Growing Older Gracefully

I am trying not to stare. I am attempting to subtly catch a glimpse of some anatomical feature of the person walking in front of me which would tip me off to the gender of the person…a waist, hips, some sensual backside curve. I, sadly, can find nothing. The person I am staring at turns out to be a middle aged woman with short hair (short for convenience, not for edgey fashion) in a boxy dark business suit—non-descript earrings and a scarf to denote sex.

Have you noticed the de-feminization of women in the United States as they get older?

I am not sure if it is a resent occurrence because I have only recently started obsessing about women slightly older than I am in an attempt to find a fashion role model. My mother, although not a beautiful woman, was always striking and she had a particular style that was all her own right up into her 70’s.

Now I see middle aged women in suits with no real shape, or in easy-fit mom-jeans. I think there is a certain giving oneself over to the ravages of time rather than embracing a new age. I, of course, blame the media and for women who take the bait--hook, line and sinker. It is not just that the media holds this bizarre ideal of teen beauty as a pinnacle for all women, but they place older women in oddly gender neutral positions…like automatons who take care of children or the house. We are the ones who care about the dirty carpet by the front door. We are the ones who obsess about dust and germs in the home. Or at work—we are the ones who are serious…we are the ones who get things done while the men talk.

Just like in adolescence—I feel with middle-age the need to redefine myself. No longer a young girl, no longer a care taker of a baby, no longer needed for childcare. I want to be more European in attitude. European women take time for themselves, they feel it is their right to feel beautiful at any age. I am guessing—but I think, at least, Parisian woman feel it is more important to shop for the perfect scarf than obsess about germs on their bidets.

I refuse to slip into the asexual role that the media has created for moms of a certain age. The Beast is grown-up and what she needs now is not a maid, not a chauffeur, not an ATM, but a role model. A positive role model of a woman who enjoys life, sex, and really a good meal with friends. I am off to find the perfect scarf.

FItness Friday/Saturday--Last Day

I am SO sleepy. This cold weather has just slowed me down completely. That and my new found passion for baking bread (How crunchy is THAT?). Anyhoo…YAWN…the first phase of the competition ends tomorrow.

Since I do not have a scale I had to run to Ms. PR house this afternoon to do a quick weigh-in and to my surprise…I had not gain weight as I suspected. I actually lost A POUND! Okay, okay—granted it was 13 pounds short of what my goal was…but I am not giving up. In fact--Ms. Seize the Moment, Ms. HR, Ms. Proud Procrastinator and I are continuing on in our quest for the perfect body. However, this time we are doing percentage of weight lost rather than BMI or poundage.

So the final day is Sunday for the Phase I competition…so please send your final BMI number (in strictest confidence) to lazymomcafe@gmail.com and I will crown the winner tomorrow.

Not to scare anyone off—but Ms. HR came back with her new BMI and she has dropped 1.5 BMI numbers. I, on the other hand, have dropped .2 BMI.

If you want to join phase II of the Iron Mom competition—please e-mail your weight (again in strictest confidence ) to lazymomcafe@gmail.com .

Don't Put This On Your Blog!!!

“Don’t put this in your blog!” were the first words I heard when I picked up my phone messages. Of course, I have been trying to think of a blog title ever since. The breathy message went on....”the doctor said I have to lose 30 pounds!!!! 30 POUNDS!!! I mean it—don’t put this in your blog! If you do--I will KILL you...”

I don’t know about you, but I had always been rather thin, as was Ms 30-Extra-Pounds. Not rail thin, but within the 2-4 jean size thin. I almost had a melt down when I hit 130 when I was pregnant. Now I would be happy to ever see 130 again. 130 is like ancient history now and for some reason this history seems not to be repeating itself.

It happened slowly, people warned me it would, but I did not listen to those old fat people. In my youth I could eat two slices of pizza and wash it down with a pitcher of beer and have no ill effects except perhaps a new boyfriend. Occasionally, if I were going to the beach—the week before I would do some sit-ups to get my stomach flatter, but never did I think to jump on a Stairmaster or diet....pleassseee.

Even now the idea of going to the gym with all those big sweaty women on the Elliptical machines horrifies me. Obviously THAT machine is not working. Or dieting—have you seen the people who are at the “salad bars?” The people lumbering into those Weight Watchers meetings? What could be worse than listening to other fat people talk about their failures. But I NEED help so true to form—I choose my local library to assist me with my weight problem.

My friend with her extra 30 pounds, who will soon be knocking down my door in a Mafioso style hit, decided to go the same route with Skinny Bitch/ a no-nonsense, tough-love guide for savvy girls who want to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous! by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin for her inspiration. I felt the title was way too long and it didn’t sound fun enough for me—especially the giving up meat and coffee part.

Instead I looked to the French for inspiration....they are thin, they are sexy and they drink red wine and coffee—two of my staples...you don’t see French women sweating or talking about “baked” potato chips. So yesterday when I took The Beast for her weekly library fix. I checked out Mireille Guiliano's French Women Don't Get Fat.

I just love it and if I manage to get rid of my back fat—I will let everyone know…it is 3 month ”recalibration of your eating habits”—so check back at the end of January and I will let you know if it works.

Off to get red wine!