Turning 49

On June 5, I turned 49. Knocking on 50's door sounds old when I view it as a chunk of time, almost half of a century. Fifty, like every decade that seemed too old and impossible for me to enter, beginning with 30, becomes more youthful, appropriate -- not so old -- the closer I get to it. Looking back at the milestone years, especially viewing photographs, I think...Man, I was young. Why was I so self-conscious of my appearance? I also recall what was happening in my life -- the things that troubled me and left me dissatisfied and unfulfilled. What could have possibly given me stress? I should have enjoyed more and worried less. Moved through the struggles and challenges, breathing and knowing everything would to be all right. Not easy, but all right.

I spent my birthday mostly solo. My teenage sons had long-laid plans with friends to spend the day and evening at a local amusement park, celebrating the end of the school year. My husband had to work, although he offered to do anything I wanted. I wanted to get my nails done, which I did at 7:30 AM. I wanted to see a movie that I knew neither my husband nor 9-year-old son would likely enjoy. And I wanted to shop for and choose a new mountain bike. The time alone truly appealed to me.

The movie was Iris. With freshly painted red toenails and Tiffany Blue fingernails, I made my way to downtown Salt Lake City, battling traffic generated by the Utah Pride Festival and a public funeral service at Temple Square for an LDS apostle who died earlier in the week. The contrasting attire and general energy contained within cars and spilling onto sidewalks amused me. Midday, at the Broadway Centre Theatre with seven other viewers -- all older than me by at least 20 years -- I was touched and inspired by Iris Apfel and her husband, Carl. It was the perfect documentary to watch on a day that began with me baking my birthday cake (after returning from my early morning nail appointment), thinking about aging, and contemplating new boobs. All things I'm perfectly comfortable with.

I'm far from a fashionista like Iris, although I enjoy creating and playing with aesthetics and style. But Iris Apfel is more than her fashion icon label; she's a woman who's lived life fully, is intelligent, curious, and well-matched with her adoring husband, Carl. She knows who she is and is unapologetic, yet not nasty or unkind. I just love her. And Carl. Maybe you will, too.

One week into being 49, I've handled the mundane -- scheduled windows and carpets to be cleaned, received bids on house repairs, grocery shopped and laundered for the family -- and fielded a TB scare (yes, as in tuberculosis -- I don't have it). I've also laughed with friends, run on trails, worked on my manuscript, read entertaining fiction, and looked out spotless windows. All with brightly colored nails and a renewed tenacity for life, dreams, and fluidity...

...while a sheepdog who loves me patiently waits for my attention.

John and my nails. 

Braces

I chose to have braces put on my teeth two years ago.  Just in time for my 25th high school reunion.  Neato.

One friend commented that braces would give me plenty of blog fodder.  But there wasn't much to say about them after the initial post introducing my new accessory.  I carried Ortho Wax and knew which neighborhood kids to call when I ran out.  My teeth ached occasionally and Mother asked, "When do you get those off?" EVERY time she saw me.

My braces seemed more visually intense than other mouthfuls I've seen.  Maybe it was because I selected traditional silver, wore power chains most months, or have small teeth.  Regardless, I felt like I looked like Jaws in the James Bond movies.

*****

I met a little boy named Albert in an Anaheim laundromat last March.  We were in California for a family vacation and I needed to wash clothes.  Four-year-old Albert asked me for money and mints that night while his mother and I did our laundry next to one another.  I gave him both as his mom said, "Albert! Eso no es amable."  That's not polite. 

He was round and dimpled.  The plump kind of child that I was certain would pop if I stuck a pin in him.  But I fell in love with Albert after he took one look at my smile and said, "Nice grill."

*****

My braces finally came off in November.  I apologize to my Facebook friends who have already seen the following photo, but I promised Gabi With An Eye a sans braces shot in this post.

So there you go.  It took me a few weeks to get used to my new teeth.  I felt like I looked strange and radically different.  Like when someone Photoshops big teeth on an animal or small child.

Recently, I purchased two new pairs of glasses.  One pair has progressive lenses.  I get motion sick easily and I'd heard that adjusting to no-line bifocals can make a person nauseous.  I figured the larger the lens, the smoother the adjustment.

My theory worked.  A little vertigo for the first few hours, but the bifocal sweet spot is small compared to the large distance lens.  I adapted quickly.  Only now it doesn't matter that I'm not wearing braces, because I look like the smart turtle in children's books.

Be honest...

I like comfortable shoes.  I'm also a typical gal who likes to look pulled together with my own sense of style.  It's a very casual style that I have, but I feel silly if I try to dress like a Junior League-er or keep up with the trendsetters when in reality I'm a quasi-urban-granola meets wanna-be-urban-cowgirl who loves her pearls and a well structured blouse once in a while [maybe that is a bit Junior League-ish].

I don't work outside the home.  Some days I only leave the house to pick up the older boys from school, so it's just 4-year-old boy and me together... all day.  Other days I take kids to music lessons, karate, run errands [not fancy places], and occasionally meet Chris for lunch.  I'm usually puttering around the house and yard [read here], doing the things that most stay-at-home parents do to keep the house running smoothly.

Again, I like comfortable shoes.  I've tried to deviate [read here], but I always return to comfortable.

When I went to Texas a couple of weeks ago for my 25th high school reunion, I packed what I thought were very cute [and comfortable] shoes.  I wore a pair of Dansko Mary Jane's on the plane and changed into a pair of Dansko green strappy sandals, with a heel, when I arrived at my friend Vicki's house because it was hotter than I expected.

As I unpacked, my two friends, Vicki and Betty, were there chatting as we played show-and-tell with clothes, photos and hair drama.  I showed them the shoes I brought and how I planned to incorporate them into my reunion outfits [this was a very casual reunion].

Vicki said, "Those look like something my grandma would wear."

Betty chose her words carefully, "It's just...  well... you look like you stepped out of a Columbia catalog."

I was shocked.  "You don't think these are cute?!  I'm not a Dallas-girl, ya' know.  This is me.  I live in Utah and I schlep kids around all day.  My life is very casual... and sporty."

My friends wouldn't budge so I didn't wear anything Dansko to the reunion functions.  But I wore my comfortable shoes the rest of the time in Texas.

My Dansko collection:

 

They're not that bad.  Are they?

I have cute Non-Dansko shoes too.  A few kitten heels, strappy flats, and a couple pairs of I-Look-Ridiculous-In-These-Because-They're-So-Not-Me-But-My-Husband-Loves-Them high heels.

Maybe it's time for me to change brands of comfortable shoes.  I asked a gal at Anthropologie if she liked the Dansko Mary Jane's I was wearing the other day.  She said she did.  I figured she would because... she works at Anthropologie.  I needed the easy stroke.  She mentioned, politely of course, that I might find some comfortable, but up to date, styles on the Frye website.

I don't know.  Are they that bad?  Be honest.  [Except you, Vicki, Betty, and Dallas-girls.]