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Fifty-seven was good. Fifty-eight sucked. Let’s try fifty-nine on for size.

How the heck did I get to be this old? I don’t feel 59. I’ve never had a problem with my age. Whenever anyone asked me how old I was, I always told them. I’ve never been vain enough to lie. That seems stupid to me. “Thirty-nine and holding”. Yeah, in your dreams, Grandma. Everyone ages. That’s one thing we all have in common.

We all get old, we all get wrinkled. Our skin sags, our hair falls out or goes gray, and our teeth turn yellow or disappear altogether. Celebrities with their Botox, their surgeries and their fake blindingly white teeth aren’t kidding anyone. They’re old, and they need to get over themselves.

I have jokingly used the phrase, “I’m old” since I was in my 30’s. I have a cute video of my 27-year old son when he was just a little guy (maybe 3 or 4) telling our daycare provider, “My Mommy’s old” as if it was some scandalous secret. It was something he’d heard me say all the time. Looking back now, I realize I was in the best shape of my life at that time. I was just too dumb to realize it.

Now I really am old or at least getting closer to it. I have more years behind me than I do in front of me. I try not to focus on that. The mirror does show me that I’m no longer a fresh-faced innocent. I see age and experience looking back at me. I feel pretty good. Some days are better than others. Some days I feel prettier than others.

I’m still breathing. I’m still on the right side of the dirt. I can still rock a tight pair of leggings and my favorite band t-shirt. I listen to loud music and still enjoy the hell out of it. I ain’t complaining.

This is what 59 looks like.

First thing today – unadorned and unmade-up.25FE78EB-B3F7-476A-A9DF-B5B20E0FAF60.jpeg

Out and about today – getting second pair of glasses adjusted.D0DD0EE5-02AD-427F-87EE-6D05584A78A3.jpeg

Wearing my second pair of glasses. I think I like the plainer pair better now. I got used to them.6157C9CC-04F4-4E0A-AE9E-A5EB367A7A6B.jpeg

Getting my oil changed at Valvoline.2DC42F3A-B96F-47A3-B893-A172B7418012.jpeg

Back at home again.A1E482EE-1449-47C8-8A61-A40B83428E44.jpeg

As I kick off this last year of my sixth decade I hope for a year of continued health and happiness. Life is good. I have three good men sharing it with me. No, I’m definitely not complaining.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow


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And, now for something completely different…

Actually, not so different. The theme here lately seems to be discussing uncomfortable things. Nasty things having to do with digestion appear here on this blog with regular frequency now. To continue on with the uncomfortable topic theme, I’m now going to address female hair loss.

It seems a shame to me that we women have to share baldness with men. A guy can he bald and still be sexy as hell. A woman? Not so much. Hair loss for women is devastating. My late mother had a box of wigs in her closet that I didn’t even know she had. I found them when we were cleaning her house out. Obviously her hair loss bothered her. I’m not sure I could wear a wig. I’m not big on hats. Although I’ve taken to wearing a ball cap to protect my head in the sun or to hold my hair in place in a high wind or to keep my hairstyle dry in the rain.

I had a hysterectomy twelve years ago (in 2006). I was 47, and I had suffered from endometriosis (without knowing that was what it was) for years upon years. I had a major surgery to remove what I thought was my left ovary, and when I woke up, I found that the silly doctor had only removed the cyst. Of course, it came right back and within five months they were opening me up along the same incision and doing a second major surgery to complete the hysterectomy.

I never suffered from hot flashes so I chose NOT to go on hormone replacement therapy because of all the blood pressure and stroke-related issues that can come with HRT.  Unfortunately, with the sudden loss of the regular production of female hormones, my hair immediately began to thin.

I remember my Grandmother (who lived to age 98) running her hands through my hair when I was a teenager and her saying, “I used to have hair just like this.” My grandmother might have been long-lived, but her hair unfortunately was not. She had only wisps of white hair left at the end. Although pictures of her as a young woman showed her with thick, bushy dark hair, none of us remembered her with anything but thin, white hair.

My mother’s hair was thick in the back and on the sides but read-through thin on the top. I recall trying to help her do a home permanent and not being able to find any hair to wrap around the perm rollers.

I don’t curl my hair. I don’t need to. It’s naturally curly on its own. Now that it’s longer, if I let it air dry, it will curl. I had gone to wearing it natural (curly). It was nice for the hot and humid summer, but leaving the house with a wet head in 10 degree upstate New York weather wasn’t working for me. I’m back to blow drying and InStyling it (a combination curling iron and flatiron). I use a volumizing shampoo and conditioner. I like Matrix Volume Bloom. I finish with CHI Silk Infusion because my hair needs oil and I love the smell. I also use a leave-in conditioner spray.

I do a credible job with a good haircut and creative styling at keeping the thin parts covered.



