Accident prone – mainly the right side of my body it seems. What about you?

Accidents – let me see yes I had one this morning, walking around the house bare footed as another hot day in Oz.     Courtesy Google &

 Courtesy Google &

My right foot smashes into the bottom of the steps. It was sore granted, I did say a few expletives, then it seemed to feel better, in fact I took minded dog Peta for her walk, I weeded the back yard ferociously and then I started to mow. Mr. S is on a Golf weekend so I thought hmm the sun is out may as well continue. I finished the back then got 1/4 into the front only to have my ‘cafoofer valve’ give way on me  (my terminology for running out of steam) which is VERY unusual for moi.

Now it wasn’t the foot that stopped me , oh noooo it was the fact that silly me (points stern finger at myself) did not consume any water the entire time I was slaving in the garden. So I think a bit of heat stroke got to me. Such a sad and sorry sight I was stretched out on the couch grabbing breath and drinking gallons of water.

Anyway where was I, oh yeah the foot.. so after I had hydrated myself (no people not with wine this time) and had a shower, the foot was aching more than earlier. To the point now dear readers I can’t put weight properly on it. So maybe…possibly I have broken a little toe (the one on the end that you really don’t need anyhow) and have it bandaged. Daughter said “Um Doctor Mum”  reply “No they can’t do anything if it’s broken anyway”(be forever the martyr)…

This led me to this post.

How many accidents have you had?  Are you accident prone? What’s the weirdest accident you have had?

I can recall 3 others, though technically one wasn’t an accident, ok it was I guess.

  • I must have stood on a small screw outside at one stage, but I never felt it. I don’t want to gross anyone out but for months I was completely unaware until one day (for reasons even unknown to me) I looked very hard at the underneath of my foot (not something I’m prone to do a regular basis mind). I dug a little as I noticed something dark…you guessed it after not to be much digging I pulled out this screw, albeit small but the little thing had been nestled in the ball of my foot for some time without me feeling or knowing it was there.
  • The 2nd incident was again involving my foot and my right one – seems I’m accident prone with this side of my body. I was outside and my partner at the time was cutting off planks of wood. Yep barefoot again, I stood on a nail. Off to the doctors this time for a Tetanus injection (which was painless). However I had to step, place, step, place with crutches as the nail even though I had been injected against bodily harm had infected my foot somewhat and it swelled underneath. The mere act of trying to place it on the ground was agonising.
  • The 3rd and last incident was when I was young – I can’t remember how young but I climbed a fence when I was living at home and fell, head first folks onto a concrete path on the other side.

And that possibly explains why I am like I am to this very day.

Courtesy Google&

Courtesy Google&

Who Am I – Part 3


I remember putting on t-shirts and immediately would throw them off again, as they clung way too much around my stomach or my back. Now the task of getting dressed each day isn’t quite a chore, due to the up keep of exercise but also choosing clothes that now fit my body shape. Thank god for the invention of stretchy light material that just flows and doesn’t necessarily suck to your body shape!

Many years back I did venture into the world of plastic surgery. I was sick and tired of my protruding pot tummy. (Hmm it was many years back, as I glance down to see it has returned over the last few years). Whenever I stood in conversation with someone, I’d fold my arms in front of me to disguise what I thought was unsightly. I wasn’t what you would call ‘big bellied’ but I was always so self-conscious about it (high rib cage perhaps). For anyone who hasn’t had a tummy tuck there are obviously risks involved and a great deal to think through, however l was very happy with the results.

There is the pain of the scar akin to caesarean scarring I would imagine, (though I have never had one so am not an authority) the bruising from the lipo-suction combined with the general uncomfortable stage after any major operation but at the time l took the plunge into the world of cosmetic surgery, l was extremely happy with the outcome. Now that I have ‘advanced in years’ and have noticed that my skin has loosened I am happy to report that so far I can still wear jeans without elasticized waistbands (though some days l wish l did). When I shop for summer tops I steer towards those with a little or cap sleeve to cover up the under arm skin, it’s wobbly and continues to wave even if my arm has. (Is anyone nodding?)

