I smile, nod my head, and wipe the sweat from my brow, face, upper lip and wonder if his hot-flashes have started yet. But, that's for another day, another blog.