![]() I was in a waiting room, waiting, when I picked up a copy of Vogue magazine to peruse. I have not looked at Vogue in decades but I thought with my renewed interest in fashion it might give me a new perspective. I discovered that I am not a fan of high fashion. I know fashion models are not intended to look like normal people. I was a teenager in the age of Twiggy, whose boyish body and spiky eyelashes did not belong to your everyday average woman. However, the models in this magazine looked like they were from some other planet. They were so obviously unhappy. I thought that fashion was supposed to make you happy. Instead I found page after page of sad, angry, depressed looking people. These people have a lot going for them. They are extremely attractive. Many of them are famous and they all have money to burn. They have absolutely no reason to look this miserable. There was a photo of one of the famous reality star sisters with her husband and baby posing inside of an airplane in formal dress, as if they were headed for a fabulous party in some far off land. Instead of looking excited, they looked very angry. Even the baby had a confused expression. Where was the happy family ready for a fun and exciting adventure that most of us would die to experience? A famous musician, along with his wife and young son, looked incredible in elaborately designed haut couture, but were unable to crack a simple smile. The kid looked like he was about to burst into tears and/or die from boredom. I know that expression. I saw it on the students in my classroom when I was teaching. It wasn't always easy to change that mood in my students but with a lot of effort I managed to eek out a few smiles. I would not have wanted to try to do that with these folks if they had been my students. Page after page of images of miserable people stared out at me from the magazine, including an actress with the makeup and coloring of a corpse, but with a less peaceful expression. Then finally I saw a slight smile on a closeup of Madonna, the woman who made "Voguing" popular. A few pages later several women, captured modeling on the red carpet, were actually bursting with happiness, or at least feigned happiness. I smile began to cross my face. I started to find humor in the photos. I loved the high fashion street urchin in a black dress that looked like the house dresses my Mom used to wear. Her accessories included army style ankle boots and a classy leather bag. Except for the bag, she had the look of one of the young homeless people I see around town begging for money. The unkempt hair and hungry eyes probably would be great for persuading someone to slip her some change. There was a hilarious "camping" spread where a young couple cavorted in nature. They appeared to have stuffed an enormous number of outfits into their small backpacks. They probably had no space left for food. The young man, nattily attired in leather, tended an old coffee pot dangling over a very artistically arranged campfire in front of their pseudo teepee. The young woman appeared to leap as gracefully as a dear as she crossed a bubbling creek in a diaphanous little dress, carrying a canteen shaped handbag that didn't look like it would be very good for carrying water. I chuckled at her long Sonny and Cher style fur vest and hippy head band. One of the best laughs was an ad for a very expensive handbag that showed a woman using one of the bags to feed a horse. I am not kidding. They evidently were trying to convince perspective buyers that their purses looked like feed bags, which they actually did! Street urchins, feed bags, hippy era fur vests, cadaver makeup - who knew high fashion could be so funny? I think they need to have a few issues of Vogue at every photo shoot. It might help make the models smile.
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![]() In a few days I am going on a trip to visit my twin sister. I am really looking forward to seeing her. I need to be with my real twin and get away from my Evil Twin. I have been spending way too much time with my Evil Twin lately. No matter how much I do to change my life, my Evil Twin is never satisfied. I suppose that’s a good thing because it makes me keep looking for ways I can improve, but it means I spend a lot of time hitting myself over the head for the things I haven’t done instead of celebrating the things I have done. I have been reasonably consistent about walking with a friend and going to the health club to do my exercise routine, but my Evil Twin lets me know that I weigh exactly the same, if not more than I did when I started going to Toadal Fitness. My Evil Twin does not like vegetables. Even though I grow them and fill up my refrigerator with them she discourages me from eating them. Then she turns around and gives me a bad time about not eating in a healthy way. I went shopping at the thrift store for some tops that “make me happy” to take on my trip, but my Evil Twin keeps second guessing me. She is questioning some of my choices, especially the animal prints. Are they fun and whimsical or are they just weird little old lady tops? My Evil Twin talks me into watching reality TV and those corny mysteries on the Hallmark Channel. I have rejected at least four different potential blog entries because my Evil Twin considered them boring and stupid. I know if I keep listening to her I will never publish another post. This is why I really need to get away. My Evil Twin is in my head and won’t leave me alone. I just have to make sure I don’t bring her with me on my trip to see my real twin. I have been reminded lately that music feeds my soul. ________________________________________________________________ I could feel the music in my soul at church this morning. Normally we Lutherans are not very effusive in our emotions at church, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s a friendly, but reserved service. God forbid (or at least the Lutheran version of God) if anyone waved their hands in the air or shouted out “Amen.” Even hymn singing is done in a subdued and proper manner.
