Not quite what I had in mind

God has a sense of humor.  No surprise since He is the creator of all things that He would also create humor and use it.  Sometimes, though, I think He saves testing his really big jokes on me.

As I neared 60, the “spare tire” began to increase in size.  Couple this with a high cholesterol reading (always been in the almost too low range) and you have the making of a not too good old woman.  I am active but needed to step up my game.  My motivation was sparse so I prayed for God to help me with the problem and provide a solution to my weight loss.  I was thinking He would give me a taste for Weight Watchers Food, free Nutrisystem meals or restore my knees so I could run again.  It also occurred to me he could just have me wake up pounds lighter with no work at all.  I go to bed overweight and wake up svelte. That kind of thing.

Instead, God sent me a dog.






I have been the owner of 2 cats (actually 2 sets of 2 cats) for over 20 years.  They travel with us, are independent, use the litter box and easy to manage.  Except for the demand for treats and food at 6 am, they have been lovely pets.  The dog, on the other hand, has disrupted the household (and me) in ways you cannot imagine.

1. He has to be walked. Several times a day.  We live in a zero lot line home with no yard and also travel extensively in an RV.  The dog has to be walked for exercise and my husband has a bad back which precludes him from walking long distances so guess who has to walk the dog.  Me.
2. The dog has to be walked early in the am.  No more lounging in my jammies drinking coffee until noon.  Nope, it’s feet hit the floor, brush teeth, throw on walking clothes and walk the dog.  I don’t even get a sip of Coffee!!
3. The dog has to be walked late morning and it has to be a long walk to calm him down.  He is still a puppy weighing 42 pounds.  When that wound up energy comes at you ... well.... it’s good to keep him exhausted.
4. The dog has to be walked in the afternoon.  The dog likes treats.  The dog responds to training with treats so I have to walk him for extra exercise so he doesn’t get any heavier than 42 pounds.  We don’t need a 60 pound lap dog.  (Did I mention the dog thinks he is a Chihuahua?)
5. The dog has to be walked before bedtime to prohibit being rudely awaken to a wet nose in my face or howling in the middle of the night.  He takes great pride in being housebroken.

I am not sure if it is the 10,000 steps per day or the profuse sweating that occurs during my walks that has started the weight loss but a few pounds have been shed, I am sleeping like a baby and my stress seems to be less.  

God has a sense of humor but he also knows what we need when we need it.  Even if we don’t.

Thoughts on Aging

This is a departure from the usual Southern Belle Blog post. I am aging. I don't like it. I don't like seeing people I love age and get sick.

That was cathartic to get that thought out into cyberspace. Much like an alcoholic standing up to admit their problem in a public meeting, I felt the need to admit my issues with growing older. Please do not tell me there is nothing I can do about it, that I need to embrace it and live life to it's fullest and all of the other cliches that come to your tongue in response. I am having a moment and just need to dwell deep inside it for a little while. Thank you.

People tell me I do not look my age. That is flattering and I do appreciate their kindness but the fact is I have a hard time getting out of bed with the aches and pains that have suddenly come to live in my bones. I find I have to think a little bit longer to remember something simple and I always keep a notepad in my purse for jotting down things I cannot afford to forget. Where did the time go! My son is over 30, my grandchildren are growing up and my parents and in-laws are beginning to need me more than I need them.

Lastly, I have thoughts of so much time lost. So many people I have not met, have not touched in some way and the many dreams that will be left unfulfilled. Please do not get me wrong, I have been richly blessed and, perhaps, that is the key to this issue. I love my life so much I cannot bear the thought of leaving it behind. Even though, as a Christian, I realize heaven is going to be wonderful I am not ready to leave what I have come to love... my home, my family, my husband, my friends and life.

So, thank you for allowing me to have this little moment of anxiety.  Tomorrow is another day.  Looking forward to the sunrise.

More phases of life update - I've gone flat before my time

FLAT! I've entered the FLAT phase early! None of my girlfriends who are older than me entered this phase of life prior to their mid-50's. This is NOT fair.

For those of you not familiar with this phase of a gal's life let me explain. After wearing years of wearing 4"+ high heels your feet begin to wear out. The bones in your feet slip in the wrong place, the bottom of your feet begin to hurt and you get nose bleeds. I made up the nose bleed part but you get the picture. Things begin to fall apart. Feet are not made to maintain a 90 degree angle for 12 hours and maintain a forward motion while criss crossing to ensure the hips sway at the appropriate angle. After years of this abuse you must resort to wearing flats. If you don't, then you typically have surgery which is even more embarrassing. I am afraid my feet have reached the flat stage early.

And I HATE flats. I love my 5" hussy red high heels. I love my 4.34" high heel gold sandals. I have a sign in my closet that says: "One shoe can change a woman's life." (A quote from Cinderella.) I love shoes! No matter how much weight you gain or lose your shoe size never changes.
And now all of those lovely high heels will have to be abandoned for.... I can't even write it.... FLATS! I might as well go ahead and let my hair turn completely gray (another prematurity in my life) since I'll look like a granny anyway.

And the whole thing just causes a snowball effect. First, there are certain skirts that just look poopy with flats so they have to go. Then there are pants that are too long for flats so you have to visit the alterations lady to have them hemmed. Not to mention all of the lovely heels that you have to move to that new room you have your husband build on as a memorial to your "cute" days. You put your high heels and tiny short skirts on charming displays in this little room. You spend a few hours each week sitting among your abandoned heels and clothes remembering the glory days.

I'm trying to make the best of this but, quite frankly, I"m not managing the whole process very well. Even the promise of knowing I'll have an empty closet to fill with new shoes and pants and skirts that go with flats just doesn't seem to be helping. Tune in later....