I love to speed. Driving on the interstates at less than 80 causes time stopping sensation in me wee brain! Zoom, zoom, zoom! It’s exhilarating! Driving the four lanes around town at less than 50 is the same. Of course less than 50 on the side roads is for old people.
One year, 3 weeks, and 6 days until my 60th birthday. I’m marking the days. I suppose at that point I will officially become a mass of screaming, bubbling, overwhelming, mind-boggling hysteria. The kids will have to call for a strait-jacket and loads of drugs.
Well…that doesn’t sound so bad.
Who am I kidding? I’m bordering on hysteria already. And who knows if I’ll even make it that far. I mean, shit happens, right? Not expecting to meet my demise anytime soon, but we never know.
But 60? I’m terrified.
Will I suddenly begin wearing orthopedic shoes and those funky white stockings? Are twin sets in my future? Will I have my tatt removed? Never get another one?
I told Falon I was gonna celebrate 60 with another tattoo. I’ve even decided what I want; a Celtic knot with a peony, a viola, and a ladybug. The knot is for my Canadian-Scottish husband, the peony for Daddy, the viola (the flower) for son Zach who played viola ( the stringed instrument) from 5th grade all the way through high school, and the ladybug for daughter Falon. I want all of it together in one design. I will live for the day….live for the pain…okay it’s not really that painful…I will live, live, live to see what the next 60 years bring!
This time I will get the tatt somewhere less noticeable than my arm. I wanted to see the first one. At least I can cover it with long sleeves if necessary. I don’t find it necessary.
I read something about things older women should avoid…like tattoos, dark eyeliner, and certain hairstyles. I figure at this point I’m old enough to wear or do anything I want.
Take dark eyeliner. I wear a dark aubergine . I like it. It doesn’t highlight the tiny lines. Now if I try to wear a light, highlighting shadow, my eyelids look like a roadmap for Tinkerbell…tiny little lines light up and crisscross and jump out and yell ‘boo’ at anyone standing near.
Hair. I like it messy. Usually I do a minimum ‘fix’ with enough product to keep it fluffy. Yesterday I ran my hands through my undone hair while at the Panera drive-thru and it stood up and sang an Ave´. ‘Look at this,’ I said to the cute little girl taking my money. I laughed maniacally, took my muffins, and peeled out leaving rubber on the asphalt.
It’s good to be so mature.