My hair that use to be shoulder length is now in a Vidal Sassoon original style Pixie cut , it took some while to get use to but it’s so much easier to maintain (and don’t they say us women should opt for the shorter styles as we get older anyway? They do say when one is older one shouldn’t go long (again what l have read) maybe length provides an optical illusion to disguise the drooping jowls? I visit the hairdresser for my colour/foils mainly to cover the few grey hairs that have sprouted on my head. I pluck the odd facial hair (yes some are even black) and notice a little fine down (sounds like a doona filling) along my jaw line. I don’t wear eye shadow that much anymore and if I do I am very careful not to be too heavy handed, as it now ‘falls’ into the creases and folds of my eyelids.

I’ve never been a huge water drinker, but of late drink more as my mouth and lips tend to dry more quickly. I use a magnifying mirror now when putting on my make up, especially eyeliner or mascara. I had always wondered why older women would sometimes have remnants of mascara on or underneath their eyes, or have crooked eyeliner applied. The reason was simply because like me, their eyesight was failing and if we can’t view this up closely, we simply don’t see it. I take Omega 3, Magnesium, Glucosamine  (when I remember) to try and banish the aches and pains of my old bones and help restore the memory. l realize how funny that sounded taking pills to help my memory, but then l forget to take them.

I am and always have been a sun lover, (hands up people of my generation, I’m not the only one) now of course we are more aware of skin cancer, but my years of continual exposure skin drowned in baby or cooking oil meant my skin has started to show signs of being more weather beaten. I don’t have skin like a horse saddle but lf l had been more cautious of the sun l would not have developed some Actinic Keratosis (or in laymen’s terms –small dry patches of raised skin and small age-spots).

Speaking of my memory some days are better than others- short term i.e one day not so bad, long term – well just give me a minute or several to think. My girls got to the stage of writing things down for me or sticking notes on the fridge of what they were doing, where they were going etc so I wouldn’t have to keep asking them continually.  The menopause hurdle was the next to cross over. It started just before my 50th birthday.  Some women breeze through without even realising they have had it, whereas others that I know are still putting up with it some ten plus years on.

I had the insomnia, the flushes (mainly at night when I was longing to sleep) and alas the change in body shape. For 5 years or so years this continued, then the flushes stopped. Then low and behold out of nowhere (after almost a year of being absent) the flushes came back as did the insomnia. Oh joy I hear you say (presuming of course you are not a male reading this).

My body has been lived in for 57 years – my body has changed, and is there a funny or bright side to all of this? Well I’m still here, still breathing so that’s a bonus! Maybe I should embrace growing old gracefully after all…I’ll work on it.

So Who Am I? – Part 1

Who Am I?

I had an interesting conversation with a girlfriend some years back; we were discussing how I felt and what I thought about me – where I fitted now that daughters had left home (though the youngest returned). I told her that I honestly hadn’t given it any thought. She mentioned the three stages in a woman’s life, the Maiden – the pure, modest and chaste. The Mother – a woman has born a child or has nurtured one and the Crone – when a woman is near or past Menopause and acknowledges her age, wisdom and power. So I am now in my Crone years – ah how that lifts my spirits no end!

I have past through my childhood, my teens, young adulthood; adulthood, motherhood and the menopause hurdle. I should be accepting of who I am, I know myself extremely well (my good and bad points).

First and foremost I would like to think that I am a good friend to those that are close to me. My temperament can be extremely moody (well l am a Cancerian) and I have a tendency even I can admit to being a bit of a drama queen. I can accept people and there faults to quite a large extent. If I had to air my thoughts on something someone had said that has upset or offended me, I would try and approach it light-heartedly.

I believe I am a friendly, gregarious and generous person. I have the ability to make people laugh, with some of my friends saying I should have been on the stage and some say sweeping it.

