Absurd Meter

I have two followers now. They seem to like my mental meanderings. Laughter heals, we all know that.  We also know how much better we feel when we can laugh at the absurdities we endure each day. Right now the absurd meter is having to recalibrate to even get a read out.  
Off the charts absurd theses days. So, in an effort to work within this state of being, I am going to wash my hair.

Thighs

Today I have decided not to think about my thighs or the thickness that has formed around my middle. I am 61; however, so these kind of body changes are bound to happen. I am not overweight by my standards.  I can fit into a size 8 or 10 depending on who the designer is. Unfortunately, the world see a size 10 as a Bootress, Bootress GOLLY, kind of a woman that should stay home, never go out in public especially in leggings.

But today, despite what the world says, I am choosing to be happy with my body the way it is.  Did I tell you I have been trying to find an exercise routine for the last six years and I have finally given up?  Besides, who gives a flip what the flippin world thinks anyway. (Note: the bitter tone in the last flippin' sentence. I wish to use a more exact expletive, but my mama told me not to talk that way in public. )

Oh! Did I mention that the “world” I am referring to is that group of men that seem to have the power to make the ultimate decisions on what defines female beauty. And one more thing, did I mention that I have really curly hair that I have to straighten with a hot iron everyday, so I don’t look like Carrot Top without props, and that I have never been married  (my choice by the way, just so you don’t think that I am totally undesirable.)  Wow!  Hard to fathom isn’t it?  I am telling you, the work I have to put in everyday. Makes a girl want to run naked and shout, "Take a look at this. I haven't had any work done, can you tell"?

So, I will focus on the things that bring me joy. Frost on the trees, river walks, great art, the smell of freshly pulled espresso, a good whine. I won't focus on things that bring me down---like gyms. (I am back on the exercise rant.) I am not turned on by the smell of sweat in an enclosed area surround by latex, headsets, bowflex and thick necks. However, I do enjoy the subtle yet intoxication aroma of Old Spice on a a sweaty man, but, unfortunately, they aren't in the gyms these days, they are in retirement homes--my next stop. Care to join me?  Bring your yoga mat and get ready to do Down Dog.  Sit Boo Boo sit.

Meanwhile four years later

It was brought to my attention, in an email from a friend, that since it has taken a long time for me to finish my book "Playing To The End," I should start a blog and post my essays, so I would feel like I was making some progress, since this little project has been a work in progress for 8 years. I thought she might be on to something. Then I remembered, I had started a blog right after the passing of my Mother known to some as Mama Drama. So, I typed in my name and there it was--my blog. I called it "Of a Sensitive Nature."

I think I need a new title.  Until I come up with one, I will call this blog "Overly Enthusiastic Perfectionist" and begin posting my essays. Besides it will save on paper. But, I still want to hold my book in my hands one day and sign copies to give to friends. I want to stand around at a cocktail party and tell everyone I'm an author. I want Oprah to call me and tell me she was moved by my writing. I want to know she relates. I want her to buy me a car too, but that has nothing to do with this rambling.  I want to see my book on a shelf at a bookstore, if there are any left by the time I finish this project. So, yes Leslie (the woman who wrote  the email suggesting I start a blog) I think a blog is an excellent idea.  I am ahead of the game, however; I already have one, so I will begin at the beginning after I take a nap.