It’s weird that I don’t regularly listen to music in my car or at home anymore. It’s certainly in my head all the time. I will have a thought about some problem or experience and immediately a song will come into my head like “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” or some other song from the 60’s. My sister told me they have a new Bose system and have been listening to music a lot lately and it made me think I need to start doing that too. There is a healing quality about music. It goes right to the feeling part of the brain and bypasses the analytical part. What I really loved was to sing. We sang a lot. We sang hymns around the piano on New Year’s Eve at the home of my parent’s friends, the Nelsons. We sang in the 6th grade choir and 9th grade choir at school. That’s where I really learned the mechanics and nuances of singing, and learned how to harmonize. We sang in the car on trips, often singing the songs we had learned in choir. I still sing “Tamale Joe,” “Ragtime Cowboy Joe,” and the one where you sing all the names of the states in alphabetical order. Yes, I really can still do that. I can sing all fifty states alphabetically. Music is an amazing aide for memory.
What would the soundtrack for my life be? Maybe it would be something by the Beatles like "A Long and Winding Road" followed by “When I’m 64," even though I’m past 64. I would want something that touches the emotions lurking under the surface but I’m not even sure what they are. Sometimes I feel a little lost and can’t find what I want. When that happens I think I need to get into the car and drive around listening to music and singing along. That will certainly get me where I want to go.
2. Artsy-craftsy. I like things that are homemade or have an element of being homemade. I grew up in an artsy-craftsy family. My Mom sewed and made decorative things out of cattails, milkweed pods, and pine cones. My Dad, in addition to being a carpenter, knitted and crocheted, and made jewelry out of polished rocks. Our house was always loaded with crafty projects. MY house is loaded with crafty projects. I love clothes that have an artsy-craftsy quality about them, especially some handmade embellishment, like embroidery and crochet. 5. Fun. When I think of fun I think of toys. I love to make miniature furniture and little people to use them. To me fun has a fantasy element to it, something out of the ordinary. Fun clothes need sparkle. I don’t want to go crazy but I do like a few sequins every once in a while. I love my sparkly white Sketchers. They are a combination of tennies and ballerina flats. They are also super comfy. I wear them all the time. I also bought a pair of gold flats for my nephew’s wedding. I saw a woman wearing sparkly gold flats with a casual outfit at the bakery the other day. I think I need to start wearing my gold flats more often. I’m going to write my five adjectives on a card and carry it in my purse so that when I go shopping I can remember what really makes me happy. ![]() Since writing my last blog entry I have been pondering what it means to wear clothes that make me happy. Happiness is an elusive quality. It’s hard to describe and it is completely individual. Where John Lennon found happiness in a “warm gun” and Charles Shultz in a “warm puppy” I find it in a warm gnome, or at least in combining warmth and gnomes. I find happiness getting toasty in front of the heater, or outside soaking up the rays, in the proximity of a gnome. What, you might ask, do gnomes have to do with choosing an inspiring wardrobe? Gnomes are a reflection of my inner aesthetic. I don’t want a lot of gnomes, or any ugly cheap looking gnomes, but a few, carefully selected gnomes in my environment makes me feel good. ![]() I like whimsical, artsy-craftsy things. I also like my environment to feel peaceful, welcoming/accessible, and fun. I became conscious of this when a friend asked me to think of five adjectives that describe the things I love. These are qualities that apply to everything I like to have around me and they have helped me understand what makes me happy. Whimsical, artsy-craftsy, peaceful, welcoming and accessible, and fun are a reflection of my inner aesthetic. They are embedded in my subconscious and I gravitate to things that embody these qualities. They make me happy. When I looked at these qualities in relation to clothes, it was interesting to me that missing from this list are things I thought I SHOULD be striving for in my clothing selection, like “sophisticated,” “avant-guard,” and “trendy.” I like these