Issues

Issues - we all have them.  I was married to a man for 22 years who asked everytime I had a hostess cupcake if I really needed it.  Need?  no.  Want?  yes.  That rubbed off on my daughter and my son but not thru me - thru him.  I always like to say that old dear phrase - If I'd known then, what I know now. . . .

So, I'm not 23 anymore which happens to be my favorite age of all time.  I look back and was so worried about being too thin.  Really?  My breasts were too small, my legs too skinny, no hips and generally didn't know about any kind of good hair product or how to properly tweeze my eyebrows and still wish I was there again.  So that being said. . .

I'm 23 on the inside in terms of energy, outlook for the future and exuberance for life.  I still feel I have at least 70 years ahead of me and feel I can physically do anything I want and still look 23.  Yeah, about that.

So it's been a little over 3 years since I lost 50 pounds, gained 8 back and still think I need to lose more weight.  I don't see what the others do.  Why the hell I feel the need to still do sit-ups, work my arms, tone my legs which seems to be a losing battle is beyond me.  But, that's exactly the attitude that keeps me from wearing elastic waist band pants, nursing shoes with velcro straps and loose comfortable tops. I keep asking DD to tell me when, in his words, "need to tuck that shit in".  This is referring to shorts too low, shirt too tight or pants not doing me any favors.  So far, he hasn't had to.  I'm my own worst critic but I also have kids that need to be able to NOT be embarrassed but rather smile and say "that's my mom".

We go dancing just about every Thursday and if not then the next day or two of every week.  First of all it't fantastic exercise and secondly, I love dancing with DD.  He is very very good.  I've spoken before of the numerous folks that ask us to teach them on cruise ships, compliment at the clubs and just smile in our direction.  DD always says - "If you aren't screwing it up, you aren't having any fun".  Well, we did both last night and the week before.

Last week, we were doing a west coast swing and I have no idea how, but when he threw me around the back, I took an elbow to the right upper breast.  Hard to tell exactly where but it literally took my breath away and I had to walk off and rest a bit.  Of course we laughed and I explained that these could actually "pop" if hit hard enough.  Last night was a different story.  I need to digress and fill in a previous event.

March 2012 - I was escorting some of my fabulous friends from the Renaissance Esmeralda Resort in La Quinta to Victory Lane at the big race on Sunday.  I had a backpack slung over my right shoulder and was speaking to them over my left.  My left foot struck a 2" cement platform that stuck out about a foot from a power box I thought I had cleared and I took the entire fall on my right eye/cheekbone.  Broke my left wrist, had numerous contusions on my right shoulder and all I could say was -"get them to Victory Lane".  I look like someone literally beat the shit out of me.  I wore sunglasses all day at work for almost 2 weeks.  Was very black and blue (our care center stitched up my right eye) and garnered horrified stares everywhere I went.  My eye was swollen shut and trust me - it was bad.  Not as bad as poor DD everytime we went out and they looked at him like he was a bad guy.  They all asked what happened and I always said - I tripped.  Sure you did looking at him like he is a total rat bastard woman beater.  I couldn't even touch it to wear concealer make-up.  Bad, very very bad.

So, last night.  DD and I are twirling around the floor in counter clockwise fashion and as I spin, I take an elbow to the right side of my nose with such force I knew immediately it was bad.  We stop on the spot and I clutch my nose and exclaim "I have to go the bathroom now!".  Yep, bloody nose.  A woman walks in asking if I'm ok.  I explain.  She says, is that your guy outside?  He has his head in his hands and looks worried.  I go out there and DD is close to distraught.  He then explains how it is ENTIRELY my fault for feeding him (I wish you could have seen me plugging his nose so he had to ingest this) Fireball Whiskey.  Uh huh.  Trust me, the guy doesn't drink - ever.  I do believe the first double shot did him in, but the next few sealed the deal.

I now have 2 black eyes and when telling Maree she offered the perfect solution for when and if anyone asks.  Since they didn't believe the previous - I tripped - I'm just going to offer. . . . "No worries, we are working thru it.  Counselling is helping".  I laughed so hard and she actually might have snorted upon offering that easy explanation. So now that we have the black eyes - I can continue with the rest of the story. . . .

Additionally last night dancing, a very nice man I always see there approached me at the bar.  He paid me several very nice compliments and then explained that he and his friends had been talking about DD and me. I knew what he was going to say before he said it so I jumped in.  Let me guess I said.  We look happy?  He says "yeah".  You two are the only ones that smile, laugh and have fun when you are dancing.  I fill DD in on this and he, in his Fireball state, informs me that they all hate him because he is with the red head, I'm beautiful, the prettiest girl in the land, fairest of them all and has declared his undying love for me.  The whole time I'm there, I've been worried about my top, are my shorts too short and do I look fat.  I need to realize I'm 55, I'm never going to look 23 again and I've got a fabulous man that sees me AS 23 and appreciates what I bring to the table.

Now for the good part of the story.  We got to our place the Brandin' Iron in San Bernaghetto early.  Had a chicken quesadilla (they really do have fantastic food) and then started dancing.  Well, DD has come to the conclusion that Carl's Jr. Turkey Burgers with Jalapenos are heaven sent.  We are post crack a lackin' my nose, he is feeling the Fireball and in a very hilarious voice I've spoken of before asks/accuses me if we are going to get a turkey burger when we leave.  It is 9:15PM, he has already declared for the 1000th time that he is a short fat fuck pig, gnawing on his own pork shoulder but of course I say - yes.

We leave and drive 15 seconds down the road, he is fumbling for $4 and we get him and only him a turkey burger with jalapenos.  He is happy declaring that although it's not the best, it is truly good.  But maybe another one would help.  I remind him that when we exit the freeway in about 10 minutes for home there will be yet ANOTHER Carl's Jr.  Yes, I drove thru again and asked for another at this time, in the voice, he informs me he doesn't have the right cash.  I tell him, really?  It's $4 - I've got it.  Well this one hits the mark. Now there is some very funny physical action in the drive thru - proclamations of my beauty and devouring the new burger in about 4 seconds.    We get home and by the time I've taken a whole 15 seconds to remove my eye make-up - he's out.

Long story to get here. . . . he has never said anything to me other than I'm perfect in every way.   I know I'm not but I tell him, I like his prescription glasses and please keep wearing them.

Women.  We are sooooo critical seeing every stooopid bump, lump and crease.  We've earned them and as long as we keep trying to keep it all in check to be healthy, I'm guessing they guys aren't going to complain too much.  Do your hair, make-up and make them number one.  Trust me - they will make you feel beautiful, appreciate you and make you number one.  Sounds old school and a bit simple/naive.  It isn't.  It's the basics of why you were first attracted to each other and how it continues to show you give a diddly squat about him first and you second.

That being said, I'm going to still lose that 8 pounds because I feel better, but I may not worry about the sit ups or crunches that go with it.  I may just accept I once again have "skinny" jeans and "regular" jeans. :-)