Let Me Be Clear

I’m tired today. I’m tired and I’m cranky. I’m pissed because – for the first time in my life – I bought “age defying” makeup yesterday. I guess it goes with the territory when you are 41, but lately I’ve been noticing the lines, the fact that I always look tired, the aging. And let me be clear. I don’t like it. I knew, even in my 20’s, that I would be one of those women who probably went kicking and screaming into middle age and well - here we are. Granted, I am not in a position to run out and get Botox (although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't pondered the idea) but it seems my aging is just hitting me in the face, no pun intended, no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

I have been sending my resume out to jobs that sound like a great fit and I either don't hear back or am flat out rejected. i.e. a recent job I submitted my resume to...

Experience: Prior experience with business functions in an office environment, strongly desired. Sufficient operating experience with computer systems, special management methods, and facilitating access to and efficient processing of assignments in word-processing and spreadsheet programs. Prior experience with professional office functions including proofreading and editing executive correspondence, desktop publishing and graphics programs, and conducting meetings is desired.”

Hello? That’s me. That’s what I do. That’s what I’ve been doing for over 10 years. But I cannot even spark enough interest for an initial interview. “At this time we want to inform you that you have not been selected for this position” is what I received via email. It makes me want to cry.

I can handle the rejection when I know it’s a job that is out of my comfort zone or would be a stretch (anything accounting heavy) but when the job seems to fit so well, I can’t help but take it ever so personally. The only hiring managers that seem interested in me have been those in the civil service sector, which is great, except that those jobs are extremely rare right now.

I am pissed (and hurt) that my company may let me (their first full time employee) go after 13 years of employment, just like that. I feel like an afterthought. I try not to take it personally, but think back to a time when I was young and cute and how much simpler all this career stuff seemed. It seemed like I had forever to decide what direction I wanted to go and the sky was the limit. Now, I’m not seen as being as focused, driven or ambitious because, quite frankly, how could I be as someone with 3 small children who works a reduced work week? It is what it is, but it still pisses me off.

I know that 50% of this deafeningly silent response is the job market right now, but that leaves 50% of it with me, my job history (which I always thought was great) and too much experience. I have been reading some forums for Executive Assistants and Office Managers seeking jobs and boy, that's enough for me to want to just go jump off a bridge. Seasoned people, looking for months with no results, having to move in with their grown children. The market response seems pretty universal, if you are older than 28, that is. Employers want some experience, but not too much. They want to be able to mold you and I guess if you’ve been at a job for a significant amount of time, it’s pretty obvious you are over 30 and possibly not as moldable. I always thought longevity was a good thing, but now I’m seeing that at some point, it becomes a liability.

I thinking of reworking my resume, yet again and possibly having a professional look at it. I’m not sure what else I can do.

/self absorbed rant.

This was way longer than I anticipated. I realize I sound like a cranky, old broad. In fact, this post was supposed to be a lighthearted post about buying makeup, but obviously it went in another direction.

I’ll get over it. Lost is on tonight, so I can't really stay in a bad mood.

Way Back Wednesday -- When Mommy was Skinny

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Dateline: December 1998
Place: Office Christmas party at a local restaurant


In light of my apparent complete non interest in Weight Watchers the last few weeks, I thought it was time to bust out with some pics to inspire me, motivate me. Hence, the skinny, twentysomething, single Melissa shot.

I thought I was so bad ass here, with my black tights, black mini, festive cardigan and (out of shot) Kate Spade bag. Good times.

What The Hoo Ha?

Ok, I wasn't going to say anything, but in the last 2 days I have:

- Received an email offering me a special deal if I join AARP.

- Received a "Special Invitation" (What? Really? Me? Wait a minute!!) card from Sears Hearing Aid Department, inviting me for a free exam, touting Miracle Ear - A Major Breakthrough in hearing Technology.

The logical sequence of events would be for me to next receive an offer for female viagra.

I also receive lots of emails from the Brain Tumor Society, but I don't usually freak out about that. (It's what you get for Doctor Googling)

I'm not sure what list I'm on or how I landed on it, but I am not liking it one.single.bit!

Have they not heard that 40 is the new 30?

I Need Some Motivation

I don't know what is wrong with me.

I used to be able to lose weight. I lost 80 lbs in 1989 and kept it off for 13 years. I knew about discipline and hard work. I knew about getting up at 5 a.m. to work out, every single day. I knew how to go walk for an hour, even in the rain, because, quite frankly, I knew it was the main thing keeping the weight off and staying thin was so vital to my physical and emotional well-being, I was willing to do whatever it took.

