Bare and Bohemian

Sometimes ... I choose the outfit to match the shoes I want to wear.

Sometimes ... I choose the outfit and then search my closet for the perfect pair.

Mostly ... I don't even wear shoes at all.

What is it about shoes that women love so much, aside from the fact that there are so many to choose from, and women love to have a choice when it comes to anything?  With me ... it is the way a certain pair of great shoes can make you feel.  I slip them on and immediately know if the particular pair I've chosen represents my personality well for that day.  I seldom give much thought to the comfort of a shoe over the aesthetic benefits.  If it is a gorgeous shoe and makes me feel gorgeous, I am going to wear them even if they hurt like hell.

Someone asked me recently if I had to pick one pair of shoes to live with the rest of my life, which ones would they be?  I chose ... no shoes - barefoot.  This is not because I would have a difficult time narrowing down all of my shoes (which are A LOT of shoes - haha) to just one pair.  It is because I am truly the most comfortable when I am barefoot.  I am one of those women you might see on a busy city street, carrying her high-heels in one hand and her packages in another.   It is one of the things I like most about shoes - the putting them on and the taking them off.  

It's a dilemma, really, sometimes, for me ...because there are often moments when there is nothing in the world that can make me feel better - prettier, sexier, more together, than an amazing pair of beautiful shoes.   And even though a pair of shoes can make me taller by 3, 4, or 5 inches, and even though they can make my legs look long and elegant and smooth and sexy, and even though they match my outfit perfectly and sparkle and shine in any light ... I will, more often than not, shed those shoes, leaving myself looking and feeling a bit bare and bohemian.  It is what I like most, in that moment.  The feeling of freedom.  The appearance of not being all together, but being completely comfortable with the contradiction, and knowing better.   Clothed and then unclothed.

As beautiful as the perfect shoes can make a woman look - it is my opinion that there is nothing more sexy and appealing and beautiful than a women wearing no shoes at all.  Farrah Fawcett knew this; she seldom wore shoes, and she was one of the sexiest, most beautiful women ever.


(And ... for the record, this is not true at all for men.  Keep your shoes on, except at the beach and in the bedroom - haha!)

Some of Us Mothers

So ... it was National Tequila Day and one of my daughters came home from work, said she and her friends were going out and so she invited me.  Initially, I had said no, but at the last minute I decided to go - join her and her group of 20-something-year old friends.

They were young - some tattooed.  Gages in their ears.  Piercings in their noses.  All so nice and courteous and non-conventional, according to the standards of my generation, but ... ALL included me - a 50-something-year-old mother of one of their gay friends.  

We talked.  I got to know them - where they worked - what they liked to do - how they were spending their summers aside from working.

At the end of the night they hugged me.  One said, "It was so nice to meet you - you're really cool.  You should meet my mother."

Some of us mother's find it amazing that our children grow into these people that find time to make sure they still include us in their lives.  

Some of us mother's find it amazing that these children we coddled and protected and nurtured ... turned into these people that we are so very proud to call our children - and other people are proud to call their friends.

Some of us mother's find it amazing that these children we loved and cherished and raised ... look to us in their young adult lives ... as their friends, as well as their parents.

Some of us mother's find it amazing that these children ... that are somehow, miraculously making their way in this wicked and magnificent world ... are OUR beloved children.

Some of us mothers ... are so very blessed ... <3

Is 50 the New 30?

Is 50 the new 30?  I don't just hope so - I KNOW so.

I have a group of girlfriends who are very much like me.  We are all of the same generation - had the same sorts of parents and upbringing - most have children around the same ages - and we have all said, on more than one occasion, that we will NEVER have blue hair or go easily into the night.  (Well ... unless our man is leading us there - haha!)

