MY March Madness Bracket

Thirty six, treinta y seis, trente-six, trentasei... my birthday number for the year. I've officially graduated to the "box" that insinuates if you're 36 then you might as well be 40... Ya know, in questionnaires I've moved from the 20-25 girl years of spontaneous road trips, FINALLY legally buying alcohol and no worry times. In the 26-30 bracket, it was a less girl to more woman transformation- marriage, a real career, buying a home, having my first baby. Onward and ripping through 31-35, another wonderful baby then the girl in me disappeared and life turned quite serious. Major changes, significant losses. All woman, no girl and unrelenting pressure. Now to drop that bracket and check the 36-40 box, the "age" of my attitude adjustment.

I've always loved my birthday and never dreaded gaining a year, I look younger than my chronological age, or so I've heard. I've always been on the athletic side. "Ohh, that will change when you hit 30" I was told. Well, I had a baby at 30 and shrunk back to my "below average" weight. I had another baby, and again, went right back to my pre-baby weight without ever hitting the gym. God bless genetics. Now before you smack me, please note that the only guarantee in life is that things are constantly changing... well, and that you will die some day, but I digress. Peculiar things happened between my 35th and 36th year, and here are some nitpicking observations.

YEARS ago I saw a Golden Girl's episode where my fave, Blanche, said all women KNOW that missionary is the ONLY favorable position. When questioned, she suggested that her face still looked flawless in that position and is a sore sight when she's "on top." Last week, I leaned OVER a mirror on the counter to tweeze my brows and about fell over. Wowwy!! I had NO idea, my face could even LOOK like that. Cartoonishly scary. Go try it, seriously. I'll wait.......

Quietly over the last couple of years, I've put on about 15 pounds. I needed to gain a few and like it for the most part. I actually have a decent bosom, something that was nonexistent in the "stick years." Post-child nursing, I've learned the importance of "push-up" bras (not padded!) to get the girls back up where they belong. And I actually have a booty. None of the women in my family have a butt, literally. My family is FULL of flat-ass women, it's the trademark. I may get kicked out of the club for this. I kinda like my mirror reflection... but this is enough, NO MORE!

I recently started running. First, my right foot started hurting- no surprise- I've had foot surgery. Changed up the shoes and at it again. Now my knee is filled with a chronic ache... along with the foot. I had to add some jamming music in my ears to drown out my panting and gasping for air as I felt each step pound the pavement. It shocked me when I heard my breathing in the momentary silence between songs. I'm surprised the neighbors haven't called an ambulance as of yet.

For my bracket, there's no specific fashion division. You can either go too young and foolishly dress like a teenager or into the world of elastic waistbands, cardigans, and Dr. Scholls. Where does a 36-40 woman find age appropriate, and yet FUN clothing... and on a single mom's budget?!? My aunt gave the BEST advice a few years ago. She told me to show as much skin as I want NOW because there'll be a time that I'll want to cover it up. I never knew what she meant... but I'm getting the hint now. My skin is changing. I am developing laugh lines, frown lines, curious lines, fine lines. Sun/age spots are popping by to say hello.... admittedly, I did nothing to stave those off in my teens and twenties. I naturally have jet black hair and look better with a little sun. Without it and considering black is my favorite clothing color, I look like a gothic cult ringleader. So back to the clothing dilemma, no short-shorts here but fitted clothing not requiring an orange peel for removal are a go. Then heels for dressier nights out. I can't believe I used to fear heels. Wearing them makes me feel "pulled together" and grown up. I don't feel like such a child, my legs look killer long, and the posterior looks better. Still, heels make my running foot hurt... I may have to stop running....

Unladylike noises. Hey now! Stop thinking THAT way! I was talking about those ridiculous noises made when getting off the floor, squatting down to reach the bottom shelf at the grocery, picking your child up to put them in the car... uhhh or ughh sounding noises. I catch myself doing it all the time. Is there a timer in my uhhh brain I can shut off for a while to silence that??

