December 18, 2013

38

Let me tell you something. I’m 38 today and I don’t want to be. Perhaps later in the day I will realize all the things I should realize about how accomplished I am, how rich I am with things that aren’t “things”, and feel supremely blessed. But right now is not later in the day. I still feel blessed, but I do feel … old. I’m not ready to be half-done with my life.

Right now I’m listening to Mr. Big, Pearl Jam, and Alanis Morrisette and I swear, I’m 19 again. I miss 19. Those years were the best years of my thighs. My Lord. I weighed 118 lbs when I graduated high school at 5’10”. The boobs didn’t come until later, but even then I didn’t care all that much that I didn’t have any. My mom took me to a Barbazon modeling call the year before and they wanted to enroll me. We couldn’t afford it and I’m glad. Hey – have I ever mentioned that before? Huh. Well there you go.  

A year later, when I was 20, my dad died. It freaks the shit out of me to realize that was 18 years ago. NOT COOL. I told Bryon that in another 2 years I will celebrate my 40th birthday and with that will come the realization that I have spent more time on this earth without my dad than with him.

This year I got myself some birthday presents. I found Bearpaw boots on sale for like, $45. Bryon was poised to get them, but he knew I’d find a bigger deal and I did. They are at home right now, waiting in their box. They’ve been here 2 weeks and that box is still sealed up. I didn’t want to open them until my birthday. Sort of trained myself that way before Bryon came along. Back then, the kids were too little to remember birthdays or wrap presents so I would deliberately wait in order to have something to open and feel special on my birthday. [Is that considered sad or well-planned?] This is probably why I also still choose the complimentary gift wrap option whenever I can. Who else would wrap presents for me? Just because I know what they are when they show up doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel special and rip some wrap. Now that I’m married and my husband is so kind about these things, he has all this taken care of, I’m sure. And I am not a child who needs spoiling, but man some things die hard. And I am fiercely independent. What, you didn't know? 

You know what else I haven’t done yet? I haven’t taken the video tapes I have of my dad to be moved to DVD. I’ve just been too lazy. I keep forgetting. And here I am today and I really just want to hear Richard’s voice. I want to watch him play pinochle and yell at my uncle Billy for cheatin’. I want to hear him directing the photo we took with cousins after our family reunion – I think that was 1988. Judy had the big hair and we lived on Gardner Lane.

But here I am and its 2013 and I’m 38 today.

On the plus side of aging, my boobs are fabulous now. Thanks be to Mabel for that one.

I plucked 30 gray hairs out of my head yesterday morning. That was not a nice start to the day, let me tell you what. I’m just keeping it real. I mean, it took me 37 years to finally fall in love with the hair color that God gave me (Why are we teenage girls so stupid with hair? Yes, it’s fun to play, but really – it is your hair color for a stupendously awesome reason.)  I don’t want to color it but I don’t want to be gray either. I hadn’t wanted to highlight, either, but that may be my best option soon. I am scared to maintain my natural dark because I see too many women with that skunk stripe of white roots, desperately in need of a root job. Gah. Makes me want to cry. I think I need to have a conversation with my beauty operator.

I miss my mom. She lives too far away. She was sick when I talked to her last night and it’s scary. I can’t just go visit her. I can’t take her soup or a handmade blanket. I can’t fart with her or laugh until we cry. I miss that SO. MUCH. 

So, the kids are going to their dad’s again over Christmas. We drive the day after and they come home January 1. If you can spare prayers, please send them.

Tonight we’re going to dinner. I get to choose the location since there are a few that have excellent gluten-free menus and well, I’m the birthday girl. I’m hopeful that I can spend some alone time with my husband tonight after we get home and brain dump. Maybe he’ll dance with me in the kitchen, too. I need me some of that. 

I know that later I will realize all that I should realize. I am humbled because I belong to the Lord. I'm perfectly imperfect to Him and He saw fit to get me to 38. I've learned some hard lessons, but I am grateful to be where I am.

Now if only I could adjust to the gray hair and the number 38. Gah!


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