Then came the earthquakes. A divorce, single motherhood, a bankruptcy. Bing, Bang. Boom. Even though I was an emotional wreck, I never ballooned to outrageous proportions. Still, for the first time in my life I had to shimmy into a girdle to control the overflow of tummy flesh. I was mortified.

I just ordered a bathing suit.  It’s still February and I’m looking at swimwear.  I do this every year.  And every year, I pass on the opportunity to clothe my body for a season of …

Yes they do. Every day. In almost every way. This, as much as used-up eggs and hot flashes, seems to be a fact of my midlife.
Once, in my glory days, I could …

This is a post from ByJane, circa early Spring 2007.  I’m reposting it as an hommage to Jessica Gottlieb’s recent musings about French Pedicures.
I know it’s still winter in the rest of the …

I’m also poking fun at myself for being conflicted about no longer being hot–-hot in the sense that people who didn’t already know that I was “beautiful on the inside” thought I was hot.

The bathing suits are all on sale, but–hey! the Halloween costumes are as well. We at MidLifeBloggers think that Perrie might want to consider going as Mrs. Potato Head this year…

Check out Perrie Meno-Pudge, …

The fear in the back of my mind, though, is that I could be that woman in the flowered leggings and gym shorts. Maybe not this minute, but someday. It was almost like a premonition.

Like Perrie?  Visit her at Perrie Meno-Pudge…

This chic new look has me fantasizing about Japanese designer clothes and moving to Manhattan. And when I’m not thinking about how much I hate my neck, I’m groovin’ on the cropped hair…

I wonder how long I’m supposed to keep it up? At what age do I knock it off– Skip the Botox, cancel the personal trainer, go with the uni-brow, and lose the retainer on my teeth at night?

Don’t underestimate the reach of the Internet, ever. Barbie Googles, it seems, and she is not happy! With me!!

I have a bone to pick with you. You are a million tiny dark clouds that, en masse, have been growing inside of me, haunting me. Terrorizing me, really. You are like pigeons who hang around garbage dumpsters. . .