Examining my belly button

Going through midlife crisis is a lot like examining your own belly button. You look at your life long and hard and take inventory. Too much introspection, if you know what I mean. Much less, all you're likely to find is lint.

I always heard about people going nuts when they got in their mid-40s, 50s. I was sure I'd be above such silliness. Besides I thought midlife crisis applied mostly to men. You know, they buy a Porsche, unbutton their shirts to show off their nasty chest hair, put bling around their neck, and do other foolish things.

And, here I am doing almost the same thing. Shoot. Maybe I've been as bad. I hope not. But then there was that lapse of judgment when I squeezed into a bikini, squeezed being the operative word. I think that a midlife mom wearing a bikini is the equivalent of a midlife man wearing a speedo. It's just plain wrong, unnatural even.  See my previous blog, Losing It: Bikini Summer and the Last Hurrah: (http://jacci-clark.blogspot.com/2011/05/bikini-summerthe-last-hurrah.html .)

And I've done other crazy things. I don't know what's driving me. It's like one day you look in the mirror and say, "And, so it has come to this."  The kids are leaving, your parents are in assisted living, and you're getting this stretchy thingy under your chin.

But, even worse, you find a long, black hair sprouting out the side of your cheek at a 90-degree angle. And, you're horrified when you wonder how long it's been there. Is it some kind of mutant hybrid caused by a surge or a plummet of hormones (I never know how the hormone thing works at my age). Either way, you're beyond mortified. And, you demand from your best friend why she didn't tell you when she admits seeing it earlier that day. She says she forgot.  How do you forget something like that?! And, you tell her that if she ever, ever sees something hanging off your face again and she doesn't tell you, you'll cross her off your favorite persons' list.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, I need to get over myself. I know it's selfish not to want to get old. I think of all the older people in my life who were there for me. My Grandma O'Hara who had a soft bosom and jiggly arms. And I wouldn't have wanted her any other way. When Grandma enveloped me into those soft arms and ample chest, I felt secure and loved.

I now wonder, did Grandma ever have a midlife crisis? Did she try to get into a bikini? How come I think she didn't?

I've found the best way to get through anything is to laugh until you snort. So, that's what I've been doing. That's why I'm writing this blog. Hopefully, it will give some other midlifers a few chuckles. And, even if it doesn't, I'll have fun laughing at my own expense. And, by my last post I think I may just be done with picking the lint out of my belly button.