Rockin' Robin

This is not a paid post, I wasn't even asked to write about our forthcoming holiday at Potter's Leisure Resort. But sometimes, a spontaneous "Thank you, please keep doing what you do best!"  is needed. Just because.

I love Robins, we have a few tame ones here and they are really friendly. Too friendly in fact as our black panther cat managed to catch my husband's favourite last winter, much to his dismay! Robins do indeed "rock", they are wonderful birds but this post is more about the paper kind of "robin", that frequently enclosed in Christmas cards!

Photo courtesy of Jacob Spinks on Flickr Creative Commons 

We have received (and sent) fewer and fewer Christmas cards in recent years. Those I most enjoy receiving contain the "round robin" updates frequently sent to fill us in on last year's events. The modern version comes complete with colour photos, even the odd url to add detail. Those we receive are usually a lovely read,  I am always pleasantly surprised! Whilst I have been guilty of sending them myself in the past with everything pretty much online now I suspect friends see more than enough of my family the rest of the year, so I abstain. Anyway, to send one you need to write cards, and those left for me by the time the children have selected the best are barely worth sending!

Cartoon from Some eCards

It's all gone Pear Shaped

This over 40 lark is pretty cool, most of the time. But occasionally age sneaks up and catches you unawares, rocking the thirty-something boat you had been comfortably sailing in and dragging you back to reality. It can be quite a shock.

Of course, age, or "ageing" can be a beautiful thing. And whilst there is certainly a tipping point (I would deny embracing each birthday with the enthusiasm my children do) I have relished aspects of time's inevitable progress. Occasionally it even seems I get "one over" on the years - slipping back into my pre-twin pregnancy jeans a week after delivery was certainly impressive - but what matters most to me, and indeed to most women, is feeling in control. Surprises I can do without.

No longer shopping in GAP sale because your parenting style is less "Toddler Taming up close and personal" and more "stroppy tweens from a distance" is certainly liberating. But that in effect is taking back control a little, identifying with your own needs. So when there is a lack of reciprocal cooperation from the body you have (for the most part) completely ignored for most of the past twenty years it seems reasonable that it should just have been placed "on hold" until you had time to get back to it...... I never thought for a minute it might have started to change - at least a little.  After all , I'm IN it, I would have noticed, right?

Wrong. Gravity has struck back and appears to have taken the first round.

What is particularly infuriating, is that this hasn't crept up on me in a slow, inevitable process over a couple of years. Neither have I gained weight. It is simply a case of Middle-Aged Spread. Or more precisely.... Middle-Aged Spreading Out.

Photo courtesy of Kiran Foster via Flickr Creative Commons

I'm not that vain, I almost never weigh myself and barely cast a glance in any available mirror. I don't have time - or the remotest inclination. But I do expect the "me" that looks back when I DO choose to focus beyond the varifocals at my reflection to be somewhat familiar.

Is that totally unreasonable?

So yesterday I was brought up short (literally) as I saw myself in our full length landing mirror, actually pausing long enough to register the image reflected. At 5'9" I'm a pretty lanky sort of girl, the GAP "Long and Lean" variety when it comes to jeans. But yesterday for a fleeting moment I thought someone had swapped our mirror for a fairground one as I appeared shorter and, well... with a rear end more J-Lo than previously. More "pear" than usual you might say..... more "Curvy" than "Long and Lean" at any rate.

A quick weight check reassured me that I really hadn't been scoffing chocolate biscuits whilst sleep walking, so I am forced to face the inevitable. That it's time to start telling people tall and skinny is SO last year and I'm embracing my inner Pear. Booty is Bootiful.

Now I just need to book into that Latin dance class......