Don’t remember the name of the song I got the title of today’s post from, just remember it being sung by Diana Ross. I wasn’t ever a fan of her signing, but having grown up with audiophiles, there was a LOT of music played in my life; I was born in the late 60’s so the Motown sound was pretty much the sound track of my life as a kid.
Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing today. Well, not exactly. I’ve got a birthday coming up. It’s not a milestone birthday but it moves me closer to one. A major one. And what’s kicking around in my head at this moment, is the ponderance of how in the world I ended up here?
No, wait, that’s not the main idea the voices in my head are discussing. No, they’re thinking about our life just a few short years ago. When we were 45. We’re all coming to the conclusion that we hit some sort of peak during that particular jaunt around the sun. We’d been building up to it since turning 30, but we really hit our stride between 35 and 45. That was the decade when we felt sexy (despite being somewhat out of shape), wore the fiercest heels and dare I admit, the shortest skirts ;-). We felt good in our body if not our circumstances. Granted, we consumed a LOT of alcohol during that time. Hmmmm. Anyway, despite the debt, the vanishing hair-line, and the lack of a stable, healthy, romantic relationship, we were awesome.
Then came 47. This past year (and I’m going to drop the ‘we’…it’s weird to talk about myself and all my personalities at the same time) brought about what I believe to be the first twinges that come with age. Those subtle aches and pains, the stiffness when I first get up in the morning. I seem to be more aware of what might cause me to fall than I’ve ever been in my life. And seriously, where did all this weight come from? Why does my body seem to demand an afternoon siesta right after work? There’s now a rather lengthy recovery time after I’ve managed a really good work out or moving anything of significant weight – and you know I’m still trying to lift and carry crap despite the slight decrease in my physical strength (or the pain in my knees and back).
I don’t feel sexy or desirable any more. I think that’s what I miss the most. I still have the heels, I still have the short skirts, but because of the seemingly sudden changes to my physique – all these damn extra inches – I only feel comfortable in my jeans. I feel…well, frumpy. Quite the opposite of sexy I must say. sigh
So, what is one to do in order to, as Justin (Timberlake, not Beiber….gack) once sang, “Bring sexy back?” And should I even want to as I make my way steadily to the big Five-Oh (as in 50 years, not Hawaii, lol)?
I tell you what I am going to do. I am going to work at getting rid of these extra inches. I’ve never wanted to be built (oh I’m just all over the song lyrics today; thank you India Arie) like a super model but I do want my clearly defined curves back. I’ve had a classic hour-glass figure since college when puberty FINALLY figured out what to do with me. Even when I felt “out of shape” I was still able to declare measurements that were in proportion to the 36-24-36 image. At my peak, I was 38-28-40 :-). I may not get back to that, but I think I can do a sight better than the 40-38-48 (approx.) I’m sporting now.
I talk a lot to other people about speaking positivity into existence. Not that I believe affirmations and such work (that’s for another post), but I do believe that the more positivity you send into your world, the more positive you feel. I admonish my friends when I hear them talking negatively about themselves. I mean, I’ve heard (and done it myself) folks say things about themselves that they would have killed someone else for saying about them. To that end, I’ve made it a point to thank my body for its wonderful years of service so far. I do occasionally rub my belly (which I affectionately refer to as my Buddha) and tell it that the fat its storing really isn’t needed, but that I love how it’s thinking of my survival should we find ourselves having to go without food altogether for any length of time. I thank my thighs for the warming friction they create when I walk and the loving way they fit so tightly together so as to prevent anything from ascending to my more vulnerable vaginal area. I haven’t quite found any positive things to say to the back fat, but I still give it loving attention when I’m showering and then again whilst rubbing on the lotion.
I love my body in all it’s bumpy, lumpy, saggy, glory. But I want my curves back. I want to once again be able to fasten my corsets without my daughter’s help (we look like the sisters in the movie, Meet Me in St. Louis when they’re getting dressed for the big dance). I’d like to feel strong again; able to lift my own bags at the airport without grimacing. You know, that kind of thing. I want to feel good in my clothes – might have to give up the short skirts as they’re not all that attractive on a woman of age…wait, who am I kidding? With the right kind of legs, I can follow in Tina Turner’s footsteps and wear those minis till I’m damn near in my 70’s ;-). Heels too for that matter.
Well, without all the shackles, and slave references. Let’s not get stupid. Doubt that I’ll be blowing up any hotel rooms either, but eh…I am planning to have a “blast” for the 50th. That was lame. Sorry, should have quite while I was ahead. LOL