The Swim to my 50s-Gracias, Pope Francis!

Our new Pope is 77 years old and he got the job! Do you know what this means?  That…you can still succeed and accomplish great things after 50!  This news has made me rethink and ponder my attitude towards the big day coming up.  At least for a day, that is.   For a whole day I felt that maybe it’s not so depressing to get older and that the best is yet to come!  Until, I resumed my task of exploring my body from head to toe in preparation for the “big day”.

I took a look at my ears, forehead, eyes and nose.  When I say look, I mean a real look with a 10x little mirror that magnifies every pore on your body and more!  For the love of God (and the Pope), why?  Why did I do this?  Let’s just say I could see beyond my epidermis and into my cells, blood vessels and bones!  Well, not really but it was that magnified!


My ears are round and small; what do you know?  They suit my small shaped head.  This pleases me, except that I can’t get the image of my dear grandfather (God bless his soul) whose ears grew as he shrunk, out of my mind.  We are talking huge!!!  Every time we visited with him they were bigger!  We stared and wondered how much bigger they could get.  So you see, I fear that my nice small ears will begin to grow and grow and grow.  I will be punished  for staring at my grandfather’s ears as a child,  I know it!  Something I will keep an eye on.

Have you ever stared deeply into your forehead? Not the most exciting thing I have done lately, but something a 49-year-old must do!  The verdict:  a small,  round unassuming, somewhat wrinkle-free slab of skin.  Not too bad.  Except for the visibly despicable brown spots!!! Yes, I have them and I loathe them.  I mistakenly let the little mirror wonder down to the rest of my face, and they are everywhere!  Why, oh why haven’t they come out with a solution for brown spots and for stretch marks for that matter!   I will come back to the topic of brown spots at a later date when I tell you about my cousin, the plastic surgeon.

Eyebrows are ok.  I have not been brave enough to venture to my local mall to sit in front of hundreds of people, while a nice quiet lady threads them!  Ouch!   I will stick to my archaic method of plucking, thank you very much.  I would however, love to get them shaped.  I will add this to my turning 50 to do list.

Now, bear with me.  I promise that I am not all shallow and vain.  In future posts, I will delve into my spiritual and meaningful thoughts about turning 50.  Let me tread through the outside part of me first. 🙂

My wonderful husband of 23 years, has always told me that he fell in love with my eyes before he fell in love with me.  He loves my big brown eyes.  The same ones I used to stare at my grandfather’s ears.  Now don’t get me wrong, I like my eyes, but where in the world did my eyelashes go?  I admit that I never had long vivacious (Stephanopoulos-like)  eyelashes like those of my beautiful younger sister, but they did exist.  Why is it that the facial hair you don’t want is the hair that keeps on growing but eyelashes just stop?  So, I thought I would experiment and do what millions of women are doing now.  Wear fake eyelashes!!  I decided that getting the whole set would look too fake so I bought a package of  individual lashes that you can glue on to the spots  you want.  How hard could this possibly be?    Well, after several attempts at placing the lashes in the right spot without getting the gooey white glue in my eye (that stuff stings) and looking like Tammy Faye Baker once I got several to stick, I had to stop.  FYI, the gooey glue stays stuck on the lashes and is hard to remove.  Mascara will have to do.

Except for the f-%#$@ brown spots, my nose is a pretty average nose.  Not too pointy and not too wide.  I won’t be running to my plastic surgeon cousin any time soon for a nose job.  I am however, worried about my olfactory capabilities, or lack there of.  I’m not saying that not being able to smell very well does not come in handy at times,  as I discovered when my son borrowed my car to go fishing and spilled the little can of maggots all over the interior or when my daughter finally brought home the 3 week old coffee mug with milk still in it, from her locker at school.  But, it’s studies like these,   suggesting that there may be a connection between a dulled sense of smell and Alzheimer’s, that make me lose sleep.   One more worry to add to my master list of what-ifs!  Makes me wonder what Pope Francis’ olfactory capabilities are.  Hmm.

Fortunately, I am not the type of person to fret too much over things that are out of my control.  Living with Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) has taught me many things, some of which are strength, humor and a Never Give Up attitude.  So, although I did not come in first in today’s relay, I had fun swimming to my 50s with you!

Next post will take you into the world of my lips, mouth, cheeks, chin and neck!  Remember,  Good Things Come to those who Bait.

2 thoughts on “The Swim to my 50s-Gracias, Pope Francis!

  1. If I looked like you, I wouldn’t worry one bit! Not one bit! And YES!! Greatness… big things…opportunity can arrive, even at 77! Though, I’m in no rush to get there!


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