Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and thought, "What the hell has happened to my face?" Well, I have recently been having that occur almost daily. Sometimes I don't recognize the person looking back at me, wondering if I should lend her some eye cream (you know, the good stuff that costs $300 an ounce). Other times, I shriek in horror thinking someone is haunting me and I will soon be possessed by a middle aged wrinkle bag who clearly needs a dye job and some sleep. Well, guess what? I am that middle aged wrinkle bag and I do indeed need some sleep.
Yes folks, I am getting old. I don't want to believe it because I feel so young and vibrant inside. Inside I feel like Victoria Justice ( I picked that 18 year old because that seems to be my husbands favorite).But inside is starting to not match outside. When did this happen? It's funny because aging really sneaks up on you. One day you have the world as your oyster, the next you are wondering if the oyster will upset your digestion. I have to say, it is not an easy pill for me to swallow.
I recently rejoined an adult jazz and hip hop dance that I started going to in my late 20's. Then, my husband used to call us the "Hot Moms Dance Class" and I remember us being really spectacular (even though I was always a count behind everyone else). After a several year hiatus due to other commitments, I rejoined the "Hot Moms Dance Class" in hopes of recreating that period of my life. I love to dance, I love hanging with the girls and I love the teacher who leads us to choreographed superstardom at the local high school auditorium during 'recital week'. Well, a couple weeks into our class and I have noticed some things have changed.
First of all, we aren't as energetic as I remember the group to be. The intensity of learning and performing has been drowned out by the ladies (including myself) preferring to chit chat than move our booties to the beat. That is the other thing...we are attempting to dance to current melodic hip hop songs, but found ourselves the other night longing for...wait for it...Chaka Khan. We are now old ladies!! Who knew that one day the OLD LADIES would like Chaka Khan? I thought OLD LADIES liked Bing Crosby? When did this happen? Oh, and I love it when we get on the discussion of our failing bodies - "my hip needs tuning up" - "my back is really killing me" - "I have to stop because my bunion is really sore". I would be laughing if I wasn't so scared of what is going to come next. I am sure I will be dead soon. My life is practically over at 35.
So, in the fear of the unknown that old age will bring me, I decided that its time to blog. I need to leave the lessons of my life for the next generation. If you are reading this, thank you for coming. I promise with every story that I share, you will always get brutal honesty, no matter how bad it may make me look. I am a strong believer that we are meant to be our authentic selves in order to really connect to people. Here I am, warts and all.
