All posts tagged aging

Eyebrows And Hairy Legs

Published April 22, 2017 by mindfulofchatter

As some of you may remember (although why you would, I don’t know), I decided to stop plucking my eyebrows in some keeping up the Joneses (or perhaps Kardashians) shape and let them be plain old eyebrows. I discovered along the way that eyebrows actually take a long time to fully regrow – up to 65 days, sometimes longer, and in a few cases never.

My eyebrows are looking less odd and more normal. The patchy spots have mostly regrown, and the odd little stripes I had on each eyebrow are almost gone completely. The hairs are now all growing in the proper direction and not trying stick up or swing backwards. They are a mix of dark and blonde hairs with a few white hairs tossed in fun. I have been better about keeping the outer edges looking nice, so all is going well in the eyebrow department. They look pretty darn good.

Now the legs. I hadn’t shaved them in ages. It was cold outside, I wear long pants at work (per uniform requirements) and I have no one to complain about them being fuzzy. Plus my shower is the size of small telephone booth making shaving a challenge even for a professional contortionist. So I just let them go.

I had a look at them the other day. Summer is coming and I don’t need to be fuzzy legged in summer dresses. The hair had gotten to be about 1/2″ long. But what is funny is how it now growing in. The backs of my legs have no hair at all. They are smooth and soft. The hair is mostly growing on the front over my shin bones. The sides are patchy with hairless areas here and there. My knees are as hairless as the backs of my legs.

Too bad the fronts can’t follow the backs and give up growing hair. That would be nice. It would be even better if my armpits would take up the no hair mantra. But so far, they aren’t cooperating.

If the hair had grown in blonde, I may have left it alone and gone on my merry way. But it was dark (though not scratchy at all and kinda soft) and showed up very well against my very light skin. So I squeezed myself into the shower and managed to shave the fronts smooth once again. I will say having to shave only the front half of my legs is wonderful. This is far easier than having manage knees and leg backs.

I hope that the fronts come to see how useless growing all that hair is.



My Face Is Sliding Off! Where’s The Glue?

Published August 15, 2014 by mindfulofchatter



After my foray into the world of online food advice, I decided to dip my toes into the internet once again. This time I wanted to see what the world had to say about the infamous sagging neck.

Now, we all have things about our reflections we dislike. As we stand and study every wrinkle and imperfection on our faces, we wonder if there is a way to fix it. My sister, for example, once asked how I felt about us all having ‘the great Belgium Honker’ (my father’s grandparents hailed from Belgium. We all have the same freaking nose).  I had never really given my nose much thought. But my sister had always thought her nose was enormous and ugly. So now I had to go look at my nose. And there it was. The same nose I’d always had. A little crooked, a small scar across the middle, two nostrils (thank goodness there weren’t suddenly three) and that little bump on one side. Nope, I still don’t see it as huge.

But my neck, aha! Now that is a different story. I see my neck as the ugly part of my face. It has a sag in the center. Yup. Ye olde turkey neck is on its way. So I wondered if there were new things out there to ‘fix’ it. Or at least make it less turkey-like. Or ish.

The internet did not let me down. (what a fun place the internet is. Kind of like one gigantic infomercial for crappy stuff)

There were several sites labeled along the lines of ’10 Ways To Fix Your Neck Wrinkles’ and ‘Have A Younger Looking Neck In 6 Easy Steps’. Wow! My dream has come true at last! I can’t wait to find out all the closely guarded secrets to fix a saggy neck!

They start out the same: Creams. Just slather a certain type of cream on your neck and the wrinkles will be minimized. Use a tightening cream and it may (not a sure thing, mind you) make your neck appear more lifted. Appear. This is an important thing to note. It will not actually lift your neck, just make it appear lifted. So now we are applying an optical illusion? And as with all creams, lotions and items along that line, any progress your skin appears (there’s that word again!) to make will stop as soon as you stop using the cream.

Next up we have mircoderm abrasion. They seem to be trying to tell me I simply remove the wrinkles by using an abrasive scrub or rotary tool with an abrasive pad (I don’t recommend using a belt sander or orbital sander). The idea behind is that you make micro cuts in your skin that allow the new skin and collagen to come to the surface, thus creating a younger look. Or appearance. I call this method re-surfacing the moon. It can dangerous if not done correctly, or done too often.

Botox injections. Okay………let’s inject poison into our skin and, in essence, freeze the muscles. Or not.

The Life Style Lift. They do this thing on your lunch hour. Right there I am suspicious. In one hour I can have the neck of my dreams? Um…… not buying it. What is the catch? I tried to look into it further, but you have to call. There are only before and after photos on their website. But I did run into a friend of friend whose friend (stay with me here) had it done. Apparently, they pull the loose skin up and basically rubber-band it into small knots, then hide the knots in your hair. Try explaining that to your significant other when they run their hands through your hair. Ew. Just – ew.

