Getting older is not a whole lot different then being a child. You still want toys, security, protection, love. The only difference is, you do it with 30 extra pounds, creaky joints and flappy bits you never saw before. I’ve noticed in my case that my fears and insecurities are very much the same. I always wanted to be pretty. I mean the kind of pretty that turns heads, makes you part of the popular group. The kind of pretty you see on skincare commercials. Now I know intellectually, that even the women in those commercials aren’t as pretty as they look, but let’s face it they’re pretty darn pretty. When I was in high school, I would listen to the Beach Boys and fantasize about the boys I liked asking me out. When I was living in LA, I’d smoke cigarette after cigarette, listening to music and fantasizing about the men I liked leaving their wives or their girlfriends, (a whole ‘nother Blog…) and declaring their undying love for me. Now I’m about to be 56. Being blessed with pretty good genes, I don’t look all that different then I did back then, which is to say, I’ve looked 50ish since I was 18. But now, I have 30 extra pounds, creaky joints, and flappy bits I never saw before.
The Monster Under the Bed
Sterling Silver, Granulated, Forged, Patinaed (carynjune)
I think one of the nicest things about age and experience is how much better the connection between our ears and our hearts is. You and I are much better at hearing what the other has said than when we were young. Maybe, we have to have a few monster bites out of us before we hear anything but our own voice. Caryn, you are prettier than you were in your twenties. You just are. I have another college friend who i feel the same way about. Sometimes I think youth isn’t as pretty as age.
Hello beautiful. You are funny as all get out. I really do think of you often and I hope we can see each other and chat from time to time 🙂 I am around during Olympics and would love to meet for dinner. Xoxo