I gained a little bit when I met Steve. Nothing too major, just the standard 15 lb cushion one gains when they are in a safe, comfortable relationship. The workouts went from 2 hrs a day, 6 days a week to a half hour every 3-4 days. We were eating out a lot, sleeping in, traveling, doing what you do.

Then, we got engaged. I joined Weight Watchers and started counting points like a madwoman. I had 9 months to look good in a wedding dress and I was driven. When we went shopping for dresses, I was adamant that I was going to lose at least 40 lbs by the wedding, so we had to keep that in mind. The salespeople's eyes rolled so far back in their head they practically tipped over. I'm sure they hear that from every bride. But I wasn't just any bride. I'm a Taurus, after all. So, they somehow got the fear of god into me and I ordered a dress in a very large size. Fast forward 6 months and I'd lost the 40 lbs. Every time I went for a fitting, they had to keep taking the dress in. The reality was, it had started out so big, no amount of tailoring was going to make it fit right. But I lost the weight and felt GREAT and had an amazing wedding. We went to Hawaii and I was tan and thin and happy.

...And then I started on the whole TTC roller coaster. 3 kids in 2 years does not lend itself to a flat tummy, not that I ever had one to begin with. I started my twin pregnancy already over 200 lbs. I didn't gain an ungodly amount of weight with them (about 30) but I've had a difficult time getting this weight off. When I was hospitalized with pneumonia (1 month post partum with the twins) I lost about 20 lbs in 10 days and was down to the lowest weight I'd been in 5 years. Then, I came home and started to feel better, but was so stressed out that I turned to eating again & gained it back in a few months. And there was no time or motivation to work out. I was in survival mode. I am still in survival mode.

But honestly, here I sit, probably 60 lbs overweight (more if you go by the "charts") and I can't seem to get it off. Not that I've been killing myself trying, but I haven't been eating that much, I've been going for the occasional walk. It's just not happening. I have this permanent 20 week pregnant belly that has become like another limb. I know people think I'm pregnant all the time, I can see it in their eyes. "Is she pregnant again?"

The final nail in the coffin? At the bridal shower on Friday, someone came in who I hadn't seen in a while. She asked who the shower was for, then got the "Awwwww" look on her face and started moving in for a hug. I was mortified. I laughed it off, but boy, nothing like someone actually trying to congratulate you on your pregnancy to light a fire under your ass.

I'm considering buying a treadmill as we have room in the garage and the rain is going to start soon. I have to do something. I see photos of myself and I'm like "Who the hell is that fat chick?"

Maybe looking at my wedding photo will inspire me. I'm just waiting for Sofia to say "Who is that lady with Daddy?"

Pancakes and Neuroses

Words cannot describe what a wreck I have been for the past 10 days.

Not to be dramatic or anything, but 10 days ago I went for my screening mammogram and have been an absolute, neurotic mess since then.

The boob squooshing was bad enough. Honestly, boobs weren’t meant to be flattened like a pancake. My boobs have grown considerably (along with the rest of my girth) since I had my first mammogram (diagnostic – age 29 – false alarm) and second baseline mammogram (age 38), so you would think that would make the procedure easier, but it seemed to hurt more. I have to wonder how they do this procedure on women with small breasts? Seriously, how do they manipulate the small breast that’s high on the chest into that god awful contraption? I guess this is where it comes in handy to have big, saggy boobs, getting saggier every day.

As we finished up and the technician and I exchanged pleasantries, she handed me a piece of paper and told me I could expect my results within 30 days. 30 DAYS? I exclaimed bordering on hysteria. “You can’t be serious.”

She looked a bit pained as she raised her eyebrows and said “They’re really busy upstairs.”

The voice inside my head screamed, “Well, get them on the horn and let’s put a rush on mine, you can code it NEUROTIC FREAK for all I care!!” This thing is digital now, I assumed that would speed things up. Apparently not. I guess coming in October, Breast Cancer Awareness month, wouldn’t lend itself to speedy results.

I think the woman saw how distraught I was by this nugget of info, so as I left, she whispered sheepishly, “I…I think it’s more like 10 days…”

So, that night, I drove home, swearing to myself on how ridiculous it was that it would take a month to get back results and obsessing on how I was going to get through the next month without having a nervous breakdown. Kind of hard to forget about it when you are prone to hypochondria (that's right - I own it) and it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month. Pink items everywhere. Grocery checkers asking if you’d like to donate. Huge spreads in magazines about celebrities who are survivors (which helped immensely, actually).