These lists often continue with ridiculous advice about foods, topical masks and how to wash your face and neck. I never thought I needed directions on how to wash my face. After all, I’ve managed to wash my face all by myself for 50 some odd years now. Not once have I managed to wash my face incorrectly. I mean really, how difficult is it? Soap, water, clean towel, done. No my dears, I do not use a fancy, dancy facial cleanser. That’s pretty much what soap is.

But all these lists end the same way. Get a neck lift. A surgical neck lift. That’s right boys and girls, let some guy (or gal) with a knife play cut and paste with your face. I actually went to a plastic surgeon for a consultation several years ago. I was curious and wanted to know how it was done. I was told I great skin for a lift. Yay! Then he began to go through how the lift was done. Incisions made here, here, and here. Pulling the skin up, cutting away the loose bits and stitching all the bits and parts back together. And then there’s the recovery. Six to eight weeks of swelling, redness, pain, itching……….wow! Where do I sign up for that! I can’t wait to be totally miserable and hide from the world for up to two months. Plus it was about 10 grand. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have that kind of cash laying about for trivial things like fixing my neck skin simply because I dislike it.

In the end I decided I was just fine the way I am. No, I haven’t developed a sudden love for my turkey neck. I have just found ways to accept it. It is part of who I am and my aging process. I’m not going to freak out because my neck isn’t the same neck I had at 20. Okay, it is the same neck. I didn’t have a neck replacement or anything. But now that neck has 35 more years on it. It seems like a good neck, it has no leaks or holes in it, so I’ll keep it a while longer.

The next time you stand and ponder your reflection, try to look at yourself with a new attitude. See laugh lines rather than wrinkles. Don’t let our world of anti-aging freak you out because we are all going to age. Period. Aging gracefully means accepting the changes time is making on your face and body.

Smile. Hold your chin up (I’ll need two hands for that part) and be proud of yourself.

Just the way you are.

My ‘Naked’ Truth

Published July 15, 2014 by mindfulofchatter

This is a re-blog from Robin Korth, an international speaker and writer. I stumbled upon this via Facebook, of all places. She says it all perfectly. What she went through with ‘Dave’ is the same thing I went through with a number of my coffee dates, and with my ex-husband. I almost cheered out loud when she told this dork-wad she would never hide her body for him or anyone else. Be proud of who you are – inside and out.

Take a read ladies and gentleman. This is for both sexes.


Naked, I stood at the closet doors with the lights on and made myself ready. I took a deep breath and positioned the mirrors so I could see all of me. I consciously worked to remove my self-believed inner image. I opened my eyes and looked very carefully at my body. And my heart lurched at the truth: I am not a young woman anymore. I am a woman well-lived. My body tells of all the years she has carried my spirit through life.

I am a 59-year-old woman in great health and in good physical shape. I stand five-feet, nine-inches tall and weigh 135 pounds. I wear a size six in both jeans and panties, and my breasts are nowhere near my navel. In fact, they still struggle to make it full-up in a B-cup bra. My thighs are no longer velvet and my buttocks have dimples. My upper arms wobble a bit and my skin shows the marks of the sun. There is a softness around my waist that is no longer perfectly taut, and the pout of my abdomen attests to a c-section that took its bikini flatness — but gave me a son.

Why this brutal scrutiny of myself? It was time to counter the damage of my culture, my own soft-held fear and to pour warm love on my own soul. It was time to claim every mark and not-perfect inch of my own body — a body that had been called “too wrinkled” by a man who was fetched by my energy and my mind, but did not like the bare truth of me. His name was Dave and he was 55 years old.

We met on a dating site. Dave was interesting, gentlemanly and bright. He held my hand and toured with me on long bicycle rides. He drove many miles to come to my door. He made meals for us both and ruffled my dog’s happy head. I was enticed and longed for the full knowing of this man. And so, we planned a weekend together. That’s when things got confusing, unspoken and just-not-quite there. We went to bed in a couple’s way — unclothed and touching — all parts near. Kisses were shared and sleep came in hugs. I attempted more intimacy throughout the weekend and was deterred each time.

On Monday evening over the phone, I asked this man who had shared my bed for three nights running why we had not made love. “Your body is too wrinkly,” he said without a pause. “I have spoiled myself over the years with young woman. I just can’t get excited with you. I love your energy and your laughter. I like your head and your heart. But, I just can’t deal with your body.”

