On my birthday when I was gloomily contemplating my frumpy, old haggedness, a delivery came for my husband while he was at work. I said to the delivery guy, “Can you just put it on the porch out of the rain and then he can put it where he wants when he comes home?"
The guy said, “Umm, it weighs like two-hundred pounds, I don’t think I can get it up on the porch by myself." Then he eye-balled me for a second and said, “Well, you could probably help me, you look pretty strong.”
Later I told my husband so he could beat the guy up or something, but he doubled over with laughter, “Why didn’t you beat him up yourself, you’re pretty strong…”
(I am rather hefty, but really, you can keep your observations about that to yourself if you don’t mind.)
Then I then went upstairs and overheard J and Little One saying, “I love you better than poop.” “Well I love you better than chickens.” “I love you better than underwear on your head.” And just as I began to fantasize about flying to Madagascar. All by myself. Forever. Little One said wistfully, “Well – I love Mama the best of everything.”
So with Madagascar out of the running I thought maybe I’d just get a new hairdo. I said to my hair stylist, “Maybe I’ll go with strawberry highlights once instead of golden. Do you think I’d be a cute redhead?”
He kind of nodded and grunted.
Or how about one of those short in back, longer in front bobs ala Victoria Beckham - did he think I could pull that off.
Sort of a nod and shrug.
Then I said I really love pixies and every time I see a girl with a pixie I think oh my god is she the cutest thing ever, I wish I had hair like that. “But,” I said, “I think only girls who are skinny can wear that look well.”
He chuckled, “You’re skinny.”
“So you think I would look cute with a pixie?” I perked up.
Long uncomfortable silence.
In the end I just took a tip from my young baristas and bought a pair of Reeboks – I was skeptical… until I got carded buying a bottle of wine. Now I believe! So to my fellow mid-lifers, who are dedicated, in principle, to growing old gracefully, but simply aren’t “feeling it” – there is hope. Step away from the bovine toxin. Resist the urge to run away from home. Try some hip, comfortable shoes.