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)