I don’t mean to be dramatic, but I’ve been so distracted by all of it. Do I have risk factors for breast cancer? Not really. I’m 40 and overweight, but no family history and minimal birth control pill usage (scant evidence of connection there). Still.

“Negative,” was what I heard this morning. Long pause. “That’s a good report, “ the lady added.

A more beautiful word has never been uttered. Have I mentioned how much I don't enjoy being 40????

That's not to say that I don't think everyone shouldn't go out and get screened. If you are over 40, you should most definitely get screened. If you have a family history, you should try to get tested for the gene mutations and start screening early. No question. But unless this is CSI and we're doing harcore DNA testing, a person should not have to wait more than 48 hours for test results of any kind. It's just cruel. (Diagnostic results are immediate, for the record)

Secrets

I did something kind of major today, something I've been wanting to do for some time.

I emailed my cousin and asked if she would give me her mother's email (my aunt, my mother's sister). I've been thinking of my mother a lot lately, as I examine the mother/daughter relationship between Sofia and I. It dawned on me that this woman is the only connection I have to my mom at this point. I'm hoping she can tell me more about my mother's childhood, memories, etc.

Backstory...

My mom came from a prominent Bay Area family...she was schizophrenic and a drug addict (to self medicate, no doubt) and my parents divorced when I was 3 months old. She abused both my brother and I and we were taken away from her on my 3rd birthday. We were wards of the court until I was about 11 (with my grandmother having physical custody) and then my dad received custody, but we stilled live with grandma (sometimes dad moved in for a bit).

I hadn't seen my mother since I was 6 when she moved to Hawaii. She mothered 3 other children who were also taken away from her. They are out there somewhere. She died a few years ago, homeless in a bus station in Hawaii...

Heavy, I know.

I know it sounds harsh, but she was like nothing to me, like a biological mother of an adoptee. I know nothing about her, other than letters (both that she sent to my brother and I as kids and letters we found to my dad after he died) and that she liked to write and was artistic. Her family was pretty f'ed up and basically embaressed by her illness, so that is why they shipped her off to Hawaii. They supported her financially but wanted her far, far away.

My aunt and I have never been close, but I did see her a few years ago and I think this is a positive thing.

Cranky Monday

So, my little luncheon for a friend went quite well yesterday, thanks to the lovely people at Whole Foods and Trader Joe's. (I did make the green salad, so there) Despite the loveliness of the day (Steve took the boys out for the day, Sofia joined in the festivities), I am way cranky today.

There are a cornucopia of reasons for my crank mood.

1. David cries every day when I leave to go to work. I am torn up with guilt about this, about working at all. I feel like the time with them is so brief, I should be with them more. Then, I think about all the doom and gloom projected for the economy and I realize I had better to hold on to my good job while I have it and stop whining about what will never be.

2. I am overwhelmed with the doom and gloom talk on the radio, news, everywhere you look. People have started to use the "D" word and it's left me wondering what the future holds for me and my family. My husband has to attend a "dinner" in San Francisco Thursday night with the rep from the Central Valley and I'm a bit anxious what that is about.

3. I have recently started to realize that I may have 3 kids in pre-school at the same time. I have to laugh at Steve's friends with older kids, complaining about the cost of private school or college. HAH!! Try 3 kids in pre-school at the same time in the Bay Area. I then beat myself up about how I'll afford it, will it mean the boys go to PS later (2010 when Sofia is in kindergarten) or not at all? More guilt...I have been researching schools closer to where we currently live and they are a little less expensive. I'm getting them on wait lists as this is typically an 18 month process here. Again, such problems, right?

4. I am premenstrual to the fifty millionth power. As time goes by, my periods are getting so incredibly horrible, I am thinking I must be going through some complex, hormonal change. My body aches, especially in my lady parts and I'm just a bitch on wheels. Part of me wonders if I am peri-menopausal. This depresses me beyond belief.

5. Things are so slow here at the office, I am quite sure we'll lose staff by the end of the year. I've been here since the dawn of time, so I'm fairly certain I'll still have a job (as long as there is still a company) but if we have less staff, this will mean I may need to be here more and if you scroll up to #1, you'll see that I already wish I could work < the 30 hours that I do. So, this is a concern.

I think that about covers it for the time being. I'm trying to remind myself that I have so much to be thankful for and stop trying to catastrophize every little thing. It's a process.

Smells Like Teen's Parents

Busy weekend. Our 5th anniversary, Steve's 30th high school reunion and a 70th birthday party for one of Sofia's pseudo grandmas.

