As I have been contemplating this week’s blog post I have found myself reflecting a lot on the recent passing of Nora Ephron. I absolutely loved her writing style! She was every woman’s inside voice dying to come out and she did it with amazing flair, humor, honesty and grace. On the back cover of her book; “I Feel Bad About My Neck,” she wrote…Every so often I read a book about age and whoever’s writing it says it’s great to be old. It’s great to be wise and sage and mellow; it’s great to be at the point where you understand what matters in life. I can’t stand people who say things like this. What can they be thinking? Don’t they have necks?
Bravo Nora…and Godspeed. I HATE my neck too and my aging skin, my failing eyesight, my foggy memory and my new found gray highlights. OH…and while we’re at it….I hate my insomnia, I hate my droopy underarms, my sagging derriere and the bags under my eyes that might possibly challenge South West Airlines Bags Fly Free Policy. I hate that I have to write a list for every trip to the grocery store even those that only involve the need to pick up milk. I hate while at the grocery store I catch myself putting my purse in the spot previously held by one of my children many years ago. Who puts their purse in the cart? Seriously…look around and you will find only OLD women do that and when did I become incapable of holding my own purse? OH yeah…at about the same time that I developed the need to write lists and then I have to hoist my purse in the cart so I can dig through it in a feverish attempt to find said list.
I hate my feet. Who gave them permission to reject my high heel shoes? AND further more…I’m not too pleased with my significant other who will say to me as we are getting ready to leave the house for the evening…don’t you think your such and such shoes would look better? ‘OH…you mean the ones that now cut off my circulation?’ This from a man who has never had to endure physical pain in an attempt to look good? The worst pain he’s suffered is a run in with his razor on his chin…try shaving your bikini line sweet cheeks and then we’ll chat. And back to the whole shoe thing…here’s a rhyme for grown up women…This little piggy went to the theater…this little piggy wished she’d stayed home. This little piggy had an excruciating toe cramp…this little piggy felt numb. AND this little piggy cried ouch, ouch, ouch…all the way to the parking garage where she promptly threw off her heels and walked over God knows what in an effort to get to the car where she immediately broke off all relationships with said shoes and threw them in the back seat never to be worn again.
You know what I hate the most…I HATE that we women can’t ever be happy and satisfied with who we are; what we look like and be at peace with the fabulous beings we are. Andy Rooney (another recent RIP) did an awesome piece on mature women http://www.connectingsingles.com/forum_0_790_1/mature_women_by_andy_rooney.htm Unfortunately; it came from Andy Rooney…if only George Clooney said it…we might own it!