Fifty is the New is Two!
Filed Under All Posts, Cathy Fischer, Group Posts, Miscellaneous | 13 Comments
Join Cathy Fischer and her Terpsichorean muses in a special anniversary dance
On April 22, 2008, in “Entering the Blogosphere”, the very first Fifty is the New blog post, I wrote, “Will I have something to say as I am catapulted into the world of commentary, citizen journalism and navel-gazing? I continued with this pretty clever strategy, “For backup, I have enlisted the help of some articulate, powerful, funny, sexy and smart voices. Other women, friends of a ‘certain age,’ whose reflections make me sit up and take notice, wonder aloud, laugh, get enraged and engaged in life—mid-life.” Yes, quite clever, enlisting those women, if I say so myself…
Since that first post two years ago, a lot has changed. There were few blogs written by middle aged women back then, and now there are many. Baby boomers on Facebook? Not in 2008, when it was still an online campus, a collection of pimple-faced college kids and a few early adopters. In these past two years, we’ve put a new president in office, brought ecology back, and now there are more women over 50 smiling from the cover of magazines. (Hey Ellen! Lookin’ good)!
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It Could Happen To You
Filed Under All Posts, Health, Prudence Baird | 15 Comments
Falling by Tom Bagshaw
Like a sign post that screams Watch Out!, Prudence zooms in on one of midlife’s challenges.
Falling. It happens to the best of us. One minute you are putting one foot in front of the other, and the next you’re on your ass. Or your face—with absolutely no idea how you got there so fast.
When young, falling is funny; slapstick even. Occasionally falling is painful, but having friends sign your cast or getting out of P.E. makes it all worthwhile. In fact, there’s a notorious t-shirt that mocks falling:
“I don’t have a drinking problem. I drink. I get drunk. I fall down. No problem.”
Ha-ha. Try that at age 54.
This brings me to the other morning when I heard a crashing and thrashing sound coming from the bathroom. Read more
My Lovely Bones
Filed Under All Posts, Politics, Prudence Baird | 21 Comments
A doctor’s prognosis brings Prudence Baird face to face with her “inner old lady.”
I love my town. What’s not to love about a place where the local doctor goes by his first name (Dr. Walter) and hand-writes notes to his patients?
Recently, one of Dr. Walter’s letters arrived in the mail. I recognized the familiar scrawly handwriting that could only belong to a doctor.
“What’s in the letter from Dr. Walter?” asked my husband.
“I have no idea.”
“Shall I open it?” he asked, ripping open the envelope. “Oh,” he paused. “You have osteoporosis.”
Surely my husband wasn’t talking to me?
I quickly looked around for Sally Field.
Moi, osteoporosis? A flying nun’s disease? An old lady’s disease? How could this be? Read more
Gray Texture
Filed Under All Posts, Beauty, Carine Fabius, Humor | 17 Comments
Can I just bitch for a moment about getting old? I know, I know, there are people starving in America, and I should just be grateful for my wonderful life. And, I am. But let’s face it. Regardless of bombs going off in the world and in the lives of people you love, if a missile has landed in your little universe, you can’t just wish it away. Pettiness and substance often occupy the same space. Life is like that. Okay, disclaimer taken care of. Now can I bitch?
I’ve written on this site before about going gray, and I thought I had a pretty good game plan in place: because it blends so well, start with platinum blonde around the crown, where it’s coming in at a speed rivaling the action in Charlie Chaplin movies; and, that’s been working very well. Until now. Who knew that my nice, soft curls would morph into coarse, wiry pubic hair? Gray pubic hair at that! Read more
Going, Going, Gray
Filed Under All Posts, Beauty, Carine Fabius, Humor | 7 Comments
God hates me. How else can I explain this going gray business? It’s happening all over my body. My pubic hair is going gray. I’m noticing stray grays in my eyebrows. I swear, my skin is going gray, too. Isn’t gray the color of rats? I am particularly not fond of rats, and He is turning me into one—I’m sure I noticed a whisker the other day. Guess what color it was? I’m telling you, God has it in for me. Recently I looked up at the sky, and it was slate gray, for Pete’s sake! I’m taking it personally. On an otherwise fresh Tuesday morning not long ago, I noticed these headlines on the front page of the Los Angeles Times Business section: Read more
Gumby is Fuzzy
Filed Under All Posts, Cathy Fischer, Humor, Style | 12 Comments
I’ll admit it. I need reading glasses.
It took some time for me acknowledge this publicly. A few years back, this was the scenario: I’d be out to dinner at a dimly lit restaurant. It was bad enough that I couldn’t hear (that’s the fashion these days, over-packed rooms with hard surfaces feigning a ‘happening’ atmosphere), but I couldn’t see, either. Casually trying to hold the menu a few inches away, then farther, a bit farther, finally at arms length—didn’t fool anyone. While my girlfriends of a similar age would whip out their fashionable specs, I would scoff because at age 48, I was still able read the fine print, in the perfect light, that is. But alas, I got older and Gumby got fuzzy. Read more
Age Envy
Filed Under All Posts, Beauty, Carine Fabius, Politics | 3 Comments
Growing old gracefully just got easier for me. It happened as I was reading an opinion piece by Meghan Daum in the Los Angeles Times, in which she reflected on “society’s shallow preoccupation with physical appearance.” Like a lightning bolt, it hit me that as aging women are advised ad nauseam on how to bring back their youthful glow, the youthful glow set is acting like a bunch of middle-aged women dealing with the reality of their reflections in the morning mirror. They want to be us! Pardon me, but aren’t lines, wrinkles and sagging skin the purview of women in their fifties? Not anymore! Now women in their twenties and early thirties are running, not walking, to the swamped Botox Store to get rid of frown lines they should keep—for frowning at important things like idiotic boyfriends, vexing career moves, 650,000 civilian lives lost in Iraq and whether to spring for that sixth pair of jeans or not. As you know, once you get Botoxed and the lines disappear, so does the ability to frown. Read more
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