Time for a midlife crisis . . .



I was just looking at the calendar and realized that I’ll be fifty-years-old in six months. I already take decent care of myself, but I suppose I should do more before everything falls apart (like it has for the rest of you). Anyway, I was going to yoga quite often last year, but then I tripped over a stump in my garden, tearing a hamstring muscle. It didn’t stop me from working out or doing yoga on my own, but it did keep me from going to classes because I felt as if I wasn’t performing. I know that’s not what you’re supposed to be thinking about in yoga classes, but that’s how I think. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful: hate me because I’m vain.

My hamstring is almost fully-recovered, so I’m going to go to a drop-in yoga class this afternoon. I need to something else to fixate on besides clothes. I can’t stop shopping lately. After telling myself that I don’t need anything else, just this past month I bought a Tumi backpack, a Versace denim shirt, six pairs of Missoni socks, a Theory shirt, a Levis bomber jacket, some Brooks Brothers pants, and probably some other stuff that I’m not remembering at the moment. It’s like I’m having a midlife crisis, and because I don’t want to buy a Porsche like my bald brother, I’m spending my money on fancy clothes instead.

I need to worry more about what’s going on underneath my clothes (according to Shakira, there’s an endless story there). Maybe I’ll get a tattoo. I need to do something. I guess I’ll start with the one-handed, upside-down tree pose and see where that goes . . .


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