My Fabulous Fifties

Full disclosure: I am 56. 

My dress size has increased from a size 8 to a 12 but I can still find wonderfully fashionable clothes- they just cost more. Thank God I’m rich.

I have white hair growing at my temples which you will never see, because your name isn’t David and you don’t charge $90 for a laugh-riot of a conversation full up with gossip. 

I can no longer do high-impact exercise, as my right knee is wonky from decades of high-impact exercises, so, All Hail Joseph Pilates. And Joey, who pushes me to the core (see what I did there?).

My hair, which has always been unremarkable, I now consider amazing because it is still the exact same in texture and density and shininess as it was when I was 13. Some times you just have to wait.
(However my eyebrows seem to be disappearing altogether- so there’s that).

My natural lip color is fading which is why I’ve had them ‘plumped’ and lipstick is my new best friend. My other new best friend won’t pick up a lunch check and wears frosted Pink Passion, so the jury is still out on this one. She also wears blue frosted eye shadow. Whatdaya want from me?

The tips of my teeth are becoming transparent and I keep my dentist in business with that bondo crap they can wrap them in.  

My voice is deepening. My singing voice is shot. But neither discourages me from performing along with Barbara on a daily basis. The cats love it. That’s why they meow, right?

My neck and shoulders are tight but still…tight.

I see cross-hatching on my cheeks and in politics.

My children no longer need me in the same way, but my husband needs me more. 

I forgive more easily, but have less patience for fools. 

I do not use the word ‘Love’, as I once did, but my capacity for deep love is resolute. 

My eyes can not see anything close-up, but are more blue. 

My mind is no longer in a menopausal blur, and has become as sharp-as-a-tack. Like that ever left me…

I have amazing dreams. I am usually opening a can of whoop-ass on a monster. Some of them I know. 

I can smell a con a mile away.

I can still smell.

Ben and I communicate in code, which shortens the time it takes to get-to-the-damn-point.

Which is…

I am strong. I am fabulous. 
I am MidLife!

  • Anonymous - My eyebrows are nearly gone, too! Who knew?
    Oh, I just love aging!

    • A Pleasant House - Thank God for this new stuff named (wait let me go get it….I’m back) gimmeBROW by benefit. It’s a brow mascara of sorts. Waterproof, not too heavy (you can build up thickness) and in a few colors. Until I started brushing it across my brows a few months ago I didn’t realize how dull my brows were. I got it at Sephora.ReplyCancel

  • - But you are beautiful on the inside, and that’s what counts, right? NOT. I do the bonding, the botox, oh yes I do, and don’t get me started on droopy skin and those deflated balloons that used to be all perky…on my way to bootcamp so I don’t atrophy here on the sofa. xoxox to you!ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - I am beautiful on the inside but seriously, who wants to look like their grandmother? I’m especially grooving on the droopy skin under my chin. So attractive! Bootcamp. Just the word makes me cringe. Off I go….ReplyCancel

  • Tina - I can agree with some of these, and some simply haven’t happened yet (but I’m sure they will). Fortunately I can still sing, and my hair is still amazing, although gray. I think these are normal facts of life. I’m happy in my middle age (heck, I’ll be 59 in a few days!). Better than the alternative, I always say!!ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - Yes, all normal. The key fro me is the attitude. It keeps you feeling good. Thanks for stopping by Tina! Impressed that you still have your singing voice- mine- kaput!ReplyCancel

  • Mari Collier - At fifty I could still run in high heels, work ten hours, commute two hours, and work more hours at home. It wasn’t until I hit 60 that everything went south. Oh well, that too was long ago. At least my hair is finely turning grey. I’ve waited for years as I wore a grey wig for a play when I was 16 and looked fabulous. Now, I don’t have the complexion of a sixteen-year-old, but I still would like to have silver hair, just not enough to pay for it.ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - You know what Marie- that’s an interesting conversation- what color hair is grey? I prefer silver to white on women. I saw a woman with a gorgeous dark grey (not a bit brown) once. It was so shiney and beautiful. I’ve seen your picture and you look beautiful!!!ReplyCancel

  • Cary - As I grow older, I find that hair sprouts up in once barren plains (or crevices). I’m considering electrolysis. No telling what will sprout on me at 50.ReplyCancel

  • Walker Thornton - A fun read. I’m taking the opposite approach and just letting it all happen…at least for now.ReplyCancel

  • William Kendall - Good post… but frosted pink passion is an actual lipstick name?ReplyCancel

  • Bryan Jones - Good on you girl! As a male at 55, I can identify with how some things gets better with age (in my case the propensity to laugh at myself, more tolerance of others, and sex) while other aspects of ageing cause me great angst (grey hair, bristles in my ears and a saggy arse).

    I enjoy your posts – your wrting has a distinctive, whimsical style. I’ve become your latest follower.ReplyCancel

  • ARod Rodriguez - great post way to embrace life love itReplyCancel

  • Carol Graham - I relate with all of you in different ways but….I am 65 and still don’t have a single grey hair. As a health coach for many decades, I took the precautions I tell my younger clients. Taking lecithin (the right kind) all these years means no droppy upper arms or other body parts. Hair is thicker than ever and energy level is high. Work harder now than I ever did in my 50’s. Loving it.ReplyCancel

  • bookworm - I look like a turkey at almost 61. A grey feathered turkey, with wings, and wrinkly neck to match.ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - LOL! I don’t mind ACTING like a turkey, but don’t want to look like one quite yet, though you do sound delicious!ReplyCancel

  • Art and Sand - Loved reading this post.

    I am your age transposed. My hair is finally okay, but I have no idea what color my hair is because Pam does a great color job. I am still a size 8, but won’t be if I keep eating Christmas treats, I am finding that swimming is the best exercise because it has less impact on my old joints. Despite all the downsides of aging – Life Is Good.ReplyCancel

  • Daven - It tells a story painted but true of everything we had, now renewed… but perhaps that point is not fabrication, but the sincerity of a smile that dances lazily across your eyes…..ReplyCancel

  • Kristi Campbell - I so relate to this! I’m 45, and just recently paid $3300 for my teeth to be capped. I’m allergic to Botox but less so to my husband, who is 5 years older than I am. We roar!!! And are awesome right here and right now.ReplyCancel

  • Tana Bevan - A wonderful ode to where you are now, while casting a lighthearted look at where you’ve been. Touche’. Delightful read. Thank you!ReplyCancel

  • Lois Alter Mark - Love it, and, yes, you are fabulous!ReplyCancel

  • Carollynn @ - The monthly tithing to the beauty gods just keeps going up and up – first it was just haircuts and color, then Monthly facials, dermabrasion, injectables, and brazillian blowouts. Now I seem to work just to pay for those treatments.ReplyCancel

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