looks on other people and I thought I wanted to look more like them, but none of them really fit me personally. Armed with my list I started thinking about how they are manifested in my life and what they might mean about how I dress. When I think about these words, I see more clearly how they reflect the true me. ![]() I wouldn’t feel comfortable dressing like any of them, but that’s the point. They are dressing to make THEMSELVES happy. One of the women (Bridget) says “Style as one gets older, is more noticeable. How I look is to do with my identity and the fun of it. It’s nothing to do with looking younger.” YES! This is a rule I can live with. As the reviewer states, “wearing things that make you happy gives a sense of wellbeing, regardless of what anyone else thinks, and it helps in dealing with a good deal of the discomfort that comes with getting older.” I don’t need to try looking younger; I can just wear clothes that make me happy. Sometimes it makes me happy to follow the rules and sometimes not. I didn’t feel comfortable in revealing clothes when I was younger so I am surely not going to feel happy in them now, but they might make some people feel very happy. I don’t like to wear scarves around my neck because it is short and squatty, but those actresses who feel happy covering up their wrinkly neck should go for it. I felt very happy in my vein covering nude hose at my nephew's wedding. Yay me! Unfortunately this just takes me back to where I was when I started searching the internet, without any clear cut rules. It’s not easy to decide in the changing room if a particular item of clothing “makes me happy.” It’s also not an excuse to throw caution to the wind and not care about how I look, which is often my default mode. I guess looking at what makes me happy does give me a focus on how to proceed. I can look through my closet and get rid of things that are OK, but don’t push my happy button. When I shop I can think about whether I like something just because it minimizes my not-so-attractive parts or because it really makes me smile when I look in the mirror. Hummmmm, I think I might be feeling the need to go shopping. ![]() I am not a fashion rebel. In fact my wardrobe leans more to the conservative, frumpy side. I have never been known to be a flashy dresser. I started thinking about whether or not my clothes make me look old when my cousin told me a story about two elderly women she knew who decided to join a bridge club at their local senior center. They told her that they enjoyed playing cards, but also commented on how old some of the people looked. Evidently, even in their 80’s, they did not see themselves being as old. They were always very nattily dressed and felt that many of the women at the senior center leaned more towards the “little old lady with cats” look I have been known to adopt. I decided to do some research about what kind of clothes make you look older, with the idea in mind of achieving a more “youthful” look. There are a lot of rules out there about how old folks (which on some internet sites starts at 40!?) should or shouldn’t dress. The general consensus is that you should “dress your age.” This makes me think about putting everyone in t-shirts emblazoned with a giant number that clearly establishes how old they are, but in its practical application it boils down to avoiding shopping in the section for teens if you aren’t one. I’m good with that. I don’t fit into anything in the junior department anyway. There are an abundance of wardrobe specific rules about what could make you look older: An all-black outfit, leopard print overkill, cardigans, mom jeans, baggy pants, tweed, socks and sneakers for everyday wear, turtlenecks or neck scarves used to hide a wrinkly neck, nude stockings to hide leg veins (bare legs are the norm now for young women), a poor-fitting bra, too much or too little makeup, revealing clothing like very short and/or tight fitting skirts and very low necklines, and trendy clothes from another era even if they have come back into style. These are just a few of the rules. There are conflicting opinions on them. Yes, an all black outfit could make you look like one of those Greek widows you see bent over sweeping their doorsteps. On the other hand I’ve seen women with striking silver hair look very chic in all black. I see older actresses on TV violate the “no turtle necks and scarves hiding the neck” rule all the time. To me it does scream “I hate my wrinkly saggy neck. It makes me think they must have a neck that looks worse than mine. I