Please stop talking crazy massage lady. Or, is this really happening?

I prefer to be compared to Dr. Jean Grey, thank you very much. 

"You're in Wonderwoman Mode."

I open one eye. Is this lady for real? She says this with a laugh in her voice.

“You are racing around. You are chasing your kids, chasing your husband, watching your weight, you are in the keeping up with the Joneses stage.”

Maybe I should back up.

This is coming from the woman giving me my thirty minute shoulder massage at the chiropractor that I visited this morning.

Maybe I should back up even more.

I don’t like being chatty during a massage. I don’t know if it is because I never think there is something interesting enough to say, or that I like to let my mind wander, or that I like to even doze a little. I want to enjoy the massage experience. I don’t like to talk about the weather, or really any other small talk. And, I do NOT like to have conversations like THAT. Most massage therapists are great and pick up on that. ACTUALLY EVERYONE I HAVE EVER BEEN TO MINUS THIS ONE.

It gets better.

“I know you are always wondering if Mrs. Jones looks better than you. Well, she doesn’t. “

Oh my God, please shut up.

Wait. Did this lady read my blog about turning forty - is that why she is bringing this up? OR, WORSE. She is looking at me and can tell I am spending way too much time doing EXACTLY WHAT SHE SAID. Is it written all over me? I mean I am tired from a sick Crossfit 1607 (shameless plug) workout yesterday, but I didn’t think it was that obvious! Couldn’t be that, it has to be the dark circles that have taken up permanent residency around my eyes. That must be what set this lady off. No thanks to the shit ton of money I spend on moisturizer and makeup to PREVENT EXACTLY THESE KINDS OF CONVERSATIONS. Did I say something to start this? Unlikely based on my reluctance to say anything during a massage. Does she start all massages this way? And on the off chance that I want to TALK ABOUT THIS, I don't want to talk about it with strangers during a massage.

So she goes on:

“Well, one day you will grow out of it.” She laughs. She thinks this whole thing is really very funny. A very been there done that funny.

“Someday you won’t care.”

Sigh. Should I be laughing with her? Or offer up a sort of half laugh of acknowledgment? Or say, guilty as charged! Or maybe I should just have said:

You know (insert name here) you are SO right. What am I thinking! This conversation, despite being incredibly awkward - as I am getting a massage and under this blanket I am not wearing a shirt, has really opened my eyes to all of this silliness. Thank you, thank you so much. Such a huge help.

But I wouldn’t do that. If I did that, there would be no need for this blog. And, I wouldn’t be me. Instead I just think...oh just be quiet and she will go away. SO it gets quiet for a few minutes, or maybe it isn’t really quiet, she is kind of just talking under her breath a little bit - probably about my poor choices.

Until...

“Well that’s a whole-nother ball of wax right there.”

Wait. Where? What is she talking about? She doesn’t say. Instead she says something I still don’t understand.

“You like to work out buff, huh?”

What? Was that even English? Is she looking for a response? Did I even hear her right? Maybe she was saying I am a workout buff? What do I say now?

Well no need. She finishes the shoulder massage. Tells me to drink water. Assures me that was the quickest half hour of my life and then she is gone. I laugh, collect my things, and pray that this woman is not scheduled to work this coming Tuesday.

Did I mention I turned forty?

My 40th surprise party. :)

Forty. I turned around and there it was. 
I'm not thrilled. 

So what is wrong with forty? Well, besides the obvious? I'll make a Top 5 list. 

1. It's old. It feels old.
Especially compared to younger people. Even saying "younger people" proves my point. (What's next? I start saying things like "when I was young there was no internet!" Or, I bust out a joke about the brick cell phone...and nobody laughs because they are all younger people.) Aah, younger people...they always seem less tired than me. 

2. My own personal trainer/motivator appears to be on a coffee break - an extended one.
You know who I mean, that internal voice that for so long has told you "Go to the gym! Get out of bed and get there! Hey, do two classes! Don't eat that! Five more crunches! Run faster!" Well, somewhere along the way she stopped being so pushy. She doesn't seem to mind when I don't workout. And she really seems to like carbohydrates - not always the complex ones, either. 

3. You're supposed to know better.  
Example: No more drinking your face off because when you do it takes you two days to recover. Okay, more relevant to me: you can't have three drinks in the course of one night because it takes you two days to recover. Alright, alright, maybe it's just one drink. 

