It’s my birthday weekend, and for once I’m feeling it. And not in a good way. I’m now officially in my mid 50s, and I do not like that place at all. On Friday night I celebrated Angel’s return from Tenerife and my last day in my early 50s with wine, and I’m regretting it now. It was only a couple of glasses too! It looks like me and teetotalism are going to be best buddies from now on. But perhaps that’s just as well.
Sometimes I feel about 100 as I look dispassionately and without recognition at the younger me in old photos. It’s not my face that’s changed, it’s what I do, what I think and how I feel. But I’m not ready to get old yet, and I think the key is in my head.
I was doing fine until I saw the chair. It looked like a dentist’s chair, except the surgeon would be operating on my eyes, instead of my teeth. This did not make me feel comfortable, in fact it made me want to run. But how could I back out now? I’d spent years thinking about laser eye surgery, and with a friend’s help, I’d finally found a surgeon I liked, who was also going to do the procedure for half the normal price..
Read more here
I was so ill that…
…Hot flashes warmed me up. And they felt good.
…I didn’t fancy chocolate.
…I couldn’t face Facebook.
It’s 3am and I listen to Smiley chatting on the baby monitor. Eventually I drag myself out of bed and go down to see if she needs something. I change her position, her nappy, offer a drink and put on some music, go back to bed. Hope she nods off.
She doesn’t, and I ask myself if I should give her something to help her sleep, because if the don’t the day will be ruined for her too.
Worry about whether Angel’s attempt to dip dye her hair at home will work. I guess I’ll know in the morning.
I tend to say I’m blind, which is obviously not true at all, and must annoy people who really are in that position. But I have been very short-sighted (-6ish) for a very long time, and now I’m getting long sighted as well. Which is kind of focusing my attention on what I can and can’t see. Sometimes I just shrug my shoulders and think of it as another side-effect of being the wrong side of 50. But I’m not dead yet, nor falling apart, so maybe I should do something about my eyes?
Read more here