I Enjoy Being a Girl........The Fear

  Last night I had my hair done.  The more I looked into the mirror, the worse I felt about myself; and not just physically.  I'm sixty years old and still dealing with the juvinile battle of what beauty is and trying to be skinny. All we have really, here in the US, are hollywood people telling us how beauty is defined.  Now, to be honest, they have a point.  It's been said that facial beauty has a lot to do with facial symmetry.  That makes sense to me, but not so sure I totally believe it all.  And of course we know about body image and weight. 

However, I think it's time to redefine beauty, at least in my life.  I can't keep up.  Even Joan Rivers can't keep up no matter how hard she tries. She must know, as I think shes's an intelligent woman, that she lives behind a self inflicted mask.




I remember in my forties, it was then I began, yet again, to be militant with myself.  I realized that men actually did put beauty as a number one priority when searching for women.  By now, my kids were almost grown and all that I had left to deal with was me.   I noticed that I didn't like me very much.  I was overweight by quite a lot and lost inside of a body that wasn't serving me well.  I felt lost.  It wasn't just the beauty factor either.  It was much more complicated than that.  Lucky me though, when I am upset, I can't eat.  Although I had already been on regime to take care of myself, lose the weight and get healthy, I had some upsets in my life, beginning with losing my father,  ten years later my mother, and to top it all off, some major issues in my marrige of twenty five years. I lost my appetite for food.  No, I didn't get anorexic and skinny,  I just lost about sixy pounds over ten years and was at my goal weight. By now I was in my fifties and  weighed what I did in high school.  It actually felt pretty darn good. 

I made up for my 'large' years in my forties. It was fun buying most any kind of outfit and having it fit wonderfully.  But all things pass, and although I didn't gain all of the weight back, I did gain some.  And now, at sixty, I still want to be that tiny.  Yet, my thinking is far different in this stage of my life.  I'm not so sure I totally care enough to do a lot about it. My body is rebelling against the idea of working out; working out hard for an hour five times a week.  It's telling me it might do three times a week.....just maybe.








I think that I'm writing this because I'm wondering what life will be like for my granddaughter when she's older. 



She's this happy little eight year old, dancing to WII, jumping on the trampoline, hates having her hair combed and could care less about what she wears as long as it's comfortable.  Oh..Did I mention she's beautiful? Totally beautiful!  And no, I'm not saying that because she's my granddaughter. I know, however, that soon, she'll be made aware of what all the money makers want her to be aware of;  "If you don't buy OUR products", you may wind up looking like a goat, or a pig, or (gasp gasp)  an individual with a sense of ownership and pride of her own beauty!!!

Okay, I'm absolutely not saying that being overweight is just fine and beautiful.  Because it's really not.  Health is beautiful!  Weighing in a little over or under what some health professionals say is a healthy weight could be the best thing. As long as one is taking care of one's body.  At least that's my opinion.  Yet the most high profile people who set trends, they are stick thin and whether they are conscious of it or not, they promote being skinny. 











Another thing that the money powers that be define as beauty are fake breasts, (they don't move...they stay plastered to one spot on the chest), hair that is long and sort of curled back, thick lips, and of course a perfect body.  And don't even think of having a nose with a bump....


There are so many girls and women that have a messed up body image.  They look at themselves in the mirror and see a skinny person if they are fat, or a fat person if they are skinny. 







W


Who do we blame for introducing us to this obsession?  Some women blame men but I think that's a cop out.  Men actually have pressures to be a certain way too. Whether it's having money, or looking a certain way, men feel the pressure too. 








Maybe if we woke up and thought for ourselves that would take care of the outside pressure and lead the way to a brand new trend of acceptance.  Maybe if we thought about our talents and worked on bringing those out and using those to our fullest advantage, just maybe that would change this mega force that is focused on physical looks. 

I believe  Adele is one of those women who has done just that.  God bless you Adele!




My father always used to say, "You're the pretty one."  That was it.  I was beautiful.  Not intelligent.  Not talented.  Not a good singer.  I was the "pretty" one.  I was also a daddy's girl, I loved my daddy.  He was a very talented singer and actor.  He had a day job; he chose to be married and have a family rather than pursue his dream of acting and singing for a living. He did however, sing in a band, and act locally.  I remember when he would  be getting ready for a gig, He was in the bathroom shaving, doing voice exercises to prepare.  I'd sit on the lid of the toilet just watching him  He was my hero....and I was the pretty one.  hmmmmmmm Maybe that's why, at my age, I so love and relate to Lily Allen's song,    "The Fear".....................


