The Begining

Fifty years old!!!!! I have to admit it; I was really excited about approaching the half century mark. The idea of being a mature woman with her shit finally together was very enticing. I had somehow managed to convince myself that all my fears, faults and phobias would vanish once I turned that magical number.

I had made so many bad decisions and wrong choices that this particular birthday was, in my mind, going to be my shining glory, the light at the end of my long, dysfunctional tunnel. While so many people approach their fiftieth with fear and dread, I embraced it with gusto.

Knowing that just around the corner I would find the salvation of maturity was all I needed to be ready to celebrate what so many had tried to avoid.

As my big day approached, I was struck with a myriad of feelings so diverse that it caused me to pause; then reflect on my life. Who the hell was this woman that I looked at in the mirror every day and where did she come from? Could I actually be to blame for who I was, or did some strange twist of events over my past turn me into the caricature of what I was today?

When my birthday finally arrived, I was ready - it would precede like this.

THE FANTASY

I had planned out the day so many times in my dreams the preceding year that I knew how the entire day would unfold. I would rise with the sun, my husband anticipating my stirring body. We would proceed to make passionate love, music playing in the background, and bouquets of multicolored roses strewn all around us.

I would then rise, hoping to gaze upon my reflection in the mirror and behold the beautiful, mature woman who had reached this milestone with poise and elegance.

THE REALITY

I woke up this morning to the reality of my life. I am utterly amazed that I made it to this age as sane as I am. I knew it was coming, and I thought I was prepared for it. Wrong. No one is prepared for hitting the half century mark. I thought I was, I had even wished for it. Unfortunately, the stark reality of life made me cringe and want to crawl into a hole and not come out for a very long time.

What I had dreamed of and had so hoped for was not to be found.

I got up, looked in the mirror and was horrified. I don't wear make up very often, but I needed it today. The bags under my eyes must have packed for the celebration, they were huge.

The body can be a cruel thing. I seemed to develop overnight, a curved and hunched back when I walked. I looked like Quasimodo; all I needed was a bell tower and I'd be right at home.

Now, I am a full figured woman, so I am used to sagging body parts. But what I saw this morning in my reflection was beyond anything I had seen before. My breasts were rebelling. Not that I ever had perky breasts, perky was not a word in my vocabulary, but today they were down right horrible. I almost caught them in my shoe laces as I was putting on my sneakers. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was nothing less than a full-body mutiny.

So, there you have it; I am now not only in the top 1/3 on the death meter, had my hopes and dreams dashed with regard to the fiery passion that I had so anticipated AND, the silver haired vixen I had so hoped I would have transformed into over night was still the fat, frizzy-haired woman who had gone to bed the night before with an excitement usually reserved for children on Christmas Eve awaiting the arrival of Santa. Devastated does not describe to you my feelings.

I felt like the caterpillar who dreamed of turning into the beautiful butterfly....Alas, I was just a moth...Remember Mothra? The ya have it!!!!

It was right then and there that I decided to delve into that void I like to call my brain and take that journey into the unknown abyss of self-evaluation. It can be a very scary place to go when you're used to looking at life through a veil of fantasy. Reality can be harsh and cruel and I don't do well dwelling there; I never did.

What's quirky about my personality and why do I need to examine my existence? Hmmmmm, well, I'm afraid of pedicures and zombies, just to name a few. Where these came from, who the hell knows, but I am hoping to find out.

So, where to start? I knew my childhood didn't hold any unspoken horrors that could account for my slightly altered way of looking at life, or my lack of self confidence. I wasn't abused, molested, starved or hurt in any way as a child. To the contrary; I was loved and cared for.

We spent autumn days walking the beach or climbing on the rocks at the jetty, football games and home-made donuts. Summertime was filled with bike rides, sleepovers and swimming. In the winter, we played in the snow, sat in front of the fireplace and just enjoyed. Home-cooked meals, Sunday breakfasts together and Ed Sullivan was the norm.

My sisters and I never wanted or lacked any of life's necessities. If we were poor, we didn't know it. We were happy, healthy and content.

Shit, my lack of any sort of self-confidence or knowledge of my own worth certainly didn't come from my upbringing. This was going to take a lot longer than I had hoped.

So, the search continues............. See you next Sunday