WTF! This is aging?

WTF!  This is aging?  Do you think older folks discussed aging and decided not to tell the next generation what would really happen?  Because there’s a lot going on that no one told me in advance.

I turned 50 last year and all I seem to say is WTF?  This is aging?  Why didn’t someone tell me about this?  Grey hair in places that should never be grey.   Hair appearing in places it never grew or hair no longer growing in places it’s always grown.  Bulges and bumps squeezing my clothes in bold new ways.   Loss of libido due to sahara conditions in the formerly fertile plains, if you will.  WTF? Yup, aging.

To add insult to injury, it is true:  sphincter muscles are directly connected to the mouth.  I know this because too many of my  friends are now complaining that they involuntarily fart when they sneeze or worse, dribble when they laugh or sneeze.   An unfortunate few have “backyard leakage” when they sneeze or laugh. WTF?  Oh yeah, aging.

Really?  Is this old age?  The wrinkled skin and age spots wasn’t enough?  The middle-age spread?  The irregular periods of menopause?  The hot flashes or night sweats? When I was young, I looked forward to the day I’d never buy another tampon maxipad.  Each month I’d say, “I can’t wait until this is over!”  What’s the expression? Be careful what you wish for.

Because you see, there may be months where there’s no bleeding.  At first you think “oh, am I pregnant?” (knowing THAT’s not a possibility) and then it’s a joyous “maybe this is it!” And there’s no bleeding for 2, 3, maybe 4 months.  But you realize you still have PMS! The irritability (how kind!), the bloating, the moodiness and tears, the headaches, the insomnia.   It’s the kind  of PMS where you want someone to put you in a padded cell because you are a danger to yourself and society.  Slowly, ever so slowly, you realize the limbo you’re in.  There is no set date of Aunt Flo’s arrival.  There’s an endless cycle in which you want chocolate, sex with a 25 year old, a hot water bottle, a gun, your favorite teddy bear and a box of tissue.  Sometimes 1 at a time and sometimes all at once.  WTF?

Finally when your friends have almost tossed your friendship in the garbage( because really how long can PMS/menopausal women hang out without killing each other?) – the red tide arrives!  Tide being the appropriate word.  No one tells you that in middle age you should buy stock in Kotex or Tampax.   The red tide is may come in with hurricane force cramps, leaving you exhausted in the fetal position , thinking “God kill me now” or it may arrive stealth bomber style – a mere drop of crimson on toilet paper—convincing you that this pseudo-period is a hiccup.  That is until the flood gates open (usually around 2a and just when you’ve changed your sheets) and you are up every 45-60 minutes, changing said tampon (of which you hopefully own stock!).   How many of us have had to 1) shower in the middle of the night, 2) change sheets or 3) do laundry? WTF?

It is one thing to look in the mirror and no longer see the face of a 35 year old.  It is quite another to realize how unprepared I was (am) for my body’s betrayal.  Nothing is constant, every day/cycle is a new normal.  When a period arrives, I stare at the toilet paper (or panties) in disbelief before wondering how long and how bad.

This post wasn’t supposed to be about periods but I suppose periods are closely related to peeing.  Rather, the loss of bladder control that aging brings.  The type of loss of control where, at times, I no longer know I’ve lost control!   For example, I meet a new contractor to discuss work in a rental property.  As we’re talking, I sense I’ll need to pee soon.  Suddenly, I’m crossing my legs, grabbing my crotch and squealing “omg!  I have to pee!”  as I suddenly feel wet rolling down my leg.  WTF!

Instead of being horrified, mortified at my body’s public betrayal, I’m sanguine as I shrug and say, “sorry.  Aging sucks.”   He should be grateful he didn’t have to change my diaper!   One comfort: in old age comes more of an acceptance of what is and a letting go of “what could be or should be.”


What do you wish you had been told about aging?  Is there something that makes you think “WTF? Are you kidding me! “?

Midlife Musing – Crickets … I’ve been quiet!