The Fear"

I want to be rich and I want lots of money
I don't care about clever I don't care about funny
I want loads of clothes and fuckloads of diamonds
I heard people die while they are trying to find them

And I'll take my clothes off and it will be shameless
'Cause everyone knows that's how you get famous.

I'll look at the sun and I'll look in the mirror
I'm on the right track, yeah I'm on to a winner.

I don't know what's right and what's real anymore
And I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore
And when do you think it will all become clear?
'Cause I'm being taking over by The Fear

Life's about film stars and less about mothers
It's all about fast cars and cussing each other
But it doesn't matter cause I'm packing plastic
And that's what makes my life so fucking fantastic

And I am a weapon of massive consumption
And it's not my fault it's how I'm programmed to function

Forget about guns and forget ammunition
'Cause I'm killing them all on my own little mission
Now I'm not a saint but I'm not a sinner
Now everything's cool as long as I'm getting thinner

Thanks Lily, this says it all.......when we gonna change girls???

The Little Girl Who Loses Things......

So, my son and I were having a very deep conversation about God, Jesus and confessing your sins.  I confess this: I should have kept my little cat indoors.  I shouldn't have let her outside.  But I did because I have a dog door for my dog and didn't close it; I didn't want my dog to pee in the house.  Thus, I lost my cat to probably a coyote. Or, I lost her to my laziness. This has all just come about in the last 24 hours so I will just vent.  I feel like &^%$!  I feel very negative right now...thinking things like Arizona is a crappy, wild place, unlike the soft midwest where all you have to think about is taking cover when tornado seasons happen.

I didn't have Berbie, our cat, but a a few weeks really, as she was a Christmas gift from my husband.  Now she is gone, I have lost her. Since I was a teenager there has been this theme of losing things in my life.  I had said the poem "The Little Girl Who Lost Things" by George MacDonald was MY poem.  My husband poo-pooed me about it and thought how juvenile the poem seemed.  I resented him for thinking that way.  Still, I think that the poem is about me.

There was a girl that lost things—
Nor only from her hand;
She lost, indeed—why, most things,
As if they had been sand!

She said, "But I must use them,
And can't look after all!
Indeed I did not lose them,
I only let them fall!"

That's how she lost her thimble,
It fell upon the floor:
Her eyes were very nimble
But she never saw it more.

And then she lost her dolly,
Her very doll of all!
That loss was far from jolly,
But worse things did befall.

She lost a ring of pearls
With a ruby in them set;
But the dearest girl of girls
Cried only, did not fret.

And then she lost her robin;
Ah, that was sorrow dire!
He hopped along, and—bob in—
Hopped bob into the fire!

And once she lost a kiss
As she came down the stair;
But that she did not miss,
For sure it was somewhere!

Just then she lost her heart too,
But did so well without it
She took that in good part too,
And said—not much about it.

But when she lost her health
She did feel rather poor,
Till in came loads of wealth
By quite another door!

And soon she lost a dimple
That was upon her cheek,
But that was very simple—
She was so thin and weak!

And then she lost her mother,
And thought that she was dead;
Sure there was not another
On whom to lay her head!

And then she lost her self—
But that she threw away;
And God upon his shelf
It carefully did lay.

And then she lost her sight,
And lost all hope to find it;
But a fountain-well of light
Came flashing up behind it.

At last she lost the world:
In a black and stormy wind
Away from her it whirled—
But the loss how could she mind?

For with it she lost her losses,
Her aching and her weeping,
Her pains and griefs and crosses,
And all things not worth keeping;

It left her with the lost things
Her heart had still been craving;
'Mong them she found—why, most things,
And all things worth the saving.

She found her precious mother,
Who not the least had died;
And then she found that other
Whose heart had hers inside.

And next she found the kiss
She lost upon the stair;
'Twas sweeter far, I guess,
For ripening in that air.

She found her self, all mended,
New-drest, and strong, and white;
She found her health, new-blended
With a radiant delight.

She found her little robin:
He made his wings go flap,
Came fluttering, and went bob in,
Went bob into her lap.

So, girls that cannot keep things,
Be patient till to-morrow;
And mind you don't beweep things
That are not worth such sorrow;

For the Father great of fathers,
Of mothers, girls, and boys,
In his arms his children gathers,
And sees to all their toys.

By George MacDonald, © 2004, All rights reserved.







I'm waiting for to-morrow.

Four Months Into Sixty

I've been 60 now for almost 4 months and yes, it is different than 59, or any other number for that matter. 