I’m not without vices, how many of us are and to assume one is perfect at my age or any age for that matter is a sure sign they are deceiving themselves. Much to my detriment I have an addictive nature, I still smoke, though I did give it up for seven years when my girls were little. I enjoy drawing, painting and even managed to sell an oil painting some years back, I have toyed with the idea of getting back into painting but that is all I have done ‘toyed’. I’ve attended classes on writing and illustrating children’s and writing for adults.

I had been extremely fortunate not to have real money concerns, I am not rolling in it by any means, I still work full-time and find myself reasonably comfortable and as the saying goes we ‘get by’. I see other women who have wardrobes full of shoes or bags, or clothes. I look at my rather sorry wardrobe and realise I only buy clothes for myself maybe a few times a year, though this has changed more so over the past year especially with the stretchy light fabrics mentioned earlier. When I do buy new clothes I have to force myself to reach for something different, it’s not that I don’t like colours, the older I get the more colourful my wardrobe has become for some reason but I guess I just play it ‘safe’ with black, white and greys. I wonder what if anything that says about me as a person.

Turning 50

A milestone, we now are catching a glimpse of our mortality and making a choice about what in fact we want to achieve if anything for the rest of it. By now, we know what is important and what isn’t, what needs to be taken to heart and when we can laugh unabashedly at others and ourselves. We’ve been doing all, or almost all of the things we’re supposed to be doing for the last fifty years and we’ll continue (most of them anyway) because these are things we want in our life. The ageless woman is purported to be confident and comfortable in her own skin, not matter what age ( I don’t think I have portrayed that about myself so far). There is, so I am led to believe tremendous sex appeal in having this confidence. There are times when I do look in the mirror and think I look ‘hot’ – ok so don’t laugh, there are however equal amount of times when I look in that same mirror and pull the sides of my face up – showing me  how I may look after a face lift and I smile. Maybe it’s merely a case of acquiring a more positive attitude with my own being, having this ‘make – up’ would be a thousand times better than the most expensive cream. Everyone can look upon women who aren’t necessarily beautiful in the conventional sense, yet these women are accepted and admired for their inner sex appeal and beauty. Maybe I should stop micro-scoping my imperfections as much as I do.

One of my closest friends that I use to work with would always say to me “Baby we’re here for a good time – not a long time”. The obvious theory behind this is to enjoy every moment, live as day as if it were your last, funny how I didn’t pay much attention to that before, but now l do.

The morning of my 50th birthday I remember waking and thought to myself ‘Well girl you made it, how do you feel? As expected absolutely no different whatsoever. What on earth was I expecting to happen? Did I think on waking that I’d need a walking frame to hobble from the bedroom or help from the bed? The fact of facing the number did not hold the quite the importance now as it once had. I had jumped the massive hurdle and survived! I had conquered; it was achieved, complete and final. There was no hiding in a corner, nor under my bed covers. The following day passed and I went into day two of my ‘golden’ years. Are there any women, who look forward to the prospect of getting older, I’d say not. What can we do to stop it- not a bloody thing!

So Who Am I – Part 2

My weight on the scales now fluctuates between fifty-nine to sixty one kilograms (trying to stop the later proves more difficult). Some weeks are better than others, but its like my body has said ‘ENOUGH’ this is the weight you are meant to be so deal with it!’ I’m at a loss some days to understand. I ended my gym membership and my partner and I bought a treadmill and home (weights)gym. I am pleased to say I use said equipment approximately 4 to 5 times per week, and apart from a bag of licorice allsorts or snakes I have quite a healthy “normal” diet, but for some reason with the exercising and the odd intermittent over consumption of sugar l can’t loose any more. It has to be an age thing. I can see you nodding your head, are you relating to me? (Surely this is a good sign refer to paragraph 1). Perhaps the ‘muscle weighs heavier’ theory is correct and if so I should look like the Governor of California – Arnie what’s- his -name. But alas it’s noticeable (to me at any rate) and I wish that l was one of these women who can say “Yes l think my body is looking quite reasonable for my age- I’m happy ” but I’m not there quite yet, question is will l ever be?

