On Becoming a Man

There has been a lot of coverage lately of Chastity Bono's (daughter of Sonny & Cher) recent testosterone therapy and surgery to become Chas Bono, a man. A lot of money could have been saved had he just waited for menopause.

As I sit here, preparing for yet another birthday, I am considering the many things about my aging self that I, frankly, did not sign on for. With diminished levels of estrogen flowing through my body I have noted some unwelcome intrusions to my being that have just planted themselves and taken root like invasive ivy.

1. Tough, dry hands. Like men's hands since they rarely lotion. And like, overnight.

2. Thinning hair. I have always had a lot of hair - very thick. In fact, I still do. But I have noticed a small, little spot at the very crown of my head that requires a little more attention - teasing, product, and fussing with - to cover. And I am not amused.

3. Beer belly. Without the beer. I carry around a lot of extra weight but my waist has always been well defined. Except I am noticing the encroachment of what we women have always kindly referred to on our husbands as "love handles" - and this is very distressing. Because in truth men, there is no love for them.

4. Whiskers. Yes, I said it. You will not find many of us willing to admit it (because the thought of it brings on chest pains) but MOST women, after menopause, have this offensive thing happen to them. The soft unnoticeable peach fuzz on our chins can "switch sides" and randomly become coarse and dark, long - and sinister. And I have to learn to look for it daily. And I carry a tweezer in my purse now because the bathroom light is not reliable.

5. Sensitivity. Okay - this is not typically a masculine thing. I bring this up because it is the single feminine thing that most of us would gladly be rid of. But it has taken over my psyche like crabgrass and I cry over everything. And I mean everything. Like commercials that have pretty music. Or tough, dry hands. Or thinning hair. Or "love handles". Or whiskers.

Yes especially whiskers.

I'm Out of Elementary School

My youngest graduated from the 6th grade last week. At her little school, elementary school goes through 6th grade, as it did when I was growing up.

Her school always puts on a wonderful ceremony for the graduating class, which is never more than 25, in this case there were only 16. All 16 were dressed up and fidgety. It is a big deal.

My older three girls graduated from this school as well and each ceremony was truly memorable. I was proud of each of my three older daughters as they stood and gave a 3 minute speech they wrote and memorized, walked forward to receive a diploma - and I was equally proud of Grace as she did the same. But there was something different in this one. This was my last. My baby, wearing a new dress that didn't have a hint of "little girl" in its design, high heeled shoes and shaved legs, french tip manicure, dangling earrings in her newly pierced ears, a hair style for older girls, and her first make-up in public, walked up to the podium and out of grammar school and after nearly 20 straight years of having a child in elementary school, I walk out with her. So while this day was all about her, it was a marker for me as well.

Grace is particularly emotional. She cries on the last day of school every year (including preschool!) weeping at the passing of age so I knew she would be a mess this go around. I carefully instructed her on the way to dab dripping eyes that are made up with mascara (under the lashes to absorb moisture and not smear black under the eyes - lest we look like Bette Davis in "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane"...) and watched as she sat on the stage with her classmates becoming an expert on tear catching.

After all the graduates had made their speeches and received their diplomas we moved to the reception room where we all witnessed all seven girls in the class sporting red, swollen eyes as they hugged and gathered and sobbed and let me tell you, the moms were right behind them. My throat was tight and and my nostrils flared as I tried to squelch what could have become big gobby sobs had I not been well versed in stifling such things. I was proud of my daughter. She looked beautiful. It was a big day for her. But it was a big day for me too. Both Amanda and Jennifer were in attendance and when Amanda reminded me that she had graduated from this school 10 years ago, I was instantly in that day, remembering what she wore, how she stood with her friends and received an award. The following year, both Christine and Jennifer did the same - with their hair piled high on their heads - all grown up and by this time, Grace had started preschool there. And while I was equally proud of all of them, in the back of my mind was that I had another 8 years at this school and I felt I would never be done.

But this day, I looked around the walls, looked at the staff, the building in the same way Amanda, Christine and Jennifer did years ago. The way Grace was looking at it now. There is sadness in the joy. My youngest is leaving that environment but so am I. And we shall never pass this way again.

So I am catching tears with kleenex carefully placed under the lashes.

American Tragedy - Part II

In the interest of bipartisan balance, after criticizing Sarah Palin in my last post, Senators Anthony Weiner and John Edwards (a man I once supported!) are equally deserving of distain for being liars and idiots. With Edwards' recent indictment for a scandal that seems to have no end and Weiner's embarrassing tweet escapades, one can only shake their head and wonder how two such seemingly intelligent and respectable individuals could possibly think they could get away with such disgraceful and immoral behavior. Yes, they are only human but isn't that the point? Humans are not supposed to behave like pigs.

American Tragedy

With all due respect to my friends who think otherwise, after yet another embarrassing "gotcha question" thrown at her "randomly" by the news media (specifically, "What has most impressed you on your tour and what are you going to take away with you?"), I must go on record to say that Sarah Palin is an complete imbecile. I am utterly embarrassed by her. But possibly more horrifying is the fact that Wikipedia (unfortunate research source for school-aged kids) has been updated to reflect some of Ms. Palin's ridiculous rendering of Paul Revere's ride (although likely as a joke). Further, she insists she knew what she was talking about and went on to say that Paul Revere was also "ringing his bells" through the streets so that the "British could hear the warning that we were not going to tolerate them taking away our arms".

Frankly, she terrifies me.