One of my daughters works as a cashier at Home Depot.  She was telling me today that she saw this woman walking down one of the aisles.  My daughter said she was wearing shorts, a top tied up that showed her mid-drift and a belly ring in her navel.  I asked how old the woman was and my daughter said, "She was about your age and she should NOT have been wearing that outfit and looking like that."  Now ... my daughter is quite use to me dressing flamboyantly and sexy and skimpy at times, so she is not unaccustomed to seeing a woman my age that pushes the fashion boundaries - haha!  So, when I had the image in my mind of this "older" woman dressed as my daughter had described, I had to wonder how out of place she had to have looked to have caught my daughter's attention. 

It is not all about the clothes and appearance, but that is a large part of how women my age are trying, and outright, defying our age.  We are, not only, more health conscious and fit and living in a time where we have the ability to defy our ages with creams and lotions and hair coloring and such stuff ... we are also defying the standards that society has, in the past, tried to set on us, with regard to the clothes we should be wearing or not be wearing, the lengths and styles of our hair, the manner in which we conduct ourselves in our surroundings.

I go out dancing a lot these days.  With my husband.  With my girlfriends.  Even with my daughters and their friends.  I can't even begin to tell you how many times I have been out and have met and talked to young people standing near the dance floor who were fearful of dancing.  I have encouraged them many, many times - tons of kids - telling them that life is too short to be afraid of this thing that can bring you so much joy and pleasure - that they just need to get out there and not worry about what people think and ... DANCE!  

This is who we are - those of us that fall comfortably into this category of "rebels" (and there are tons of us) that are the "50s that are the new 30".  We are simply living the lives we want - regardless of pretentious boundaries or bizarre expectations.  And ... we want that joy of life that we feel, to not only show in the clothes we wear and things we do and places we go and how we look and in all that we accomplish, but also to possibly rub off on others and to be accepted, even if we appear to be out of place or defiant.  

I believe we are paving a way - setting new standards - not just starlets in Hollywood, but the women like me in your local grocery stores and neighborhoods - paving a way for at least a portion of the present and future population of like-minded women.  Paving the way for a new way to feel, to dress, to express ourselves, to believe, to be.  It might not be a majority, now, or ever, but we are particular and memorable and smart and beautiful and progressive and unique and ... leaving our happy little footprints in the aisles of Home Depot and all over dance floors everywhere.

I hope there are young girls that see me and think, "That will be me someday," and mean it in a good way ... :)

The Sweet Game

Men have always used terms of endearments with women - doll, baby, babe, sugar, hon, sweetheart, etc.  I know of some women that find these terms degrading or offensive.  I am not one of those women.

Growing up, as a young girl in my early teens in Virginia, I can remember finding any and every reason to be near, around and with the boys of our neighborhood.  My girlfriends and I would search them out - in their tree-fort in the woods, in someones back yard, in someones basement.  It might have taken us hours, but we'd almost always find them - 3 girls searching for that group of 4 wandering boys.  Often, they'd include us in their football game or a game of flashlight tag or kick-the-can.  Sometimes there were games of Spin-the-Bottle or Truth-or-Dare.  While I could hold my own in baseball or football - truthfully, my real goal was always the kissing games.

I was one of those girls that liked boys.  I really liked them - all day, every day, more than school or television or food or anything.  And ... boys liked me.  And ... it was not because I was the "foxiest" girl in the neighborhood or the easiest (by far - haha!) - it was because, I think, they were acutely aware that I admired and loved their gender.   And, while my admiration was genuine, when I, somewhere along the way, realized that feeding their egos gained me a hell of a lot of points with boys, I realized that this was a huge part of how to play the game between girls and boys.  Make them feel special because they are special - it wasn't/isn't so hard at all.

From an early age I think I learned (like many girls/women) that boys/men like/love women that like/love them - and also appreciate a girl/woman that is confident and secure in her own gender.  Part of what I so admire about men is their obsessive admiration and love of women.  If you get that, and appreciate it for how genuine, necessary and appealing a trait it is (and sexy) - then the relationship(s) you create/maintain with men are particular and strong.  I truly believe this.  Men want and need to feel masculine and manly and strong and important and handsome and smart and sexy  ... it is not an unreasonable desire, as they ARE all of these things.  And ... it is the duty, in my opinion  of women, to help make men feel all of these things - as, what would and should make them feel all these things more than women?  In return, men make women feel feminine and beautiful and smart and desired and needed and wanted and cherished.   Hand in hand - that is how it should work - the dance between men and women.

