I’m feeling out 37, seeing what’s different from 36. I figure 30 days is a good amount of time to make some observations.
- Is my skin mature? No matter what I do, my skin feels scaly and flaky. I’m not going to say that I have the best diet. I mean I DID smash two ice cream cookie sandwiches to help myself sleep Sunday night. I justified it by saying the ice cream was fat-free and I made the cookies from scratch. Anyway, this skin thing is crazy weird. I’m fast approaching seeing a dermatologist or the Clinique counter. Not quite, but almost.
- Excedrin is my friend. I don’t know what happened to my back, but now I find myself sleeping with a pillow between my knees or under my stomach. The Hero says I need to stretch more after I take my walks and he’s probably right, but jeez…. How long do I need to stretch? I devote what seems like 30 minutes of stretching for 10 minutes of walking. And who does the sleeping with a pillow thing? Granted, I feel right as rain in the morning, but sheesh! Maybe it’s time for a sleep number bed.
- Crotchety feels good. I’m morphing into that neighbor that doesn’t like any noise. Not even the sound of your breathing. I dream about the time when I can move to a retirement community where there are no residents allowed under age 55 and the noise policies are strictly enforced.
- The mommy pouch. Ah yes. I’ve spent a good portion of the last 16.5 years trying to get rid of this thing, but in the last 30 days, I find myself embracing it in what I wear. I’m not super obsessed with it anymore and I don’t automatically suck it in or swat The Hero when he touches it. I’ve even considered a bikini-type swim suit for the first time in my life.
- Redefined images of beauty. We’re bombarded with these pubescent boy model images all the time. If not that, then the thin-yet-curvy types that not a lot of us are able or willing to put the time into achieving. I had the great idea to find images of women who look more like me and post them on my closet door. There is nothing wrong with a few extra pounds and at my current dress size, I would have been considered average in the Marilyn Monroe days. Let’s get the movement in full effect.
- New ways of looking at old people. I usually have this epiphany a couple of times a year, but in the last 30 days I actually did something with it. I know I box people into categories, but I realized I never give them a pass to move freely between boxes. And although no one at work looks like me or has even an inkling of a similar background, we have some interesting things in common. Why not go spoon diving?
- Not complaining about the compliments. Even the ones from the homeless guy sleeping in the bus shelter. Or the 15-year-old with the 2″ inseam and colorful boxers. I used to feel that certain elements of men shouldn’t compliment me because they weren’t on my level. What I realized is I don’t care who says I look great because they just made an obvious statement. In my entire life, I can’t recall one moment when either I or the rogue complimentor stopped and made arrangements to get together. A compliment is a compliment and I accept them all gracefully. Thank you, Smelly Bus Man. You made my day.
- Being afraid of saying where I am in aspects of my life. This is really a personal journey. I already know that I don’t want the traditional American Dream, but I have to be able to resist other social ‘norms’ that I fall victim to. A week ago, I asked myself some seriously profound questions. I haven’t answered them yet, but I know there’s a corner coming in my life. I’m ready to turn.
- Staying in the moment. I’m in no way saying I’m there completely, but I find myself stopping some of the monkey thoughts and consciously trying to stay in what I’m doing or feeling right now. Sometimes it works and other times, the little monkey keeps on bangin’ the cymbals.
There are plenty of other things I noticed in the last month, but I’ll wait for the 60-day review for those. Suffice to say, I like 37.