I realize, I mean really realize that most of my life is now behind me and, well....uh..death is closer than ever before.  I mean sure, death is always ahead of you and yes, we always are one day closer to death..yada yada yada.  However, turning 60 has changed my thoughts.  I wanted to compete with women in their 30's when I was in my early 50's, and I confess, even my mid and late 50's.  Now, it really doesn't seem to matter anymore.  Is it freeing?  Not really.  Is it oppressive, no, not at all.  I guess the best thing that I can say it is, is that it's just time passing.  I realize now, more than ever, that time is, indeed, passing.  That all things pass in time; the good the bad and the ugly. 

I was thinking about the year 2060.  I calculated that my grand-daughter would still be alive and thriving in her 50's.  I also calculated that I would be long gone.  Soooo odd! All those cliches and poems about life being a drop in the bucket of life and so on...they are beginning to totally make sense.  I mean I knew thos things were true, but only in my mind.  Now, I know them in my heart. 



Getting older is strange.  I don't feel old, but yet when I look back at all that I've experienced it's like I'm  a cat with nine lives.  Still, there is so much more I'd like to do.  Not that I can't do more, it's just that life truly belongs to the young. People in our society and other societies for that matter, expect their 'elders' to sort of retire in their mid 60's. 




I would like to say that I have that luxury, but I don't. So when I'm talking about being 'young'..I'm talking about job security and things like that.  I never used to even think of things like that.  Not until I turned 60.

Are there good things about 'aging'??? Of course.  I'm so much more at peace with myself.  My daughter and I were talking tonight about being around people who are at peace with themselves and who are not. I think being at peace with yourself is accepting yourself just as you are and knowing you're good!  Knowing that you're beautiful and knowing you were made in the image of God.  And, God is love...totally love.

Soooo...being 60?  I still think about my sexuality.  Now don't start thinking tv sexuality or movie sexuality.  I mean the fact that I'm a woman.  I love beauty, I'm probably more intuitive than most men, and I desire love and harmony.  Not that all humans don't, but women I think, do so in a bigger way.



Being 60 is, yes, a bit odd, a bit scarey and I still feel not much over 30 in my mind and heart.  I'm either totally immature or most everyone feels this way.  I'm not sure, I haven't taken a poll  In any case...I'm trying to redefine 60 without all the stereo types I grew up with.  I think I"m doing a pretty good job.

Bye for now..and stay in the moment; you'll never have another one like this one.  Love!

"Notes to My Younger Self" (as inspired by another blogger.)

Another poster on Facebook blogged about writing to his younger self and that, of course, made me think of what would I tell my young self if I could...or if I  could do things over? Wow...it's almost overwhemling thinking about this. There are so many things so I'll just begin and let it flow:

Dear Younger Self,



Find that strength in you and realize it's a God given force.  Don't deny it, don't minimize it.  Use it and ponder it.  It will serve you well.

Always know that you can create a reality with intention. But, there is something way bigger than intention, and that is a personal God who loves you and is much stronger than you are.  Yes, there is someone out there that is bigger than you.

Know that things work out for the best. That's just a mystery of life that if you believe it, it's uncanny how true it really is.

You really are beautiful.

You really are intelligent, just be patient. 

You really can get what you want; just be sure it's what you want in the end. Because sometimes what you want will turn on you.








ALWAYS MOVE TOWARDS LOVE.    VE.


NEVER MOVE TOWARS FEAR OR LET IT LEAD YOU.





If you decide to have kids, DO NOT let other people tell you how to raise them.  God has given you what you need. 



Spanking a child will NEVER do what you want it to do IF you're trying to teach them something other than anger.

If you decide to marry, always remember, they are just human.  He can't save you from anything.

Get your degree....better yet, get a few degrees.  You'll never regret it.

Learn to love yourself, otherwise you'll never really be able to love others.




Exercise.





Don't eat unless you're hungry.



Always tell those you love that you love them.  You never know when it will be the last time.






Your parents are really doing the best that they can do.









Forgive yourself, forgive others.



Don't read or listen to the news.







Simon and Garfunkel were right, you can gather all the news you need from the weather report.






Take special notice of your dreams.





Know who your real friends are, they will be there for life....sometimes that's so hard to do, but eventually you'll know.





In the end, your true friends will always tell you they love you no matter what.




Blood really isn't thicker than water.






Love your children, but let them go...they're not yours.






Love your husband, but let him go, he too, is not really yours.








Know that love never goes away. Those that you loved, you will always love.

And ALWAYS ............................................

ANSWER THE PHONE!!!

All Things Left Undone

Usually I post this on fb, but tonight, I'm not going to do that.  I'm feeling way too private and nostalgic and sentimental.  Tonight I'm writing about things that could've been, would've been.  I had a boyfriend when I was young and we loved for two years.  Not long, but long enough for that formiable time of our lives.  He died young, and I was left behind.  I ddin't know how to handle being the one left here to figure out life without his love.  There were so many things left unfinished that I underestimated how deep my grief really went. 