Hence ... the terms of endearment.  Doll.  Baby.  Sugar.  Hon.  Sweetheart.  Men offer such names - those sweet terms, as a way to display their love, as a way to lure women, as a way to show reverence for the gender they adore and admire and require to survive and thrive.   Like any term, these sweet words can be used in a derogatory way but ... it is my belief that a woman should (most often) not be offended, but flattered and touched when a man takes the time and is so inclined to call her by one of these names.

The other night I went out dancing in a black and white striped dress.  It was a long dress, tight fitting, low neckline, very pretty and feminine, I thought.  On my way to the bathroom, at one point, a group of men standing nearby said, "There she is - the zebra."  I laughed and smiled and went on my way.  I was not offended - even though I know I am not a zebra, nor do I believe I looked like a true zebra.  What I did was take it as a compliment that they had noticed my dress at all and took the time to make a comment.  Zebras are not elephants or skunks or hippos or lizards.  Zebras are beautiful and graceful and special.  So ... it was sort of a term of endearment.  This is the same reason I do not take offense to the terms sugar or hon or sweetheart.  I am just pleased to be called anything sweet - because what it says is that person believes I am that sweet name or hopes that by using that sweet name I will find them sweet.

There is not a thing wrong with ... sweet.

Or zebras - for that matter - haha!

Lady Maintenance

I spend a fair amount of time on ... lady maintenance.  Nails.  Toes.  Hair.  Skin. Waxing, shaving, plucking, primping, exfoliating, spraying, curling, straightening, polishing, softening, conditioning ... it's sort of exhausting, at times, but well worth the effort to me. 

Why do I spend time doing all of these tedious, time consuming beauty procedures - day after day, week after week, year after year - aside from the fact that I certainly inherited the "primping" gene from my mother and her 4 sisters and my grandmother?  Well ... I do it because it makes me feel good, first and foremost.  It makes me feel good about how I look and feel about myself, and it makes me feel good about how people perceive me.

Now ... all that said, I heard something recently.  It has to do with the appearance and maintenance of a particular area of the female body.  I heard that ... hair is coming back "in style".  Yes, hair - down there ----->

I was at a girlfriend's garage sale not long ago where I came across a box of old Playboy magazines a friend of hers had brought over to sell.  I picked one up and flipped it open.   The first thing that caught my eye was all the girls had an abundance of hair ... down there ------>.  It seemed so odd to me, as it seems to me that it has been many years that so many women have been seriously grooming and eliminating that hair, and it just seemed odd to see ALL the girls so "natural".

There are so many trends that come about - in fashion and such - that sometimes take me months to accept (if ever), and this is one of those Hollywood-inspired trends I am not likely going to accept anytime soon - if it, in fact, becomes the new thing.

Nope - I will still be mowing my lawn, regardless of what the rest of the girls do with theirs :)  

Women - Be Kind to Other Women's Children

Someone told me a story today.  It was one of those stories that, depending on how it is told, can either make you laugh or make you cry.  I laughed, because the person telling me the story told it in a way that made us all laugh.  But ... inside I was angry and disgusted and wished I could have been there.  Wished I could have been there where the story took place so that I could have said the things on my mind when I heard it.  So I could have made it clear that, while we laughed at this story, it broke my heart.

