Death, Mama’s Bunions and the Family 4Head

What I refuse to blog about at Mid-Life

Does anyone care about a mid-life person who blogs? Do you? Really? Anyone? Or, do young people believe folks in their forties, fifties and beyond only blog about taxes; bills and ailments? Do you think older folks blog about mortgages; high-ass rent; fallen Kegels; sagging penises; menopause; back pain; bunions; needing a nap by late afternoon and shutting down for the night by nine pm; and taking daily vitamins so your body does not congeal? Do you think we only blog about the fact that our foreheads recede an inch every hour? Do ya think we blog about those “issues,” hmm? Huh? What? Or worse, do you young people believe older people blog about death like my mother always did when she got old? Well, she didn’t blog, but she read the obituaries. Or do you even care?

Everyday mom, a native South Bronx New Yorker who moved to SF and raised my younger brother and me, read the obituaries like she was reading great fiction; mom was a voracious reader. Knowing that my mom read the obits seriously made me sick to my stomach, I hated it. Then she would yell out to me. “Oh, I didn’t know so-and-so died!” Or, Pat or Jack, or whomever died. Then she would crank her head and yell to me wherever I was in the apartment, “Did you know Jack died?” Or George, or Matilda.

“Mom, why in hell do you keep announcing when old people die? Do you even know these folks? Why read the obits, it’s only going to make you sad.”

“Well, death is a part of life, isn’t it?”

“But, we’re not dead yet!”

“Well, we will be!”

“Fine, crazy lady, but who’ll read the obits we WE die, hmm? Huh? Can you answer that?”

To which mom made an evil “stink eye” roll or she gave me a sharp punch across my arm which hurt like hell as mom was heavy-handed. If I coughed or choked on a piece of candy when I was a little girl mom slapped me so hard across my back I swear my kidneys dislodged!

I think it is safe to state that I am guilty of blogging about getting older, but I can’t help it. It is such a shock to my tiny brain that I could even be old! I don’t feel old! I don’t usually act old! But, every day of every minute of every hour my body changes and does weird things and when that happens I find myself blogging out of frustration! I got so mad about menopause that I cursed out Jesus on one of my blogs!

But, you know what I think, I think it’s time for me to stop caring about getting older. Let’s face it, a teenager doesn’t normally blog about zits and teen angst, it would be too embarrassing! Nope, I think from here on I will end my blog-rants against biology and put as much effort into blogging about topical things and about things that matter to the masses and about being creative rather than blog about being older. No one cares. And besides I don’t feel so very old, well the physiological aspect of aging is inevitable, but I feel fine, I swear! Sure, I’ve inherited the massive family forehead that recedes at least an inch every few days or so. And sure I also inherited my mother’s bunions that sometimes ache when it rains, but from now on I won’t pontificate about them. And I will no longer blog about and videotape my two cats to the point of nauseam, I’ve done that so many times that what few friends I have lower their heads in shame every time they see me. Well, from this point on I refuse to be deemed the crazy old lady who keeps blogging about her swollen cranium, aching bunions, two elderly pussies and an expired bus pass. From now on I will no longer blog about what life has done to my body, but about what life has to offer.

Speaking of my fifty pounds of top-heavy, sagging brown mid-life boobies that every time I remove my bra I fracture one of my toes, I won’t continue to blog about that anymore either! Rest assured you young readers out there, L.D. will find it in her heart, soul and mind to only blog about life and happiness and positivity and being creative and being motivational and moving forward! And that’s that! Now, if you youngsters reading this blog will excuse me, I have to stretch my legs so that my flat ass doesn’t lock up and give me a cramp. Oops! Sorry.


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