Listening to songs, allowing myself to feel the pain, really, is sort of liberating.  I honestly don't know why it is, but it is.  Tonight I'm not going to add  a lot of visuals. I'm just going to use this medium to let whoever know that there are things, sometimes, that are always left undone, and we are left to deal with them;  no matter the damage.



goodnight all...and take care.

Lazy Sunday

Sitting here on a beautiful, lazy Sunday I'm appreciating all I have, all I have had and well...this amazing day.  I just finished cleaning my house and it feels like I've cleansed my soul.







I've rearranged some things and have hung some new artwork.  The windows have been open all day and I won't close them until the last bit of sunlight leaves...which will be soon. I have lots of mirrors in my house because of how beautifully they reflect light if postioned in the right spots. Looking across the room I see a beautiful reflection of my window which shows the trees, colorful flowers and the private wall..I love private walls in the backyard.  Makes me feel like I could go out naked and no one would see me.(from "landscaping network)

Have I said yet that I'm thankful? Because I truly am.  My life has, for sure, had it's ups and downs.  The ups have been pretty high and the downs felt like I went to the center of the earth.  But right now, I'm floating on a sweet cloud of tranquility.









(Above the Clouds by Hilda Robinson)










As this day comes to an end I'll be going to my daughter's house soon to baby sit my three,extremely gorgeous,  above average grandchildren.  This peacefulness is a little difficult to walk away from, but one can't really hang on to moments like these..that's the thing about life; you can't hang on...you have to let it all pass so that you are ready for the next moment.  The moments of my life have made me who I am.  In the last few years I have been able to get a sort of panoramic picture of "me" and how I've lived my life.  I like me.  I think I'm a pretty good person who, without the help of my God, would not have been so good.



And there ya have it.  Take care and enjoy your moments.

Dreams...Check 'Em Out!

It's been a while.  But here I am, wanting to write and trying to think of all things I told myself that I'd write about.  Go figure...can't really zero in on any of the subjects I thought of...but so be it.  I'll wing it.  A recent thread I've been participating in on fb is about dreams.  I have an old friend I respect and am fond of, who thinks that dreams are things we should just dismiss as something caused by what we eat.  Actually, I'm not so sure where he thinks the origin of our dreams come from. Me?  I'm actually a Carl Jung fan and align my 'dream beliefs' with his. 

I beleive that dreams help us figure out who we are and what sort of emotional dilema's we have not dealt with in our life.






Dreams helped me realize that there were events in my life from way back that I hadn't really dealt with so that I could have a total healing.  (If there is such a thing.)  It started when I was almost 18.  I had a boyfriend whom I had been with for two years.  I dreampt he was in a helicopter accident...and the next night he was in a jeep accident and died.  He was not driving.  It, obviously, was devastating because I loved him very much, and at that young age humans seem to be so vulnerable to most things.




 The dreams that followed were critical in my development as a person.

I had a specific dream that I will share with you:  I was visiting my boyfriends grave, cleaning and tidying up the area.  As I leaned on the headstone, it cracked and I sort of fell in. It wasn't deep, down to the coffin itself, but it was deep enough that I lost my balance and my right elbow and right side fell in. 




There, in the crevice was my birth certificate.  With that, I woke up.  "WOW"...I thought, this means something.

Not long after  I 'got saved" in the Jesus Movement.    



 At the church I attended I was taught that dreams were actually nothing  but results of spicy foods one eats.  Hmmmmmmm....It was okay by me because to actually have to delve further into my psyche was more than I could handle at the time.

Things have a way with catching up with us though.  The dream about the cememtary and my birth certificate happened soon after the Jesus movement experience. I have dreamed dreams since then that sort of led me on a journey of healing.  When I decided to take note of my dreams, everything changed...I changed. I believe that dreams are God's secret language of healing. (There's a book called just that, "Dreams, God's Secret Language"

Okay, moving on.  Studying Carl Jung and his theories sort of coincided with my journey.  As a Christian, I look to the bible as my main source.  Jung's theories never once went against anything that would deny my faith.  Actually, it was the opposite.  His theories have helped me deal with and perhaps understand something as abstract as dreams.

So, there ya have it.  In summary, I pay attention to my dreams.  Not too closely because a person dreams every night and I don't remember what I dream for the most part.  But when I do, I take note.  My "gut" tells me when I need to look into the matter of the abstract venue of the dream world

In the meantime...I have been happy with a new job as Site Director with k12 program. It's a God send for sure.  I hope all of you have a great beginning to another fabulous year.  Love you all and take care.