broke the no nude stockings rule by wearing nude panty hose to my nephew’s wedding. No one pointed and whispered about me in the way they might have if my knarly leg veins were on display. Except for the no revealing clothes rule, I’ve probably broken most of these rules at one time or other. I was hoping I would find some concrete rules about what to wear, but instead I found a lot of people happily breaking the rules. I found an interesting British TV documentary called “Fabulous Fashionistas” (clips of the program can be found on YouTube www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKAR3HsrNsQ). According to a review it features “six women with an average age of 80, who are determined to look fabulous, have fun and redefine old age.” It features remarkable women, including a model who is back working in her 70’s, an 87 year old dancer/choreographer, and 91 year old Lady Trumpington who is one of the oldest members of the House of Peers. They are not your average seniors in any sense of the word. What they have in common is that they each have a sense of style that is unique and personal, and does not stick with the rules of how to dress as an older woman. ![]() I joined the writers group where I spoke about blogging a month or so ago. I love the idea of getting feedback on my writing and hearing what others have written. There are some interesting and inspiring writers in the group. At the last meeting we were given a visual prompt. It was a photo of a tunnel with a figure at the end. We each wrote a 25 word, or less, opening sentence for a story based on the prompt. What came up for me was a version of something I had been writing about in my blog, the idea of having a curious interest in dating. My opening sentence was: Who the heck put the idea in my head that I was even capable of setting foot in a place like the “Tunnel of Love.” I think it came out of my ambivalence and fear over even thinking about dating and relationships. After we shared our opening sentences we decided to each use our sentences to write a short story to share with the group at the next meeting. I’ve spent the last few weeks writing and rewriting, and rewriting some more. It wasn’t easy. I found it particularly hard to think in terms of writing fiction. I contemplated writing a mystery because I read a lot of mysteries and watch them on TV. Forget that. I didn’t have a CLUE (ha, ha) about even getting started. I am so used to just throwing out whatever is in my head when I write my blog that it was hard to put my ideas in story form. Developing a story and characters seemed very foreign. As a result, my “story” is really a modified blog entry. The character is me but the setting is fictional. The person who led the group had talked about the importance of being vulnerable in your writing. That really hit a cord with me. I have been doing this in my blog, sometimes consciously but sometimes things just come out that I don’t expect to appear on the page. It was a challenge when I was writing the story to find a balance about what I was going to share about my character ( i.e. ME) and how vulnerable I was going to be. My first drafts were way over the edge on the TMI (too much information) scale. It made me think of the times my Dad shared things about his relationship with my Mom that I had never heard before and really didn’t want to know anyway. I just wanted to put my fingers in my ears and go “La, La, La. . .” to block out what felt like TMI. I didn’t want the writing group to be sitting there with their fingers in their ears. What finally really helped was a comment my friend made about my “Evil Twin” (no relation whatever to my real twin) when I was telling her how I felt everything I wrote was boring and stupid. I really liked that she gave the negative voices in my head an actual name. I decided to make my Evil Twin somewhat of a character in my story. I like my Evil Twin even though she says bad things to me. Sometimes villains are the most interesting characters. I actually think I need to get to know my Evil Twin better. Maybe I will write about her again. I drew on things I had written in my blog for parts of my story and even borrowed some phrases that I had used in blog posts. It felt good when it finally came together. I’ve posted it on a new page called “Writer’s Workshop,” which is accessible at the top of my blog. It’s called “Tunnel of Love.” I got a positive response from my writer's group about it. They are all senior women and they understood and sympathized with the character in the story.
