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.

It is amazing

It is amazing how a day can go from fine to fucked in an instant.

New......!!!!!

I am trying to come back from utter failure of faith. I am in a wonderful relationship and I am reasonably healthy. So why the fear, FEAR, of failure? I am fighting off the idea that although I love to make things and paint and sew, no one will want my creations. I am, unfortunately, in need of money to ease the cost of retirement. I know I can create. But can I create things that other people will want? I have stayed away from the blog because of fear. I can't say anything anyone wants to hear. I have seen so many wonderful things made by others and I can't imagine doing better work than is already being done. But I shall try to make others understand where my thoughts affect my jewelry creations. And I will trust anyone who still follows my blog to tell me when I mess up.

New pic coming soon

I am pissed. I am 72 years old with a 47 year old boy friend. He is the light of my life after 29 years of togetherness. Now I find that he is not telling others that I am his girlfriend. Afraid of being made fun of. pissed off. Now. Really.

Older, and older.

I'm here to recommend a new timetable for being old. I'm 72 and I'm going to get a little dirty now.

I still like sex.

I still have sex.

I still look at men if they are my sort of handsome.

I still want to feel sexy.

I still want to be intimate with my love of 29 years.

He is a lot younger than I.

I feel lucky to have a really loving relationship.

I have noticed that in some ways my feelings are the same as when I was 15.

If anyone has wondered about old, I suppose this answers one of the questions for some.