…seeing the signs of aging gave me a bit of a start. You know it’s coming but you’re never quite ready when it does finally appear.

And I’m laughing, snorting even, in that not-so-subtle way that demands you ask me, “what’s so funny?”

It was an eye-opening evening for the both of us, witnessing my ownership of my sexuality.

Outwardly, I can convince myself–and pretty often the general public in the right light–that I have stalled the biological clock. And then it happens….

I tried all the tricks that had served me so well in the past to lose….Nothing worked. Those pounds were beyond pesky; they were stuck to my body in places they had never gone before.

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.