4. Other people around you are getting old.
Or older. And some of them are sick. And somehow you are supposed to be old enough now to handle that. 

5. Finally this.
I do this thing now where when someone is X years old and then I calculate that I have only so many years till I AM THAT OLD. So first, I am doing a lot of excess math during my day. I don't love that. Second, those numbers trouble me...what will I actually be like when I am X years old? I mean besides OLD. But then I usually say to myself, when I am that old, this $hit better not bother me.  

I did ask Ella, who is sitting next to me: What do you think the worst thing about turning 40 is? She says, nothing is. I mean except you are only 60 years from being 100. That is probably the worst thing. And why are you blogging about turning 40? You should have blogged about that a year ago. She makes a good point about that. Forty one is less than a month away.

Soon I can't even use this keychain!

ps. I admit to not always embracing the lighter side of turning forty. I have had a tough time getting my arms around it - just ask my poor husband. What exactly about this milestone bothers me? Well, for one thing, I can't help thinking fifty is like right there. If the next nine years go as fast as the last did, anyway. What will I be like when I am fifty?! And I thought forty was old. 

Wasn't I just an art student in NYC, stomping around Manhattan? Oh right, that was twenty years ago. Maybe it is the way that time goes so fast that it steals memories and moments from you when you are not looking. Or maybe it is feeling like part of me still wants to be young and carefree and wants to take chances. Maybe.

I realize that much of this is just in my head, and I see women around me aging gracefully (ack, I hate that term) and blah blah blah they seem to be handling it quite well - like they don't mind at all. Well, maybe they are, maybe they aren't. I also realize that with age comes certain gifts, new ways of understanding. And I know I am truly fortunate in my life - that hasn't been forgotten despite my ranting. But inside I want to fight getting older. But then I don't. But then I do. This is definitely a battle for me that you, lucky reader are going to be able to witness. Okay that could mean just my mom and Shawn. And Katie. No matter, tuck in guys. :)

Since you've been gone. Or, how do you like me now.

See, long hair.

Or maybe,

The more things change...

I have spent the last half an hour or so brainstorming a title for a blog post that I am not even sure I am going to write. Okay, I am writing it right NOW, but I don't know if I will actually publish this one.

Why not? Well, it has been close to five years since I last wrote a blog for The Viscosity of Me. And a whole HELL OF A LOT has happened. I have been writing blogs for my vacation rental agency, and hold on to your hat, for USA Today's 10Best. (Three 10Best lists, to be exact. Too many to be called a gimmie - not sure why I need to qualify that, except to myself.) But that writing is less personal. Less about me stretching - no, not like yoga - but in stretching as a human being.

After the last few years in particular, do I have it in me to be as honest as I once was?

Looking back at the posts about Ella and Holden I can't help but laugh - at them, at me, at everything. At my bend towards drama, at their wonderful silliness, at my tenuous hold on my sanity.

Well, I held on.

The same players are still in this game.

Shawn, husband extraordinaire. Remains the funniest person I have ever met, yet very serious in pictures.

Ella, now a ten year old. (Ten, as I am learning, is very close to tween. It is like a toe in the world of tween. The world where they say things like: "Really, mom?" And "You are so annoying you have ruined my day.") And, as extraordinary as you would expect her to be - after reading about her at five.

Holden, eight years old and when he is not running, jumping, wrestling, doing pull ups, climbing ropes, doing gymnastics, riding his skateboard, playing mine craft or riding his bike, he is telling me how much he loves me. This kid is all heart. In related news, I still say "Holden, where are your clothes?" about as often as I did when he was three. I am not even kidding.


So what's different?

To start, me.  Okay I am still angsty, still have a flare for drama, but now my hair is really long.

I am five years older, and potentially wiser - at least I hope so. Maybe a bit weathered - more on that to come. Forgetful - or more ditzy than I used to be. I like to attribute it to being so busy...I mean I hope that is the reason, but I secretly fear I am losing my marbles.

And then there is King. He is our large, very lovable, perpetually starving, mutt of a dog. I challenge you to find a nicer dog. You won't. And, that said, he personally makes me crazy and rarely does a day go by that I don't fantasize about dropping him off at his new family's house.

Aaah, there's that girl we used to know.