Getting Your Ducks In A Row(ish)

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Well good Internet people it’s week three of the new year, who’s still keeping their resolutions?  😉

I am, only 349 days left to meet my sober challenge (I’m a counter, what can I say!) and I’m making an effort to get my shit sorted nice and early in the year.

To this end, today I’ve booked a dentist appointment (to fill an annoying gap in my aging teeth) and to have my tax done next week. I’m also writing this at the same time as restoring my hair to its “natural” colour and removing that pesky lady mo LOL.

Ok, so none of this is very exciting, but it means I’m moving forward, something that I’ve been slow with in recent years.

So, this is me, gradually getting my ducks in a row, what are you going to do today to muster your ducks into whatever formation you’d like them to be in?

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Back Fat & Booze

One of the “joys” of getting older is watching my body change… it’s doing stuff that I’ve never had to deal with before and I’m not happy about it.  Yeah, yeah, I know, age gracefully, be thankful that I have the chance, so many don’t, etc, etc… trust me I get all that but seriously, why can’t I just stay the shape I was?

I’m pretty lucky, I’m one of these people that have until the last few years been able to eat pretty much what I want and as long as I move a bit my weight doesn’t change a lot.

However, it was brought home to me by a young bra fitter recently that there’s been a change I really don’t like.  I was feeling a bit frumpy, as you do when you reach a certain age and decided that a new bra would cheer me up (why I thought this I have no idea. LOL).   So I trotted off to brand name underwear chain to get fitted.  All the bra’s I tried on provided me with a very sexy (NOT!) and unwelcome extra roll of fat poking out from under the arms and around the back.   “These don’t fit” I confidently tell the fitting assistant “They’re too tight, look at that bulge, let’s try another size”.  She casually looks me over and says “Nope, right size, don’t worry about that, everyone has them” she says in the comforting the old lady tone that only a retail sales assistant can carry off.

My first thought was – hey, I’m not everyone young lady! followed swiftly by, when did this happen to me, I’m not an extra roll of fat kind of person??!!

But you know what, I am now.  Years of booze (and brie)  have added an unwelcome layer of padding to my body.  It’s crept up gradually and I never noticed until I wasn’t happy with what I saw.

So, my existing bra’s aren’t uncomfortable because they are old, they are uncomfortable because I’m inhaling too much sugar and sitting around feeling hungover and sorry for myself.  Right then!

You know what, I’m tired of being tired and not being the best me.  So, 2019 is the year of “YES”, yes to opportunities, yes to new experiences, yes to no booze for the year and yes to recovering me.

PS: day ten no booze and I feel great… day ten is when the happy comes back… day 15 is where I forget what it’s like to drink and crack, so I’m on my guard!  

 

What’s with all the hair?

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Has anyone else noticed the inordinate amount of time you seem to spend plucking, waxing, dyeing or bleaching various patches of hair on your body as you get older???

It can’t be just me that appears to be morphing into some hybrid, greying werewolf surely?  All of a sudden the random “hair” on my chin has become “hairs” and there is something fine and long growing out of the side of my left rib cage, I can’t see it (coz, you know, old and blind apparently!) but I know it’s there because it keeps tickling my arm when I  undress.  Very irritating on a number of levels LOL.

The full  leg laser hair removal I “invested” in a decade ago to allow me to wear dresses without advanced planning is slowly but surely being ravaged by the hormones of time.  If I look closely there are a number of longish dark hairs reappearing.  Mind you I solve this by not looking closely that often… a strategy that will only work for so long before it becomes socially unacceptable however.

I’ve also noticed that my eyebrows have taken to random growth patterns and my bottles of root touch up don’t last nearly as long as they used to.  I’m considering growing my hair long again just to keep my dye budget* in check.   Add all this to the need for constant vigilance where my lady mustache is concerned and I’m not sure I have time for a full time career any longer.

However, as I’m not yet independently wealthy enough to give up this working malarkey  (and I can assure you, I checked), I’ll just have to make sure I schedule regular maintenance time, just like I do my laptop backups!

 

*The money I’m saving on booze is going on hair dye… ok that maybe a slight exaggeration, I drank A LOT, but still, you get my point. 😉

How did I get F%^&*ing old?

Ok, its’ been a weird week good internet peeps.  I should have been launching a couple of promotions, putting the finishing touches on my next quarter campaign and looking the very picture of health as I get ready for my first 100 days booze free to end.  But am I? Nope, I’m writing this from bed, my bed, which is a nice change as last week a Cold, that’s right, a Cold put me in hospital!

What The Actual Fuck?!