Other random aging thoughts: I have to dye my hair. I have WHITE sprouts that MUST be concealed. As a bonus, once the color begins to fade, those white hairs tricked black actually reflect as little brown. Bam, instant highlights! As for makeup, I get LOST in the foundation department scrutinizing each bottle's guarantee for "age defying, pore concealing, line refining" tricks. After 10 grueling minutes, I make my purchase only to later find it was the wrong tint. Grrrr! How am I supposed to guess this by looking at a "swatch" on the shelf label?! Can you tell single mom budget prevails here too?!? And on that note, I purchased the generic Oil of Olay to save a buck only to cringe later. It read "Beauty Fluid"... Why in the sam hell would they call it fluid?!? Maybe it's my offbeat humor, but it sounds disgusting!! Works the same though, fyi.

I could fill this with changes (my hair's not as curly, nails are more brittle, fingers are bonier, etc) but it must stop somewhere! I only recently started noticing fashion, hair, makeup, and the like. Single woman-dom will do that. I don't run out and buy "must-haves" but I do notice. Thank goodness everything changes- the bad times, fashion boos, uneven haircuts (something I am experiencing right now). Being stagnant can be dangerous. People SHOULD change with age and (hopefully) new, insightful wisdom is along for the ride. Now I have another year to enjoy and more birthday candles to blow out. Keep the oxygen tank handy!

What The Funk?!?

March. Waaahooooo! Spring. About time!! Warm. When??? Now I'm going to sound like that 80 yr old pocket change jingler, but awful strange weather we are having. Seriously where is the sun, warm weather, birds spreading their wings after a long winter? Hellllo Mother Nature, did you sleep through your alarm? Hit the snooze? Do you need a reminder? I can shoot you a text, call your cell? Are you on Facebook? Twitter? I'd even log back on to Myspace if that's where you're hiding. I'm sorry, but your performance as of late is simply not acceptable. And between us, your ass would get a pink slip if it were up to me. I can not wear these bulky sweaters one more day and my feet miss the way it feels to slide between crisp cotton sheets without fuzzy socks running interference. So please NOW and I'll let you keep your job... but don't expect a raise this year.

Cleaning out my little walk-in, my seasonal routine, I happily bagged up winter items still donning tags and hit the return lines. I can't "do" winter any longer. I've redecorated my living room from deep reds and tans to whimsical blues. I've changed candles to light and airy, I've stacked up closet "keepers" to bag for the attic. Without further delay, I set out to resuscitate my stale, stuffy closet. Bundled in a wool coat with gloves dangling from the pockets, you will see me smiling into a store mirror with oversized sunglasses hiding my mid-30's eye wrinkles. And next briskly pushing them on top of my head. My sunglasses are multi-purpose: the obvious- eye protection with an air of sophistication and the elementary- to function as a headband... can't slip or worse, stretch! Shedding fuzzy socks, I'm pulling pant legs up to admire the newest spring sandals.... ohhh, and maybe those open-toe heels too. Next up, check out the dressing room. With winter layers piled in a corner and a mirror reflecting one pale body, I'm scrutinizing one of the five two-piece bathing suits I adored. Ugh, not this one- the material doesn't even begin to cover my butt, oh this one makes me look flat as a pancake up top, this one is just plain strange, what size is this one because it can't be tagged right... Oh yeah, most definitely need to do sit-ups again and lay off winter baking and get a tan and then this last one will do.

Maybe I'm fast tracking but a summer of cute sundresses, little skirts with tanks, alive colors, and fun blouses is waiting... so close that I can almost grab it. I'm ready to feel like a "girl" and not a coat rack, footloose and carefree, shed those blahs and emotions of one hard never-ending winter, wear brilliant colors to make my eyes sparkle, put a little rose on the cheeks... In all honesty, I legitimately have seasonal affect disorder, unaffectionately referred to as the funk. By the time February hits, I'm struggling with my other personality- Queen Grouch. I shouldn't live in an area with four true seasons. I would be thrilled with only one. A decorated palm tree for Christmas suits me juuuuuust fine. I love windows open with curtains blowing, deck time with friends.... yum, the smell of the grill!!!! Sunshine cures the madness, homegrown fruits and vegetables, hair thrashing wildly in a breezy car, my kids crashing into dreams after a hard day's play outside, flip flops and pink toenails, birds chirping good morning, the smell of freshly cut grass.... I can see myself running through a field of daisies as I type this. HELP, Mother Nature I am losing it! Fix it now and your job's not in jeopardy, my imagination was just on defrost, now please show everyone just how magnificent you.... and me in a cute little sundress.... can be!

