I recently came to the conclusion that I need to get my shit together health-wise. I was never what you’d call a fitness buff — I ran for a while, I boxed for a while, I biked for a while, but I never stuck with anything. However, I always maintained a healthy weight for my height.
Then this menopause thing happened. You know how when the auto plant or the steel mill shuts down and the surrounding area goes to hell in a handbasket? That’s pretty much what happened to my body when my ovary popped its last egg and went out of business. And that’s ovary — singular. I only have the one. A few years ago, the other one got a little too big for its britches. Literally. Rather than being the standard walnut-size, mine had reached baseball proportions, so it had to go! Continue reading →
I don’t know if you’ve noticed among people on Twitter (hell, I don’t even know if you’re on Twitter and in a position to notice), but there are those who use their little profile space to get very specific about their sexual orientation and/or gender identity. Rarely do you see something that just says plain, old lesbian. Well, unless she’s got a rather non-descript appearance and is wandering through her twilight years, I guess …
What I mean, though, is that you don’t see many people who just identify as a lesbian or a gay man. You know, there was a time when being a single sexual-orientation had quite the cachet. We protested the injustices, we took to the streets, we paved the way toward tolerance and acceptance. And when I say “we,” of course, I mean a bunch of other people with cultural awareness and a sense of right and wrong that extended beyond their own wants and needs. Continue reading →
Riddle me this, Batman … Why is it that when people can no longer see the tiny print in the newspaper or make out the dishes on offer on a menu, they’ll take a trip to the optometrist to get their eyes checked. Or, at least, pop down to the local drug store and pick up a pair of readers. However, when their ears start to show the same signs of wear and tear, they stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that they might need a little outside assistance in the hearing department. Or, is this something unique to my parents?
About five, maybe six, maybe more, years ago I moved into my parent’s house to help them out, as they’re getting older and, apparently, I’m not. In exchange, I pay no rent and am free to write to my heart’s content. I know. It’s a pretty sweet deal. Continue reading →
You know that awkward moment when you go to the ER because one side of your face swells up and you think you have an abscessed tooth or the sinus infection from hell, and then they look at you and go, “No, it was a stroke.” And then you just stare at the doctor, for what feels like an eternity, waiting for the punchline. But then you remember that not everyone has the same dark, weird sense of humor that you do. So an ER doc probably isn’t just pulling your leg when he stays throwing around words like “stroke” and “admittance” and “observation.”
So, naturally, once I realized he wasn’t going to wink, tousle my hair and say, “I’m just joshin’ with ya. You’re fine! Now get out of here, you little skallywag!” I immediately asked, “Is it serious, doctor? Be straight with me, I can handle it.” Not really. That’s what I would have said if I were in a Lifetime movie of the week and needed to move the storyline along. What I did was laugh. Continue reading →
Unless you’re in grade school or younger (and if you are, please log off — this blog is not for you), there are things that make you realize you’re getting older.
In junior high your body changes. In high school, you get the driver’s license experience. In your twenties, you have college or moving out on your own. Or the pressure to move out. Or the begging and pleading and cajoling to a please move the fuck out already!
Then you turn thirty and everything starts making you feel old. You stop getting carded in bars. Baristas start calling you “ma ‘am.” You sit down to watch the Grammys and have no idea who anyone is.
I also understand that for heterosexuals the clock starts tick-tocking on when you’ll get married and start reproducing. I did not experience this, because when I was that age, marriage equality wasn’t even on the horizon. Perhaps now that it exists, thirty-something lesbians and gay men feel the same pressure to get married, but I haven’t seen any studies or the matter, so I can’t be sure.
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One of the weird things about being a lesbian, and I assume the same holds true for gay men and others of a non-heteronormative persuasion, is that there’s really no societal rules to obey or milestones to reach. For instance, I’ve never looked at my watch and thought, “Oh shit! I didn’t realize how late it was. I better hurry up and find a husband!” And although things are much different now, it wasn’t all that long ago that no one would have thought to ask when I was going to get around to birthing some babies. Back then, lesbians just had dogs. Now we’re collecting babies like they’re on sale at J. Crew. Continue reading →
I woke up fat not long ago. Not Lifetime Network and TLC fighting for the rights to my story fat, but definitely heavier than I’ve ever been. And logically I know it happened over time, but the older I get, the faster time seems to fly. Remember how long it took to go from your 16 year milestone of getting a driver’s license to your 21 year milestone of being able to drink legally? Eons! I had to drink illegally for years just to cope with time’s refusal to hurry the hell up. Those were the slowest five years of my life. Do you know how long the most recent five years took to pass? About 37 minutes. At this rate I’ll be dead before I finish this post. Continue reading →
I don’t have a bucket list. There are places I’d like to visit or re-visit, and a few things I want to try, many of them legal. But if that last day comes and I haven’t done them all, I’m not going to flounce out of the room in a huff, declaring my entire life a waste of time as I slam my bedroom door, fling myself on my bed and die … either out of spite or because flouncing and flinging can be dangerous in one’s twilight year Continue reading →
A few posts ago, I wrote a bit about aging and my struggle to accept the harsh reality that not only am I getting older every day, but that I’m going to continue to do so for the rest of my life..
Remember how long things used to take? The march to birthday number sixteen took forever, but finally getting your hands on that driver’s license was well worth it. And for a while, you didn’t even mind that you became to go-to person for family and household errands. You could have been handed a shopping list for a Immodium, Depends, Preparation-H, Vagisil, Ducolax, Pamprin, Lotrimin, Monistat, Odor Eaters, Stool Softener, Glycerine suppositories and a selection of douches from the Summer’s Eve Spring Fragrance collection, and you’d happily fill that order as long as you got to drive to the pharmacy to do it. Continue reading →
I can’t remember a time when I felt less my age than I do now. It wasn’t an instant transformation — I didn’t wake up one morning, remember it was my birthday and spend the rest of the day in the fetal position, sobbing quietly into my pillow. It’s been a more gradual change, an ever-increasing sense of doom, all wrapped up in layers of panic and denial. Continue reading →