I thought I was at least experiencing something sexy and serious like stroke, but no, simply the mundane. I couldn’t see properly, which turns out is an issue as you cruise down the freeway at 100 km and then try and negotiate city traffic on a week day.  To say I made a strategic error going to work on Thursday is an understatement.

The lovely emergency department Dr (who was quite cute and well dressed for a 12 year old…. god he looked  young!) ran through all the tests, CT, MRI, bloods, you name it, they did them all (they came back negative for anything serious) and then announced that they were keeping me in for observation overnight. The head Neuro guy came in with his prep class (more well dressed 12 year old’s who’s name tags all inexplicably read “Dr”) the next day… I’d started to make very strong “my preference would be” type statements about them letting me go home, so I think they decided to call in the big guns to exert some authority over me.  LOL.  He proclaimed that I was free to go home and that as we age our eyes tend to turn and this coupled with my “compromised immune system”, eg, case of the sniffles (FFS!), can manifest in blurred vision and it should sort itself out.

So that’s my life now is it? A couple of sneezes and I become some sort of house bound invalid?  Bloody hell, this is a bit shit right?  I’m supposed to be celebrating 100 days booze free tomorrow and instead I’ll be trying to muster up the energy to shower!

Got to tell you, I didn’t see this coming.  I’m grateful that I live in a country where I could pull up at the hospital emergency department and within a few hours find myself having undergone a battery of expensive tests and tucked up in bed for the night and it won’t cost me a thing*.  We are very lucky here in Australia to have such a fabulous system of public healthcare.

 

*It does cost via tax, but I’m ok with that, I think we should have a system where we can offer the very best healthcare to all, especially people who can’t afford it.  Not that I’ve used our public medical system like this before, I’ve never been admitted as a public patient. In fact the last time I was in hospital I was 22 and having wisdom teeth out.  I must point out that I’m kidding around, the 12 year old Drs, while looking like mini hipsters, knew their stuff and were very thorough and professional.

 

Apparently I’m Irrelevant…

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I was informed very politely and diplomatically, but apparently at the ripe old age of 47 with close to 20 years’ experience in my field I’ve become irrelevant.  Nice hey?

All because I don’t have one skill set – data analysis… I don’t have it because my organisation doesn’t do it, pure and simple.

So, who told me this?  A recruitment consultant.  Yep, I finally got off my arse and did something about the fact that I’m becoming unhappy to go along with my increasing frustration at work.

Apparently, I don’t fit in a box, something that I’m kind of proud of truth be told.  10 years ago you had to be a marketing generalist here in Australia but over the last 5 years that has shifted and specialisation, especially in the data and analytics field has become the norm.  Apparently I’d be the “outsider” if they put me in a room with other candidates.

This is one guys opinion, I hold another entirely.  Opportunity abounds in my city, hell, the world should be my oyster.  Now I need to implement some different strategies to land myself that new job…

  • Demonstrate my understanding of data driven ROI’s
  • Undertake training
  • Learn the actual skill set in my existing role, hard to do but achievable
  • Find an agency that doesn’t want to put me in a box

I knew moving on after 10 years wouldn’t be easy and my age could possibly be against me as well.  In fact the words “decade” and “ten” were used extensively in my meeting with this guy, and not by me.

Hell, I’ll tell you how age paranoid I was shall I?  I decided that I needed to hide my old, white, veiny legs, so in the lead up to the face to face meeting I began putting that gradual build up leg tan on.  It smells horrible and here’s the kicker where you learn from my experience, still won’t cover those blue veins ladies and gentlemen!  LOL

I also had the worst haircut of my life the day before to seem “on trend”, not to mention the new clothes.

I’ll keep you updated on how a washed up middle aged crazy cat lady goes in her search to write a new chapter!

Where Will Your Road Lead?

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I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about where my road is leading me and I’ve decided that I won’t get old without a fight.  I won’t let my road lead to nowhere.

I’m watching people that were passionate and impulsive and full of energy let their lives slip away and I don’t want to go that way.

Please understand I’m not talking about aging, that happens and quite frankly I’m debating the whole botox issue* with myself at the moment. Crazy Cat Boy has taken to calling me “Angry Bird” and having just seen myself on screen, I’m inclined to agree with him.  It’s that gradual loss of a sense that anything is possible and doing interesting things with life that scares me.

So even though I’m in the second half of my life I’ve decided that I wont get old without a fight, I won’t give up on seeking out new opportunities and I sure as hell won’t allow taking a different way home from the shops to become an exciting thing in my world.  I’ve been as guilty of this as the next person, life gets busy and somehow we forget to live it along the way as the days and then months slip by.