My Midlife Musing has been so quiet lately that I can hear crickets!   Lots of little reasons as to why — trying to get my many ‘Midlife houses’ in order — financial, relationship, work, health, fun/travel.   Phew!  I’ve been traveling quite a bit the past 2 months.  Thankfully, December is quiet except my annual New Year’s trip to Paris.

Financial house is getting in order.  Living in Los Angeles when I retire is not an option.  As young as I feel, retirement will upon me sooner than I think.   Matter-of-fact, most of my traveling has been to check out different cities in the Midwest and West.

But it will be hard to retire anywhere if I haven’t fully prepared, meaning if my retirement savings are insufficient.  No bueno.  My plan (this week) is 1) to have rental property in the city where I’ll retire, 2) to move into one of the properties at retirement and 3) to live in a small apartment in south of France during the winter.

With that in mind, I’m implementing the plan.

Relationship house is in order.  Pretend relationship went belly up.

Work house is a work in progress.  Not sure what to do about it and I’m not spending time thinking about it.   Still figuring out my blog and how to “get myself out” to the masses.

Health house (would that be a gym?).  meh.  Need to get my focus back.

Oh the fun house — travel!   I have quite a few upcoming trips but most of them are either blog conferences or rental property hunting trips.

Lots to blog about on the varying ‘houses’, especially as progress happens.  Don’t expect much progress in the relationship house — that will probably remain a 1-room outhouse! 🙂

Juicing Recipes Day 3

2:53a Wednesday morning.  Since I went to bed at 11:30p, I‘m torn between thinking my circadian rhythms have regressed to those of a newborn or midlife hormones are disrupting my sleep pattern.

Or it could be the damn mosquito that was buzzing around my ear and made a feast out of my toes and legs.  Guess mosquitoes like bacon.

Doesn’t matter … what to do?   Clearly no mommy or daddy is showing up to cuddle me back to sleep so up it is!  Bumping into the vacuum in the hallway (DOH!) on my way to the living room.

Quick blog entry, load of clothes into the washer and tidy up the living room and I’m on schedule.

I’d like to believe my inability to sleep is my body’s response to juicing (better yet, bacon brownies) but no, I suspect it’s merely midlife hormones with nothing better to do than wake me up at 3a.

And there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head saying, “exercise, you’ll feel better.”

Ugh, it’s 4:24a and I’m listening to it.  When’s naptime because the midday meltdown might get ugly.


Yields: 16 oz

¼ pineapple, peeled

2 oranges, peeled

1 cup grapes

2 six-ounce packs blueberries



Yields: 32 oz

10 leaves kale

4 carrots

3 persian cucumbers (or Japanese)

1 celery stalk

½ inch piece of celery

3 sweet peppers, top and seeds removed



Juice together and refrigerate.

Is 50 the New 30?

Is this true?  Who the heck coined this phrase?  Or is 50 the new and improved 30? I say “new and improved” because turning 30 was not as positive as turning 50.

The 20s were filled with insecurity, uncertainty, pressure to be SOMEONE, pressure to DO something big and succeed.  Turning 30 felt like an opportunity to exhale, a chance to stand tall and say “I think this is who I am.”  Still pressure and insecurity but mitigated by a growing sense of “this is me, no doubt.”

Turning 50 was a joyous occasion — no pressure, no insecurity, no uncertainty.  Yup, this is who I am, love it or leave it.

There was a lot I enjoyed in my 30s and 40s and, 3 months in, there’s a lot I’m loving about 50.    One of the best is appreciating today and recognizing I don’t have unlimited tomorrows.   In the 20s and 30s, there’s a sense of forever, always a chance to start over/do over and,just maybe, a bit of taking life for granted.   Maybe even a bit taking people for granted.

I like to believe that in my 50s I appreciate people more, express emotions more because the tomorrows are dwindling — mine and theirs.

So maybe 50 is truly ‘new and improved’ …. period.



(I’m gonna gloss over the physical changes because there’s no way I can consider any of them ‘new and improved’ over my 30 year old body)


(I do like the phrase “ferocious second wind” in the article, tho’)