Is wearing a sexy bikini at 50 a good look?
Who said middle age was the end of fashion sense? Do those wrinkles and love-handles really look attractive, or is my darling husband just saying that so he won’t have to dodge projected missiles all through the spring? I love that he supports me in nearly everything, however those heels and that thong take work to get into!
Summer holidays
What is it about women and getting ready for the summer? And we’re on a losing wicket anyway. What with Christmas, New Year and then Valentine’s Day. It is like the world is trying to stuff us with cake, chocolates and wine before we are even out of the starting blocks for the countdown to the dreaded two weeks by the beach. There are only so many parachute dresses one can pack for the days by the ocean.
When I close my eyes, I don’t see the sunshine or the pina coladas. No. Just those diets and exercises, boot camps and tears. No, I don’t fit into those thongs or the thigh-length boots anymore. I’m not sure I can even get my hands down them, let alone those swollen feet. As I flick through my wardrobe, I consider whether my favourite jeans and tops that through over use may have probably gained a few sizes. Perhaps I really am a size ten, or maybe jeans just stretch really well? Sadly, I think it is perhaps the latter. However, I am proud of the label on the back. Those little numbers of 10 or 12 really mean a lot. But should they? Funnily enough, even the digital scales’ batteries have been “lost”. Has it been a conspiracy or just a coincidence? I see my husband making for the door as I finally fit the batteries and put the scales onto the floor. Who said scales never lie? Let me go and murder them excruciatingly slowly. Interestingly, if I put the scales on the floor just over in that slightly uneven spot, I am sure to lose a few pounds, or is that kilos? And who is to say which number is the correct one. I am sure it should be the the lower measurement. If I squint my eyes hard enough, that 8 becomes a 3, or is it the other way around? Does becoming menopausal make you gain weight? Does that mean that when I stop being menopausal I will lose those 5, 10 or maybe 20 kilos that seem to have got themselves trapped within my body? Why did they get trapped in my body and not hers? Maybe I should be eating less salt. Apparently that makes your body bloat up and store water. Those extra kilos are definitely due to all those salty crisps I was eating. Or was it the added extras at film night, that just happened to be every night?
“How?” I hear you wail…
In the end all those extra pounds or kilos will have to come off before the summer holidays. The time is quickly approaching when you meet up with family and friends as you swish (or wobble) through the crowds in the heels you are not used to, and wearing the dress that gets brought out just once a year.
Exercise
So I thought about the training that soldiers go through. Of course not boot camp! No, the training that they have to do to get to the interview. Initial training. Before initial training. The easy stuff. As I try to do squats and lunges, I eye up whether I should have a go at the press-ups. Perhaps I might just give that exercise a day or two. I’m not sure I am going to be able to do one, let alone twenty. Maybe I try the suggested exercise before the press-ups. As I huff and puff trying to do the press-ups of someone who has been in a retirement home for a decade… yes, the “finger press-ups” against a wall, I have a think about the fitness journey on which I am about to embark. On the internet there is the “couch to 5km” training. Is there a “couch to 1km” journey first? Running sounds like a good plan. It is free, good for the environment, and I don’t need to buy anything. Perhaps I need to do some fast walking first.
Marital support
I started my exercise plan last week. I thought about going for a run. Hubbie wanted me to take some first-aid and a flare gun with me. No, of course he didn’t but he did wet himself at the thought of his wife doing a 30min run. That’s what nearly thirty years of faith in the other person does to your partner. They collapse into a heap of tears of laughter when you suggest something completely unrealistic. Maybe a gentle word of warning could have been less brutal, but the guffaws do the trick too. So maybe I shouldn’t mention my plan yet about taking part in the 24hr trail run in the Pyrenees in the autumn. Nevertheless, I thought I should dream big.
Food
All this exercise, but “what about the diet?” I hear some of you sadistic people call out. I can see you eating your burgers and chocolate bars and considering whether to go for that second slice of carrot cake. My daughter loves it when I come out at each lunchtime now with my pathetic little bowl of watery green soup. She also loves me dearly too, but funnily enough she never seems want to give me moral support and join me in my meal choices.
So the dieting is going “well”. Particularly when you realise that you have defrosted someone else’s dinner (and not your own) due to bad organisation skills and a slip up on the marker pen and the freezer bag. Back to soup again. I have tried to put in flavours such as ginger, curry and coriander, but that doesn’t take away the fact there is no texture or even taste in the bland liquid. And I am not sure if one of the vegetables was slightly “off” when they all got blended up together, as there is an over-riding taste of something strange. At least it isn’t as bad as the cabbage soup diet I once tried. Now that was torture!
So I have become vegetarian, stopped eating chocolate and sweets, ceased eating dairy cheese and now, horror of horrors, I am going on the dreaded health drive for the summer. And I have to make sure it is all health-conscious, environmentally-friendly and has a low carbon footprint. No wonder people end up having a midlife crisis. What is there left? Sustainable weed anyone?
In the end it all comes down to confidence
I know I am going to try my hardest and get a few of those pounds off. And when the summer rolls in, I will have a whale of a time at the cocktail bar and on the sandy beach. Who can wear heels on a beach anyway? It will be those dainty little flipflops for me with the faux encrusted diamonds. I am sure I will be able to run into a sunset in those. The sarong will be wrapped around my frame hiding the “thong”, and with the sun shining, I will see all those other fifty-somethings also not having a care in the world. I’ll be sporting a fake tan and the sunscreen slapped on. The photos will be of course all looking upwards, facing the right and not the left. The mascara will accentuate those eyes, and the black swimsuit will hide a multitude of sins. Experience and familiarity in the body I was given, in the end, is the winner here and for another year (at least) I will be that supermodel propping up the beach bar. Until then, where did I put those lettuce leaves…
MidLife Crisis In France
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