I want to have an answer that is more than “oh, you know, just busy” when someone asks me what I’ve been doing.

I wont be scared, I refuse!  I’m issuing the challenge to anyone who wants to play along – What will you be able to say when someone asks “What have you been up to?”?

Where will your road lead you?


*There is a post coming on this.

These Slippers are Toast!

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Seriously what’s the deal?  I’m not a 90 year old woman and I’d prefer not to advertise the fact that I’ve got a touch of bogan in me* to the world. So how is it that I can’t find a tasteful, stylish, hell, I’d settle for bland and boring at this point, pair of slippers to save myself?

The market seems to consist of either “fun”, read I’ve got the taste and intellect of a 12 year old and want a pair of shoes with ears or a face on them or “fugly”  ugg boots or old lady shoes.  There is simply nothing in between.  All I want is a pair of plain black slippers that don’t draw attention to themselves, I’m not asking for much am I?

For the last six years since moving to wine country I’ve been on the hunt – it gets cold out here and now I have a yard that I venture into some mornings (only to scare the birds away so the cats don’t eat them you understand, I don’t stroll around surveying my domain, well not that I’m letting on about anyway!) so socks or bare feet won’t cut it anymore.

Besides, I’ve invested a lot in nice sleepwear and being a long term fan of the correct accessories I’d rather freeze than ruin my “look” with the wrong shoe.

An extensive internet search the world over led me to Macy’s who had dull but tasteful ballet slippers that met my two major style criteria;

  1. No “old lady” bow
  2. Not made of velour

I joyfully ordered said slippers, and, while I was at it a new cocktail dress, to justify the postage you understand – No, I didn’t fool me with that logic either, but I ordered the dress anyway.  Two weeks later the dress showed up but no shoes, apparently there had been a run on the only acceptable footwear  I’d found (probably by frustrated, well dressed middle aged women, but I digress) and they had sold out, not to be restocked.

Frustrated I began my search again, convinced that somewhere in the world there would be an acceptable pair of black stylish slippers.  And you know what I was right, for the asking price of a mere $600 I could have a pair that almost looked the part.  Even though I was desperate by this stage my inner tight arse suggested that $600 was a touch extreme even for me when I’m annoyed  – I can be impulsive, mostly it’s charming, sometimes irrationally expensive!

So I took myself off to the nearest shopping centre and slouched my way through the various stores muttering** to myself that none of it was good enough and finally I bought the marginally acceptable “items” that you see above.

I took them home and optimistically teamed them with my lovely robe and night gown and you know what, they look dreadful!    So, these slippers are toast and my hunt goes on!

*it’s an Australian thing, we all do, we can’t help it.

**It wasn’t all doom and gloom however to cheer myself up I bought two new shirts from Cue that I’m loving.

PS: As you can tell I have so much distain for the slippers I didn’t even wipe the toaster down before taking the shot LOL.  Also, I was going to use winky faces in this post but have just discovered that giving your face a “nose” is now old fashioned, when did that happen?   I must be old  😉  … a face needs a “nose” right?

This not drinking thing…

 

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For anyone wondering what a short period of not drinking is like here’s my short story…

Waking up not hungover for a second Saturday in a row has its merits. We are on day 14* of 2017 and we’ve only drunk once, on the 4th.  I’d like to say that we had a civilised glass over dinner and that was it, but of course we drank two bottles and were cranky the next day.

So what does ten days sober look like for this Crazy Cat Lady? Glad you asked…

  • I feel better, both physically and mentally
  • My skin looks clearer, less red.  I have Rosacea and not drinking is absolutely helping
  • I’ve lost some weight. I’ve been exercising more, but not drinking 3 or 4 bottles a week has to help.
  • I’m calmer
  • I kind of feel like I used to before I drank a lot – it’s a weird hopefulness or happiness that I can’t explain I like myself better
  • At the risk of sharing TMI, I feel sexier
  • I’ve got a stack of time on my hands – we painted the house over the break in the time we would have spent drinking
  • My hair has stopped falling out (OMG, what the hell is booze doing to me exactly??)

I’ve not had any withdrawal issues that I’ve noticed. I deliberately reduced the amount I drank over Christmas and new year. It helped me deal with the stress of dealing with family and all the attendant fun stuff that comes with the holiday season (Christmas day is a post on its own!), so perhaps that helped.

I’ve read a lot about people replacing wine with deserts etc when first giving up but I’ve not experienced that. It could be (Crazy Cat Boy has been mainlining sweet stuff like there is no tomorrow, so perhaps he is) that I’m not really a sweet tooth, I’m more a salt and fats kind of girl.