She was standing in line at the soda machines at the gas station with her girlfriend.  Her girlfriend said something to her and so she responded with a sweet sentiment, "I dunno, hon," or something like that.  A woman, maybe in her late 40s, standing nearby, turned and looked - stared at my friend, the story-teller, and her girlfriend.  The look on the woman's face made it clear to our couple that the woman was disgusted.  She abruptly turned away.  The woman went about her business, but then asked (out loud), "Where are the lids to these cups?"  My story-teller says she overheard the woman and so offered assistance, nicely, by pointing out where the specific lids were and telling the woman so.  The woman turned, acting as though she hadn't heard, and rudely responded, "What?"  My storyteller said she repeated to the woman, "There.  The lids you're looking for are there."  And smiled.  The woman then crunched up her 40-something-year-old face and with all the lack of grace and lack of kindness she could muster, she spat the words ... "I don't need your gay help," and turned and walked away.

If I had been there ... I would have stepped right up to that woman who is someone else's child, and said to her ... "Be kind to these children - for they are my children.  If I ever run across yours, I will make sure I am kind to them ... you bitch."

Gimme a Snickers Please ...

She says to me, "When you use to have periods what food did you crave?"  This, a random question in the car, from my 11-year-old daughter.  I said chocolate, but that was right after I said ...

"Okay, okay, okay .... let's just get one thing straight from the get-go - I STILL have the occasional, surprise period from time to time!"  

Why do I feel the need to make this clear?  Because ... when the day actually comes (and it is like a week or two away, I am certain of it) when I no longer have periods, forever - I will then have to admit to myself, and everyone, that I am officially in MENOPAUSE!  I know there are millions of women that look forward to the day when they no longer have to deal with the mess and trauma and inconvenience of periods - but just wait until you get to the point when you are fixing to lose them.  Maybe it's just me, but losing my periods makes me feel like I am going to eventually dry up and wither away.  Losing my periods makes me ever-so-aware of how old I'm getting.  Losing my periods is assurance that I will never have anymore babies (not that I was or could or would want to do that anymore, anyway - haha!).  Losing my periods reminds me of a pretty piece of steak ... turning into beef jerky.

By the way, my daughter hasn't started her period yet, but she informed me that she is certain the food she will crave will be .... beef jerky.

And ... there you have it.

36D

On Facebook yesterday, I posted the status:  I am one of those girls that shows a lot of cleavage ... but I am not one of those girls that lets my cleavage talk for me.  There is a difference.

I suppose that, to men, cleavage is cleavage - that they don't give it much thought.  Well, they probably give it a lot of thought - hahaha - but I doubt they question why one woman is comfortable showing her fluff and another is not.  

I don't mean to suggest that my reasons for showing cleavage are better or worse or even all that different than any other woman's reasons - I just meant to suggest that there are reasons why I do, and I am very aware of those reasons.

First, and foremost - I am comfortable with my body, appreciate the beauty of a woman's body, believe that my breasts are beautiful and one of my assets.  Am I aware of the attention my breasts draw?  Absolutely.  Is that one of the reasons I choose to "feature" them in the low-cut or tight-fitting clothing I wear?  Absolutely.  Am I aware that a woman showing her cleavage is often viewed in a "negative" way by other people?  Of course.  Do I care?  Not in the least.

I am a strong, capable, intelligent woman that chooses to live her life the way I want - regardless of what other people might think.  One of the reasons, I believe, I tend to dress flamboyantly (aside from the fact that I dress to please myself) is partly because I know that the clothing I wear actually contradicts other, equally prominent strengths of my personality.  What I mean to say is - I sometimes do it to see if people will take the time to look past my appearance to get to know the other (equally as interesting) sides of me behind the beautiful breasts.  And, also, to be honest - to piss people off.  I get a certain, odd thrill in seeing someone get riled up over how I dress.  I would never intentionally try to offend anyone, but what I have learned is that there are no set rules or boundaries when it comes to offending people - some people will find any reason to claim something is offensive.

My breasts and the sexy clothing I choose to wear are part of who I am, and express a portion of my personality that I MUST express in order to be ME. But ... I am more than my cleavage if you take the time to get to know me.  In the meantime ... enjoy the view :)