Beulah, Peel Me a Grape

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Hello, Gorgeous!

Yes, I'm talking to you!

Some things happened over the past week, interesting things. Subtle shifts in attitude and perception. Internal shifts in perspective. A little moving and shaking, if you will. Nothing tectonic, but a blip on the Richter scale. The plates are most definitely adjusting.

It started with a realization that my upper arms, though saggy and lumpy and quite frankly lacking in appeal, can no longer live under oppressive sleeves when it's over 90 degrees outside. That's right folks, I'm letting my flappy arms flap freely. Flap it, who flapping cares? I mean, at least I have arms and they work! How flapping cool is that?

Waves her arms in the air, waves 'em like she just doesn't care. 

Because she doesn't.

Maybe if I dream big enough and flap vociferously enough I can achieve lift off! You never know until you try.

Speaking of flappy, or flabby, or saggy, or what have you, I have also decided that I'm accepting my new body as it is. It is not the original model, and I've not been a fan of the alterations made over the past 7 years by menopause and medicines and my inability to breathe. (Okay and yes, perhaps some culinary predilections and questionable beverage choices.) Still, it is the body I currently inhabit and as such, I can no longer pretend it is a temporary situation. 

I've got a big butt and I cannot lie!

With this new level of acceptance, weirdly enough, I'm newly motivated to change my eating and moving habits. I am not holding my breath, because I can't breathe that well. I am releasing the hold that caffeine has on me by giving up coffee, a drink I cannot consume without half and half and a lump or two of sugar. 

Bye, coffee!

I'm also putting desserts, bread, and other such carbohydrate and sugar rich things on notice. Not to say I will never entertain them again, I'm just taking them off of my regular rotation. So, that's happening, and if I should lose a little flappy flab, that would be delicious. If I don't, that's okay too. I like me, big me, little me, flappy me, mid-range me...whatever me I am at any given moment. 

In other news, we're walking in the mornings! I hit 10,000 steps yesterday! This is new and exciting! Since I sit on my big butt and type most days, this is a big deal! I make no promises, but hopefully I can maintain forward momentum.

In other, other news, I had a pre-cancerous thingy (acnitic keratosis) freezer ray blasted off of my face today. So, that was fun. Okay, not really. It hurt. It still hurts. I'm just glad it wasn't skin cancer. Once it flakes off or saunters away or hits the road with a tiny knapsack on its back, it's one less thing about which I have to worry. To be honest, I've been worried about a few skin thingies for a while now, and I'm glad to find out that all is well in Skin Town. Phew! Sunscreen, cover ups, and big hats are your friends, folks. Trust me. 

In other, other, other news, I was rejected by a big retailer who I was hoping would carry my book yesterday. It hit me a little hard, and I cried and felt sad for myself. Then I got the hell over it because it's their loss. In spite of their suggestion that it was not 'worthwhile', this book is fabulous and so am I! So there.

Every day around 4pm I hit a wall and feel completely defeated and deflated and dejected. I get up early every day filled with enthusiasm and give it 100% until I can't give it any more. Then I unwind and let go of the things I cannot control. This is a shift, because I am a control freak. I want the world to find Fifty and Other F-Words, so much so that I'm trying everything in my power to amplify the message. It's frustrating not getting as much traction as I'd like and yet, it's kind of ironic. The gatekeepers in general are disinterested in women over 50, and that's the challenge, that's a major point in the book. So...how do I get around the gatekeepers?

I don't know, but it's almost 4 and I'm on day two without coffee and my face thingy is hurting, so I'm going to sashay my big sassy ass upstairs and unwind...which may or may not include unwine-ding. Just because I'm changing my diet does not mean I'm giving up wine, folks. 

Oh. Hell. No.

Not until the Orange Menace has left the building, and by Orange Menace I mean POTUS and by the building I mean the White House. In case there was any confusion.

Oh Beulah, peel me a grape!

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