I was stunned. The hurt would come later. I asked him slowly and carefully if he found my body hard to look at. He said yes. “So, this means seeing me naked was troublesome to you?” I asked. He told me he had just looked away. And when the lights were out, he pretended my body was younger — that I was younger. My breath came deep and full as I processed this information. My face blazed as I felt embarrassed and shamed by memories of my easy nakedness with him in days just passed.

We talked for some time more, my head reeling at the content of the conversation. He spoke of special stockings and clothing that would “hide” my years. He blithely told me he loved “little black dresses” and strappy shoes. He said my hair was not long and flowing as he preferred, but that was okay because it was “cool looking.” I felt like a Barbie Doll on acid as I listened to this man. He was totally oblivious to the viciousness of his words. He had turned me into an object to be dressed and positioned to provide satisfaction for his ideas of what female sexual perfection should be.

He explained that now that I knew what was required, we could have a great time in the bedroom. I told him no. I would not hide from my own body. I would not wear outfits to make my body more “tolerable.” I would not undress in the dark or shower with the bathroom door closed. I would not diminish myself for him — or for anyone. My body is beautiful and it goes along with my mind and my heart.

When I told Dave that I never wanted to see or hear from him again, he was confused and complained that I was making a big deal out of nothing. He whined that I had taken a small part of our relationship and made it a major event. I didn’t even want to try to explain the hurt and the horror that he had inflicted upon me. I actually felt sickly sorry for this man as I hung up the phone. It was after this call that I went to the bedroom and gently stripped off my clothes.

As I looked in the mirror — clear-eyed and brave — I claimed every inch of my body with love, honor and deep care. This body is me. She has held my soul and carried my heart for all of my days. Each wrinkle and imperfection is a badge of my living and of my giving of life. With tears in my eyes, I hugged myself close. I said thank you to God for the gift of my body and my life. And I said thank you to a sad man named Dave for reminding me of how precious it all is.

Robin Korth enjoys interactions with her readers. Feel free to contact her at or on Facebook.

To learn about her new book, “Soul on the Run,” go to:
You can also download her “Robin In Your Face” free daily motivational app by going to

Changing The Way I think.

Published April 14, 2013 by mindfulofchatter


Sometimes we all have a bit of problem with negativity. We tend to focus on the negative things in our lives, rather than the positive things we have going on. No matter how small, all those little positives add up and can be very powerful.

We live in a youth obsessed world. While getting a pedicure one day (my thing for total ‘me’ time), the TV show on the big screen was talking about Botox, or some such, treatments for your hands. Yes, you read that right. Your hands. The program was showing how you can have you hands ‘plumped up’ so they don’t show your age. Oh. My. Gosh. Now we are supposed to worry about our HANDS??!!?? Then I noticed the woman next to my instantly inspecting her hands. *insert exasperated sigh here*

I have enough ‘old lady’ things to keep me occupied without adding one more aging body part to the mix. Someone needs to shoot the guys who keep coming with ways to look ‘younger’. Next up will be feet. Or maybe earlobes.

Anyway, the world seems intent on making us all feel just awful about ourselves. We are never good enough, pretty enough or young enough to be seen outside. *snort* I challenge that.

I am now 54. It has taken me, well, 54 years to get here. I have a few wrinkles. I have laugh lines. I no longer have perfect, creamy skin (not that I ever did, but you get the idea). I am on my own (please hold the gasping down to a dull roar, thank you), and I am okay with that. Yes, I get lonely. Yes, I’d love to have an S.O. to share things with, but I don’t. So what?

What do I have?

I have a body I know well. I have lost a whole 1/2 pound this last week (yipppeee!). Yoga is paying off. I am stronger, bendier and more energized. I have a new job I love and a new boss I adore. I have my own space. It may be small (but tiny), but it’s mine. I have a few close friends who are always there for me. My kids are leading happy, healthy lives. They are good people. I can pay my bills. I have a trusty four-legged companion to keeps me moving and keeps me company when the world gets me down.

THESE are the things to concentrate on. Not the slightly sagging and wobbly bits. Not the fact that I am neither rich nor famous. Not that I am alone and Johnny Depp will not be knocking on my door begging for a date anytime soon (Well, ever. Lets be real here). And I am not even going mention my hands. They look fine to me.

So stop standing in front of your mirror putting yourself down. Let it go. Let ALL of it go. Those things you hate about yourself? Someone else would kill to have them. So stop picking yourself apart. Stop trying live up to the media blitz to be young and perfect looking forever. We are not vampires. We are not werewolves. We are ALL going to age, and die at some point. Don’t be a zombie and buy into all the crap.

Be yourself. Be happy in your skin. Celebrate all the positives in your life, no matter how little they seem.

I’m changing the way I think. I challenge you to do the same.