Unfortunately when I don a bra, I shake my head at the sight of the extra fold or two of skin that appears over the top and at the sides (rather like a squeezed tube of toothpaste). In fact it’s a case of lean forward and jam in the excess to prevent more over-hang! Can I put it down to just an ill-fitting bra perhaps? (Thank god I’m not big in the boob department though yes would have liked a little more..just to have a cleavage would have been lovely thank you). I notice how my skin wrinkles up on my forearm similar to corrugated iron (at least I’ve returned to the humorous) when I bend my arm a certain way, or the skin on my legs looks drier and thinner, not to mention the turkey skin crepe neck? Bruises, cuts remain for longer now, not fading in a day or two as they use to. The back of my hands, such a tell tale sign of age, the only way I can make them appear young and is to clench my fist.  My kneecaps are starting to crease a little more and drop further towards my feet.  Yes everything appears to be going south as we are told with age.

The extra flesh on the top of my hips (muffin tops) is just one of the parts of the female anatomy that is so difficult to get rid of and of course one or two (ok more than that) facial lines around the mouth and under my eyes. Character lines we are told, laugh lines, no just plain ‘you’re getting older girl’ lines I tell my self. Oh sweet youth where have you gone?

I realise that is probably why I had so much difficulty choosing clothes to wear, the clothes that would once reveal an average and reasonably shaped body had gone forever (in my eyes anyway) and I knew that my mid life years had ascended. That’s why the walking was scrapped and the gym took its place. Yes ’any’ exercise is good for you, but if you want quicker results albeit tough some days, working out on a treadmill, cross trainer, bike, doing weights is the only way to go they say, BUT at the same time you must watch your food intake.. sugar, carbs blah blah blah.

I remember looking upon my own mother when I was younger, looking at her skin and her body shape changing and thinking to myself is that going to be my body? Not that we would ever think that our mothers look abysmal (because we’d be in major trouble if they ever found out we thought that way for starters), but I think we scrutinise or at least I did at a younger age how they looked when they were older and I wondered if my body shape would be similar at her age.

Unfortunately and inevitably the answer was yes more than likely. I am delighted in saying that both my parents look extremely young for their age still (so let’s hope I’ve inherited those genes). No matter how much we may detest or protest, our bodies will change, unless of course you’re able to afford plastic surgery on a regular basis. I’m not ashamed to admit I secretly wish that I could have all that back again. Society as a general rule favours smooth skin and slimness over middle age, wrinkles and spare tires! But does that automatically make us more attractive? (Yes I’ve slipped back to the dark side – best get yourself more wine)

I don’t know if I can or want to grow old gracefully as is purported. Peering into the mirror asking “Where are you, where is the girl, the young woman l knew?” With the answer tongue in cheek “Oh yes there you are, your mother”.  I desperately try to maintain my weight, watch what I eat and drink (as I mentioned most of the time) however my body shape has altered. Put down to menopause and my advancing years. I was generally a size twelve, then went to a ten and sometimes on a good month down to an eight. Now due to my fluctuation on the scales (yes l weight myself daily and now take note of grams now) I either reach for my skinny clothes or my fat ones (hands up, yes we all have a wardrobe like this).

The clothing manufacturers sadly have such an unrealistic spectrum when it comes to clothes sizes. Just when you think you are ‘safe’ trying on a pair of size 10 jeans, low and behold you step into them, get them to your upper thighs (with a bit of wiggling and jumping about in the change room) only to find that your hips are in the way. “Damn” you mutter under your breath, why aren’t they fitting? Then you become disillusioned because you know you have 3 other size 10 pairs of jeans hanging in your wardrobe and you hadn’t eaten anything for the last two days before this shopping spree. They should equip dressing rooms with beds (just like the good old days when we squeezed/sucked our bodies into jeans by lying down).