It is steadily falling out on top, though. According to, “Daily hair loss of between 50 and 100 hairs is considered normal.” Do I lose more than that? I’m not sure. I try not to comb it very often. I only use a brush when I blow dry it. Finger-combing works the rest of the time. I usually only wash it now every other day unless it looks or feels terrible.

My stylist recently recommended a “miracle” product, a shampoo, conditioner and serum that was supposed to regrow hair. I tried it, and it just didn’t work for me. The conditioner in particular was nasty stuff, very drying and it left my hair in knots. I’d been having dry scalp problems, and the miracle product made my hair like straw. I guess it’s not for everyone. Then again, usually things that sound too good to be true, aren’t. If there was a miracle product that brought back hair, there would be no bald people.

I went to the dermatologist Monday, and she prescribed a topical liquid to deal with the dry scalp I’ve been experiencing. She also suggested I increase the dose of my spironolactone, one of my blood pressure medicines. Spironolactone is also used for hair loss. Who knew? And she suggested I give Rogaine another try, the foam not the liquid this time. I saw zero regrowth with the liquid. She tells me that regrowth might not happen for me, but we’re going to try to hang onto what I have left.

We do what we have to do to maintain our dignity, I guess.

Rogaine image courtesy of Pinterest 

Psyllium Anyone?


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Psyllium is the main ingredient in Metamucil. My gastroenterologist suggested I begin taking psyllium tablets to help my belly issues. The tablets are supposedly more palatable than the powder form of psyllium. I used to drink Metamucil powder (the orange flavor) for my IBS. It’s been a while since I’ve used it.

Diverticula (or pouches on the intestinal wall) form because of age and because there’s not enough fiber in the diet. The “itis” part comes when those pouches get food stuck in them and an infection starts. That’s diverticulitis in my layman’s terms.

I have never been a healthy eater. As a stick-skinny pre-teen, I was an extremely picky eater. My older brother used to tease me relentlessly, insisting my mom just feed me birdseed since I ate like a bird. My mother usually served meat, potatoes and a vegetable. There were lots of pies, cakes and cookies. She enjoyed baking.

After I got married, I served meat and potatoes and I gradually learned to eat and enjoy some fruits and vegetables. I had to be careful with fiber because of my IBS. Healthy food always seemed to race right through me. I did great with Weight Watchers Selection Plan (similar to Richard Simmons’ Deal-A-Meal program). You ate based on the food pyramid and had so many selections of dairy, meat, fruit, vegetables, breads and fats/oils that you had to eat each day. It forced me to eat a variety of foods.

As I aged and endometriosis and IBS both took their toll on me and my digestive system, variety got to be more of an issue. I transitioned to more of a straight meat and potatoes diet with only an occasional salad. When diverticulitis reared its ugly head, I was put on a low fiber diet, and there I’ve stayed.

My GI doctor changed my probiotic. I’m now on the generic form of the Phillips’ Colon Health probiotic. My primary care doctor put me back on a multivitamin when I expressed concern over my limited diet. I now take two Flintstones gummies daily. Now I contemplate adding in the fiber capsules. Another change for my system, and probably enough to put it into fits until I adjust again.

What’s that old expression? Youth is wasted on the young? Then there’s Health is wealth. I do believe that health is wasted on the young. I took good health and feeling well on a daily basis for granted. Now that feeling well is more of a day to day thing, I wish I’d taken the time to appreciate what I had when I had it.

Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. – Joni Mitchell, 1970

Not Such a Good Decision


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1D3E1FD9-3578-4567-AE89-CB71245F41BE.jpegBrisket. Yes, it’s a cut of beef, and I probably shouldn’t have Googled it because once I saw where it comes from on the cow, and I read all about how it’s cooked to make it tender because it’s a fatty cut of meat because of all the ‘connective tissue’, etc. Well, just yuck, okay? I could easily be a vegetarian IF I could actually eat veggies.

Anyway, I’ve always been a fan of brisket because it’s yummy.  I had a hankering for it yesterday, and I was feeling pretty good so I took a chance.  I sent hubby out for some Dinosaur Barbecue.  I had brisket and a quarter barbecue chicken (white meat). I had fries and baked beans as my sides, and it came with corn bread. It was an ambitious meal for someone who typically eats white rice, white bread, white potatoes, baked chicken breast and the occasional baked boneless pork chop. I don’t do adventurous anymore. I can’t.

I probably shouldn’t have last night either. I finally felt able to lie down in bed at 4:00 this morning, and I was still tasting the barbecue.  I ate all the brisket (two or three small slices), I nibbled a little of the chicken (none of the skin), and I had a few fries. That’s it. No beans and no corn bread. My belly was not happy. Not at all. Oh, well. Welcome to my world.

Today is a slow go. I’m listening to tunes and looking at pictures of rock stars on Pinterest while hubby watches YouTube videos of various technological gadgets at the moment. Doesn’t get anymore exciting than that here, folks. I’m writing (blog post and personal fiction) as I sit here. Housework (making beds and vacuuming) coming up shortly.