This has been a year! It seems like everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. Except the election. Anyway, I am prepared to use January 1, 2021 as a great time to start over. I will do two years in one. I'm 75 now and there aren't too many years left so I am starting early. Or late, or whatever.

There was a time

Nobody told me what it was like to grow old. Or even to grow up. I always believed in the goodness of people and that the love of family was important. I suppose that depends on your family. But, I have been disabused of that notion in spades. So now I don't worry about what I say or how I say it because the person I hoped to understand me has become persona non grata in my life. So I'll now devolve into the bitch I was always meant to be. 

Growing old doesn't happen in thoughts. I don't think any older than I ever have. Except with the comics. I now read Crankshaft(crotchety old dude) and understand completely. Otherwise no change. I like the same clothes. And I won't let my hair get gray. I would but my gray looks like mud. So I am again blonding. My body won't. It just won't. I heard that when you turn 40 everything hurts. At 75 I'm way past that. Goodness knows I try to get up without sounding like a mad cow. And I love to bend over. That swimmy head thing is a great high. For a short time. I also have begun to pee like a racehorse between the hours of 12 and 3 at night. I am having dreams of doing fun things like camping and having great trips. So aging is not helping. Then there is covid. Did you know that wearing a mask is hard for someone who is already short of breath? And I drool in the mask sometimes. God forbid that I cough in it. I would blow out the false teeth and hope the mask catches them. 

I also have read lots of articles on how to be stylish after 40, or 50, or 60. Vuitton, Max Mara, Gucci. That is the way to go. Of course, my way to go is Dollar General and Walmart. I am a firm believer that a 75 year old overweight woman needs to make up her own mind. I could try to wear skinny jeans. I giggle at the thought. And Dad sneakers are the ugliest things I have ever seen. I wear a size 10  shoe and I would feel like a clown in them. Jeans that only come up to the hips? I have seen them on overweight girls. OH MY!!!!

So this is my first take on aging. More to come.

I'm trying

I have spent the last 74 years wondering when I will feel at ease. At one with myself. At ease in my skin. And I have come up empty every time. I go to the what to wear after 50 and get angry. I look at the things they say an older person shouldn't wear and get angrier. And then I look at myself and I see that the things that are a no-no are not for me. I am not that person. My life does not include trips to the fancy restaurants. Nor does it have friends who love the latest fashion. While I do love handbags, I don't find the Chanel or Kors a need. Instead I love to find a bag that is me. And I love to find a look that does not need a special belt or hugely popular shoes to make me happy. I am actually very happy when I look in the mirror and see me, in my own persona. I have decided that I am not a typical older woman nor am I trying to be a typical younger woman. I love the look of long, wavy, gray hair. But my hair won't do that. I love the look of the fashionable younger woman with hip bones that show. Mine don't. I love the soft look of ruffles, and of florals and of quiet jewelry. But it isn't me. I am not able to carry those looks off. I live in a part of the country that is very consevative and as much as I would like to go with the artsy look, I find that I care entirely too much about the opinions of others. So, I've come to the conclusion that I must go with what I like and not worry too much about the opinions of others. If I look in the mirror and smile, that is it for the day. So there.

Still waiting

Waiting for a face mask. Waiting for warm weather. Waiting for this pandemic to be over so I can go outside. Waiting for people to become smart enough to do the social distancing. Waiting for the government to act properly. Waiting for an opportunity to wear my new keds out somewhere. Waiting for a relaxing visit to the grocery store. Or walmart. Or somewhere that isn't home.

I'm finding myself more and more reluctant to put on makeup, clothes, and to fix my hair, skin, nails. And more reluctant to control my eating. And more reluctant to even go outside. This sux

Waiting

I've been waiting to take a picture to post. I've been waiting to lose weight to take a picture. I've been waiting to get better at putting on makeup to take a picture. I've been waiting for a clean house to take a picture in. I'm 74 and soon to be 75. Waiting is getting to be a problem. So I'll try to post even in spite of waiting. Oh, and now the virus is making me think I'd better not wait.