Gotta love the picture of me that was flashing, over and over again, across the the wall all night for folks to see. Totally can’t live up to my youth, but then I am not sure anyone can. I know I don’t ever want to be “THAT” young again. I wouldn’t mind having the body, but NOT the ignorance–just sayin’. How exhausting that time of my life was–Youth is for the young–something I am not in number of years, but in attitude YES! I think I will be young until I depart this world and move into the next.
I wasn’t exactly excited about the pictures from my high school reunion, but I am going to share them anyway. I felt pretty that night, but when the pictures came in I wasn’t very excited. It sorta drove home my frustration with being in this blasted holding pattern. At least I know when it comes maintenance time I will not have a single problem holding my weight steady, but I have to say that I am ready to get on with my program of losing.
OH … enough with the whining … on with the show. By-the-way: I don’t think youth is waisted on the young. All that youth is the energy required to make it to adulthood and forward. Just imagine trying to relive that time at the age you are now … makes ya tired just thinking about it.
Have I mentioned that I really hate my hair cut? I did this to myself so there is no one to blame. YUCK! I needed to add here Mikey had to MAKE me wear these shoes out of the room. Well, make me is a bit strong, he had to keep telling me how hot I looked and that he loved the shoes and wanted to see me in them. There was this young (ugly I might add) biddy girl in the elevator down who said to me, “you look so tired and it is only 7:30, how are you going to make it all night.” In my defense I was muttering under my breath questions to Mike about was he sure about these shoes when she shares her lack of wisdom with me. She say’s this to me, while wearing what looks like a gown she has slept in for days with hair that has the appearance of never having been brushed, and horribly applied make up. I looked at her with what I am sure was hatred and spat at her, “well I am 50 years old what the hell is your problem?” as I stomped out of the elevator. Not a great start when I was already nervous. Mikey loved the shoes so I wore them and I danced in them. So there!
Life’s good … Blessings … S