The Point

One reason I write this blog is to make a point about being me. Oh, yes. There is a point. You see, I am an, um, older woman. Not so old as to have AARP on speed dial, but old enough that my offspring have offspring. (I warned them, but they insisted on having sex, so now there are kids everywhere.)

These days I share a home with my daughter, her husband, and their rugrats. I work a full-time J.O.B., and my true passion as a writer is realized whenever I choose the risky behavior of getting myself in flow (Settle down, I operate in private and wash my hands afterward). I am the grateful beneficiary of fabulous friends and family who love and support me, not to mention the hundreds of dedicated Fragrant Liar readers and followers. I'm healthy in mind and body, wealthy in vitality and spirit, and wise in experience and common sense (shut up). I'm single—okay, divorced—but in a relationship (refer to surprise FaceBook announcement). While I am unique, I am not uncommon.

Therein springs the point.

We of this day and age are redefining what it means to be in so-called midlife, propelled by necessity to think not only outside the box (not that box, Otin), but outside the bedroom (okay, maybe that box). We want to replenish, rejuvenate, and rethink where we're headed and how many peeps we're taking with us. Our new wealth of connections in cyberspace have emboldened us.

Less than a hundred years ago, our mommy/nana counterparts were on their last ovary. They were overworked, weathered, and worn out by now. If they were unmarried, they were spinsters or widows. Current midlifers have shifted the tectonic plates of tradition, as has every generation, but now the pace of change seems exponential because technology allows us to communicate on a scale we never could have realized back when we were stretching a string between two empty Alpo cans. I'd like to thank the first geeky people who came up with bloggy theorem, but I don't know any. They did this.

I am a revealer. I share with you the details that inform my life, including the entertaining and embarrassing bits—voluntarily, which does strain my credibility, I know. However, my choice of self expression says loudly that no one pigeonholes me (not that pigeonhole, Otin). I speak candidly here because I am "out there," unafraid and unapologetic. (Mostly.) Judge all you want, people.

See, women of my day and age don't wait in rockers with curlers in their hair for the young'ns to visit anymore—although I am in the market for a recliner with a convenient holder for snackage and drinkage and garbage so I don't have to miss a moment of my fave shows.* And kiddos? Call first, will ya? No, we modern midlifers move and shake, even if solely for our own benefit. We seek purpose and fulfillment. We value quality of life and the chance to keep learning and growing. We revel in camaraderie and acceptance of who we are. We choose to not be invisible. We demand that our voices matter.

And that's the point.
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*If I didn't want to get out and have fun so much, I might invent a pleasant catheter experience so my feet never had to hit the floor. Oh, and have you seen the recliner that pops you upright with the press of a button? One second you're in repose, then BOING! you're dancing with Gilles! That one's got my name on it.
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