Woman Puhlease!

It's a snowy day on my patch of the world. It's not overly burdensome- from a few to several inches depending which direction you drive. While working through the night, I watched the snow start, climax, and flurry off. As dayshift nurses arrived, I heard a repeating theme- "my husband/dad/brother had to bring me because the roads were so bad." Ummm, why can't we get our own petutties through the snow? I pondered this as I hightailed it home at a riproaring 35 miles per hour. I mean, I once spent time convincing EX to chauffeur me and yet, I was the better driver. Did I not want to be alone, did I feel more protected, did I just not want the blame if I wrecked MY car??? Alas, being single again forces you to get over it real quick and offers a private chuckle to past driving miss Daisy moments.

To help snub the fear, here's a short list of events one may do that is much more daring than wheelin' through the white stuff.

If you can tweeze your eyebrows, you can drive in snow.
If you can birth a baby, you can drive in snow.
If you can dance in high heels, you can drive in snow.
If you can trim your dog's nails, you can drive in snow.
If you can balance your checkbook, you can drive in snow.
If you can unclog an overused toilet, you can drive in snow.
If you can handle sand in your swimsuit, you can drive in snow.
If you can deal with being waxed, you can drive in snow.
If you can pull out splinters, you can drive in the snow.
If you can take care of everyone else when you're damn near your death bed, you can drive in snow.
If you can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan, you can drive in snow!!!

Ooookay, you get my "drift." Don't be so nervous. So what if you spin a little... it's kind of fun to "let loose." You, woman, can do anything so gas it up and go!

Her Randomness

A Girl Should Be Two Things:

Classy and Fabulous.

~From Coco Chanel herself.

But reminds me distinctly of Audrey .


Welcome to my restless and rambling stage. Here's a sampling of trivial things that keep my mind ping ponging.

One of my favorite sayings:
I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, but now I go topless. Well, that just threw "classy" out the window.... but isn't it fabulous?!?!? I've been told a time or two lately that I'm heartless. Not that at all, it's just well protected these days!

Do men have a "nesting" period?? I've witnessed this with a few single, male friends. It happens at 2 different stages- on the brink of turning 40 and as winter approaches. Bizarre behavior... reminds me of watching a squirrel gather nuts. Maybe it's their revelation that their self-created life is a little chilly. Here, they toy with the idea of having a +1. Wonder if it's lasting or just a momentary crisis. Just looking for an explanation.....

I admantly say I will never be swept off my feet- too much of a realist now. Doesn't happen, fantasy world! But deep down, it would be nice to have the RIGHT equally madly "in like" with me man come take me away. So, how can Prince Charming ride to my rescue if I knock him down before he even mounts his horse? ... and I wonder if the horse would mind having 2 child car seats strapped to the sides....

We are all a work in progress. It's good to pause occasionally to check where your arrow is pointing. Turns out, my compass needed adjustment. Note to self: "Settling" is not an option.

Definition of assertive: confidently aggressive or self-assured; positive: aggressive; dogmatic
Hmm, surprising.. tilts to the negative... Sorry dictionary.com but assertive is NOT aggressive. Regardless, it's my new self help topic. I talk to myself about it and it helps!!

Why do people think all nurses want to marry a doctor? Many have innocently asked if I know any doctors to date. Umm, no. You won't find me at the nurse's station in my little white- just barely covering my ass- dress waiting to flirt with a doc. Rather, you're likely to find poo on my pants from a patient's colonoscopy prep and griping about what a jerk some MD was when I had to call him at 3 am.* Working my unit is more like being a contestant on Fear Factor than a speed dating participant.
*This statement does exclude my dear friend Krishna who is nothing less than a perfect physician and dear spouse of my best friend.

My spinning wheels have officially went down the toilet. Coming soon: Peace, love, and shimmies!