![]() Years ago a friend, who was in her mid-eighties at the time, tried to coach me in the art of flirting. I don’t recall that it was very successful. I do recall that SHE was the one that was dating, not me. I think her directions involved making eye contact and smiling in a back and forth manner. The friend that I was walking with this morning suggested that the tone of the voice is important. The way that Joey on the show “Friends” says “How YOU doin’?” comes to mind or a modified Marilyn Monroe voice. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing either of them. Not only do I have difficulty flirting, my internal radar that is supposed to pick up flirting signals from the opposite sex is not very good either. When I think of past encounters, I realize that I completely missed opportunities to connect with men who were flirting with me. I remember one time a very nice guy saw me struggling trying to load stuff from a lumber store onto the top of my car and offered to load it into his truck. He drove it over to my school where I was setting up my room for a new school year. He was new to the area and we chatted briefly but I was in tunnel vision mode trying to fix up my classroom. It was only after he had gone that I realized he was flirting. I can’t believe I missed an opportunity to meet someone at the lumber yard. I have a thing about hardware stores and lumber yards and the men that frequent them. When the show “Home Improvement” was on TV I loved the character Al. I even went to a Home Show at the local fairgrounds where he was appearing and got his autograph. I am hoping that the changes I feel at this age, being more accepting of myself and more open to new possibilities in my life, will make me less likely to miss an opportunity to meet someone in the lumber yard or any other place. I still don’t feel like dating material. I feel OK about the way I look in the photos from my nephew’s wedding but I don’t think I look like a “hot babe” either. My housemate, who is talking from a man’s perspective, assures me that men my age aren’t looking for a “hot babe” in the way they were when they were younger. He reminded me that the best way to connect with people, men or women, is by doing the things you love. That’s encouraging. It’s something I do naturally, unlike flirting. Naked is a word that captures the imagination. I have noticed that there are several TV shows with “naked” in the title and I suspect people watch them partly because of this. I wonder if it works as well for blogs as it does for TV shows? I could change the title of my blog. “Naked Little Old Lady with cats” has a nice ring to it and certainly grabs your attention more than plain “Little Old Lady with cats.” I found out from talking to my Dad’s caregiver that he used to watch “Naked and Afraid.” It was a bit of a surprise to me. I can see him in my mind’s eye, sitting in his wheelchair, scooted up close to the big flat screen TV so he could see better. Never in a million years did I imagine that he would be watching “Naked and Afraid.” The premise of the show is that two people, a man and a woman, are abandoned naked in some remote location. Somehow they have to garner their survival skills. I suspect the survival part is what appealed to Dad, but I could be wrong. Dad had had a lot of experience in the outdoors and he liked shows that had a survival twist. His caregiver said Dad didn’t think the people on the show had much in the line of survival skills. I suspect he thought that he could have done as well or better, whether or not he was naked, and he probably would have been right. ![]() I noticed there is another show called “Dating Naked.” I shudder to think what that must be like. You are already vulnerable enough in a dating situation. Being naked while dating would be a nightmare for me. I have enough body image issues fully dressed. As least with clothes you can call attention to your good parts and camouflage the not so good ones. It would be hard for me to make a good first impression naked. I don’t think any amount of witty conversation could draw attention away from my “little old lady with cats” body. Of course my date would be naked too. That doesn’t appeal to me either. The inspiration for this “naked” blog entry was my sister’s dream. The other day, she told me she had a dream about me in which I was almost naked. I was an artist’s model for a friend and a couple of other people. She said I had a sheet on and was posing like a Greek statue, I imagine similar to the Venus de Milo but with arms. In the dream I said that I would be happy to model naked. I was smiling. The whole dream sounded happy. People were drawing me in bright primary colors. I thought it was very interesting that I was so willing to be naked in her dream. I have had naked dreams of my own. I usually discover that for some reason I have inadvertently forgotten to wear clothes. In my own dreams I’m not so happy to be naked so I was glad that I felt comfortable in my sister’s dream. A long time ago I used to write down my dreams and share them in a class on dreaming. We learned about all the different ways of interpreting dreams. My first impression about my sister’s dream was that it was about my blog. I know she reads my blog and knows that I have revealed a lot about myself. I think being naked is about being vulnerable. You can’t hide who you really are. I liked the fact that it was a happy dream and I was so willing to be naked and vulnerable. I know I have revealed much more about myself in my blog than I ever imagined I would, including posting photos of my whole body (with clothes). No need to worry, however. I won’t be changing the title of my blog and I won't be posting any pictures of myself naked either. |
Leslie Masona woman in search of her post-retirement future Guess what! By subscribing, you get notices about the latest Little Old Lady with Cats posts sent to your mailbox!
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WHAT IS A LITTLE OLD LADY WITH CATS - REALLY?
(from an entry posted on 5/1/2015) “I definitely fit some of the characteristics of a little old lady with cats: Retired - check, Single - check, Like to knit - check, Have cats - check. . .I do not want to get stuck in my Little Old Lady persona, however. In fact, this blog is a risk taking experiment in exploring and redefining what I want my retired life to look like.” Categories
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