I even went to bed sober NYE and it’s been years since I’ve done that.  It used to be in my party days I didn’t drink NYE as I thought waking up hungover to start a new year was a bad idea. What changed is still an unanswered question that I’ll have to look at later on.

So, where to from here? CCB wants a new TV ( we don’t need one, he just “wants” one- boys and gadgets, sigh), so I’ve struck a deal whereby we don’t buy wine for four months so the money saved can go to pay for it.

This means for the next four months at least I’ll not be drinking.  I’ve got some usually heavy drinking work events in February  however a change in management is also changing our culture in that area so I’ll have an “out” so to speak.

My thoughts so far on not drinking are give it a whirl, what’s the worst that happens?  You might feel better and save some cash.  That sounds like a win to me.

 

*In case you think I can’t count, I wrote this Saturday but was too lazy to fire up the PC and post it. Somethings not drinking hasn’t changed!  LOL

Wardrobe Crisis!

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What happened to generate this eye catching, dramatic headline you ask?  It started innocently enough; I was invited to the Australian Open with friends who are also business associates.  The problem is this meant “casual”.

“Casual” has always escaped me; I’m not good with casual.  Formal I nail, my work look is money no matter where you put me, but casual???

Hmmm…the tennis, right, fine: cargos, wedges, cute top, done.  But then lunch was mentioned and that threw me, lunch where? Were my cargos going to cut it? The top I was going to wear certainly wasn’t.  What now?

In my twenties this was never a problem. Lunch with the Queen, that ultra-cute white Cue outfit with the floaty skirt and short sleeved double breasted jacket would be perfect. Impromptu ski trip, no dramas; Day at the beach, sorted; Drinks with the PM, let me change my shoes and we are good to go.  I was never short of an appropriate outfit.  Now a simple trip to a slightly swankier shopping centre can throw me.

When did I go from finger on the pulse of fashion and always feeling put together to this slightly uncomfortable feeling that my shoes aren’t quite right?  Sigh.

Well, must fly, someone mentioned afternoon drinks at their place in February and I’ve got some serous planning to do!

PS: in case you are wondering I went with a good top, skinny jeans, the wedges and was boiling hot all day. My hosts showed up in shorts and thongs!  I can’t win. LOL

Help, My Thighs Have “Hail Damage”!

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I stand before you (well, sit on my tubby arse before you) a 60 odd kg, cellulite sprinkled, pasty white, spotty armed Crazy Cat Lady who feels let down by her mirror.  How did this happen and how can I reverse it in three weeks?

Here is my day of woe began…

I’m working out of a client’s office today so this morning instead of just brushing my hair and pulling on jeans and a tee, I slapped on some makeup and slipped on a new dress, well, that was the plan.

The dress, purchased only 12 months ago does not fit properly.  Not only did it not “slip” as advertised, it actually “dragged” over the hip area and a very visible panty and waist line appeared where it shouldn’t have!

How did this happen (the can of Coke on my desk as I type might be a small give away)?  I thought I was still pretty fit: so I consulted the friendly mirror, the one in the ensuite, not the harsh reality mirror that lives in the main bathroom.

Gulp! The mirror has had a personality change and is throwing up some unwelcome sights under the glare of the double heat lamp.

Not only do my eyebrows need a decent pluck, but there are vast expanses of very white, very “hail damaged” thighs and buttocks that are a lot more wobbly than I’d like to admit.   Not only that, but my arms are spotty and have weird multiple tan lines from different length sleaves and bingo wings!  Bloody Nora!

However that’s not the biggest problem. In three weeks I’m catching up with friends that I haven’t seen since high school  (navigating the whole Facebook friend gauntlet reconnecting with them is a whole other post)and I want to look hot damn it!

So, I’m assessing my options:

  1. Take legal action against the designer of said “slip dress” for wrongful advertising
  2. Surgery – excessive?  Probably, but let’s not rule anything out
  3. Expensive “smoothing” creams and gels – see how desperate I’m becoming, I’m starting to want to believe the hype!
  4. Convert to any religion that needs me to cover head to toe loose clothes – extreme, maybe, but as a short term solution option, I’m game
  5. Spanks – ‘nuff said!
  6. More green stuff, less coke – probably a solid option for my overall health, but I loves me my coke 😉
  7. Less wine – see “more green” above!  LOL
  8. More moving – again see boring health stuff above
  9. Find the Kettle bell – by hook or by crook I’ll deflab these arms.

I know what you are thinking, I really only have one solid option, fake my own death, but I’d really like to catch up with them all so perhaps I’ll try the “health” option…. stay tuned dear reader, I’ll post updates on my painful progress!