...officially. I turned 45 the other day, Thursday.
Most of the time, I don't mind. I like my wisdom, my maturity, my understanding. I've learned tons. Except for the "no money" part, I love the hell out of my life, my kid, my two men. One takes care of my heart and soul, the other takes care of our child, and contributes to our living. Who'da thunk it. That life would be like this. That except for the "no money" thing I'd be pretty damn happy at 45.
I am NOT, however, particularly feeling my 45-year old body... my sister inherited my mother's faulty teeth; I inherited my father's faulty feet. My knees tend to hurt. My heels are KILLING me, mainly because of the extra weight I've put on since the summer. And I am NOT feeling the extra weight at all. I don't mind my ass so much... but I'm not digging the belly. I never had a belly. Or the saggy boobs. I joke that I used to have big boobs and a flat belly; now I have flat boobs and a big belly. But what the hell... shapewear and push-ups work well but I'm annoyed I need them.
And the whole fertility thing. A few weeks back I went for my bi-annual chick-exam, and the doctor asked me brightly "Do you want your tubes tied?" "Um, NO!" I said emphatically. "It's painless now" he went on, thinking my hesitation was the pain. "We can do it in the office". "No, thank you" I said. "I'm not ready for that yet." So then he offered an IUD.
In retrospect I realized his concern was my being on the pill for two years, and at "my age" it's not really recommended, but at the time I was just annoyed cuz it wasn't something I wanted to think about.
But then for various reasons there was a month lapse in my prescription, and I skipped a period.
I was confronted with the prospect of having a baby at 45. Now that didn't bother me at all. Except I wondered if my heels and my knees could tolerate the 65 lbs I would surely gain, but other than that, and of course the "no money" thing I would have been allright with it. BigMan was a brick... never a hesitation, no freak-out moments, no withdrawing. Certainly no temper tantrums the way the ParentingPartner had. So baby at 45 wasn't scary. But 16-year-old (and with my luck, a girl) at 61 is sort of a sobering thought. So I dunno.
As it turned out, period started exactly a month after it skipped, same bat time, same bat channel and so there's no baby at 45.
But then that gave me a pang cuz it means I'm not that fertile anymore. No more "one-hit" wonders and it made me wonder: if BigMan and I decided to try... would we be able to? And that thought really sucked.
The axis of my world is still tipping... I can still feel things changing and I'm not sure what the outcome will be. I suppose a great deal of it has to do with the fact that in addition to me turning 45, my child is spending his last few months in elementary school. Oh, and he's beginning to look like a teenager:
Actually right here he looks like his Albanian cousin. But the point is he's got a mustache and a slight musky smell, and he's eye level with me. Oh. And he may have hit full blown puberty. His voice is cracking and deepening.
I'm an old beeatch, officially. I'm not really sure I like it.
However, I threw a birthday party for myself and I looked damn good and partied like a RockStar and lost count at about six shots of tequila though I'm certain I hit ten. And I could still remember 99% of the night, including my BigMan taking me to Fordham Road afterwards for White Castle, and then bringing me home and I never blacked out/threw up/cried/required holding up. So I still got it.
And speaking of BigMan... Sitting across from him at a diner the following afternoon I realized I really like him. I like him in my life. I will even give up my comfy and emotionally safe fullsize bed for a Queen sized bed, to accommodate him. He was amazed that my bed is 15 years old. Amazed that no one before complained about the bed. But I told him no one was ever really in it long enough to complain. He said "But you have the Sun...." and I said "but ParentingPartner never lived with us, and once we moved here he didn't stay here very often."
And that gave me a start... to realize I have essentially lived alone for 15 years. Well, lived without a man. That's a fucking long-ass time. So with another start I realize I almost want the BigMan here full time... but I can't until I can right my financial wrongs.
It's important to set goals...
This week was a big week for us, BigMan and me. I think we both hit upon a trust. About two weeks ago he'd had bad time. I pretty much figured out what was eating at him, but he refused to discuss it and it pissed me off. Pissed me off because I don't come from a family that hides pain. Now, there is stuff I'll sit on for a day or two, to process it, but no longer than that. This thing took days with him, and it pissed me off because I already knew what was bothering him but he wouldn't talk about it. And I seriously considered just cutting him loose. But I didn't. And last week, he "came clean" about it finally. He was so sad. I told him what I thought, what I thought he should do but I already know him well enough to know that that's all that can be said.
But I guess because I didn't push him, I earned some trust from him. And I could feel our relationship change. Into a companionship, not just a sexual thing, or a physical attraction, or a convenience.
He's a little high maintenance, though, and his health worries me. He doesn't like crowds or small spaces. But I can tell when he's not feeling well or comfortable and don't mind trying to make him feel better. I don't mind, because he takes care of me. In very small ways, like making sure I walk on the inside. Or opening doors for me. Or washing dishes, whether or not I ask. And he makes breakfast and has figured out how to make my coffee. These things count... they make up for a lot of other things.
So, at 45, I'm an old beeatch, officially. And I'm not sure I like it, but life is good.