Search This Blog

Sunday, April 08, 2007

The first 50 years







Fifty. 50. Half a century. Five decades. That’s me. I turned “the big five – O” earlier this year.

And, I drove my friends and family crazy reminding them of my impending “old age.” I thought if I said it long and loud enough, it would be easier for me to accept that I was 50 years old. It worked. Sort of.

What is 50 supposed to feel like, and for that matter, look like really?

Madonna, the material girl herself, is almost 50. She’s still selling c.d.’s and still selling out on her tours. And then again, recently I spoke with a woman with gray hair and wrinkles who was in a wheelchair. I thought she was much older. She was only 52.

So age, I suppose is up to the individual.

So I’m hitting the gym again with a vengeance, determined in the next six months, to lose 50 pounds. I’m in yoga class every day, hoping to recapture some of the flexibility I once had. It’s working. I feel younger. Might not LOOK younger, but I feel younger. The looking young part is coming in small doses with cosmetic treatments here and there. Again, I might not necessarily look younger, but I feel better.

Call it my midlife crisis, if you will. I’m also reassessing my job, where I live, where I want to be when I’m 55.

Not that I have any regrets. I look back at the past 50 years and all the phases of my life. My ‘mother earth’ stage when I grew all my own vegetables and my dream was to live on a self-sustaining farm. My yuppie phase when my dream was to make millions and park the nicest car on the block in front of the biggest house. And, then returning back to college, finding a new career. It’s all been fun. I’ve lived in at least nine states and two countries, and traveled a lot. I’ve listened to rock bands in muddy fields, watched Broadway Shows in New York, acted and sang on stage myself, started a theater group, was editor of an infamous campus newspaper, met presidents and spent time on the street with homeless people. I’ve written letters and books and share the dream to write more. I’ve no regrets. I have wonderful friends scattered around the globe, I have three children, four grandchildren and the love of my life beside me.

I don’t know what phase I’m in now. Doesn’t matter. It will be fun.

It’s never too late until well…it’s too late. So for now, I’m on a mission to “find myself” yet again. Hubby’s along for the ride. We’re having fun. And, maybe that’s what makes being 50 okay. Finding myself when I was 18 or 21 or even 30 wasn’t so much fun.

I thought about lying about my age. But then again, that would require me asking all my children to lie about their age. I’m 50. Whew.


7 comments:

Melessa said...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! (and welcome back-I missed you!)

Gina said...

Happy Birthday, C.!! The best is yet to come. :)

Redneck. Diva. said...

I LOVE this post!

As trite as it may sound...YOU GO GIRL!

Happy birthday. 50 looks good on you!

Sherrie said...

Happy Birthday. There's no way you are 50.

You are awesome. And you look better at 50 than I do right now at 33. :)

Scott said...

Hey, it's 50 supposed to be the new 40? Or 49? Or, uh, something? It's good to take stock of where you are and where you've come from, and to take satisfaction in that. I think that's one of the things we don't do enough of. Congrats on the half-century mark...

Anonymous said...

Bravo! Reassessment is a fine thing. There's got to be life off the treadmill.

Signed,

John, on a horrible treadmill

CISSY said...

M -- Thank you. Missed ya'll too. I promise to do better!

Gina- absolutely.

Diva -- Thanks, Chica.

Sherrie -- Hey, you still look like you're in your 20s!

Scott -- It's the new 30. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

John -- No, no, no, you are not on a treadmill. If so, jump off!