I remember back when I was wild-single-girl-Melissa, at the height of my kinship with all things Bridget Jones and Carrie Bradshaw, there were people described in "Bridge Jones Diary" as the Smug Marrieds. These were the people who were so happily married and didn't let you forget for a minute how much better their lives were from yours and Ohhhhhhow they didn't miss being single. This weekend, I was inundated with the Smug Teen's Parents. So happy to be past diapers and bottles and boy, don't envy you ONE bit! I get a lot of this at work from my co-workers, but between the reunion (where everyone was in their late 40's) and the party I attended yesterday (40's, 50's, 60's) I was just hitting the wall on the Smug Teen's Parent Contingent.

The reunion was fun, but the shock value of the fact that we have the youngest kids of all Steve's contemporaries got old after about the 15th time of "HOW OLD ARE YOUR KIDS???" Most of the attendees have college/high school age children, so upon hearing that we had little ones, the immediate reaction was universal; the huge eye bulge and near choking on their appetizer, followed by excited slaps on the back, immediately followed by the elbow in the rib and cries of "Oh, I don't envy you!!" or "You sure have your hands full!" (Ya think?) The whole scenario was finished off with tales of how much harder it will be when they get to high school. I was describing the boys' love of climbing the furniture and immediately told "Oh, that's the EASY part! Wait until you have multiples activities to drive them to, homework and attitudes!" I know what they are saying is true, but it's kind of of like saying to a pregnant woman "Oh wait until the baby is born!! You think this is hard? HA! Wait until your nipples are bleeding and you're counting sleep in minutes rather than hours!! That's when the fun really begins!" You don't have any concept of reality for the future challenges, so why do people insist on throwing them at you like cold water?

It costs a lot to have young hair

So I decided a few weeks ago that I needed to go back to some semblance of blonde. I was born, natural color is dirty blonde, but I have played with some version of blonde since age 13 (from Sun-In to Frost and Tip and full head bleach) and colored it auburn last October in an attempt to try a change, something easier to maintain.

I loved it at first, but I noticed that much of my grey was showing, whereas before it hadn't been. Ignorance is bliss...So yesterday, I visited my shi-shi salon and spent $230 to get highlights, lowlights and cut. It's not really blonde, but sort of reddish with blondish highlights, which is what I expected. It's going to be a process and next time, I'll be more blonde and so on. Of course, when I asked Sofia if she liked it, she said "Yes!" When I asked her what color it was, she said "Orange." Not exactly the answer I was looking for.

The worst part was my stylist insinuating that the darker hair made me look older. *Gulp* I was like, "Get me back to blonde, pronto!!" That was the first time someone even mentioned anything in relation to my looks and age and it was not a nice feeling. Oh wait, I take that back. A few weeks ago, Dianna's sister (who works in a natural food store) gave me some moisturizer she recommends. I take it that was also a little sign.

But I digress...back at the salon, I watched one of their master cutters working on a cut, the severe A line bob where it's much longer in the front and stacked in the back with fascination. I was never great at cutting and marvel at those who are. Color and finished style was my thing. I have contemplated getting that cut several times in the last few months and am still thinking about it. I guess I am worried that I'm too fat to pull off that cut, but then I see stylish overweight women with it and looking pretty cute. I don't know, we'll see if I have the nerve.

Now that I have a more sunny look, I feel totally pale. I used some self tanner and am taking a moment to sit in the sun right now (skin damage be damned). Clothes are drying, banana muffins just taken out of the oven, Sofia at swim lessons and the boys sleeping...Good times.

Middle age

Sign #1 that Botox is in my near future.

I was playing with Sofia the other day. Actually, attempting to get her to nap while simultaneously napping myself.

We're making each other laugh, being playful, etc. I scrunch up my face and pretend to cry, which always sends her into fits of hysterical laughter. "Don't cry, mommy," she typically says, consoling me by patting my arm slowly.

Not this time. This time, she said "Mommy? Why is your forehead look goofy?"

***

It's no secret that I turned 40 this year and have been disturbed to discover grey hair sprouting up all over my head. Now, this may be due to my recent color change to auburn (the greys are more visible now) or it could be due to age, having 3 under 3 or a combination of all of it. Any way you slice it, I don't like it. Nope. Not one bit.

In an act of sheer vanity, I have decided to go back to being blonde. I have an appt for 3 weeks from now. I suspect the highlights hid my grey, and that's just the way I like it. Ignorance is bliss...

Baggers and Texters

Now that I've turned 40...(yes, happened last week. Did some partying. Saw a band, drank too much. Was fun. But I digress....) I feel that I can be cranky old broad. Here goes...

Ok, so a couple of things I need to get off my chest. WHY THE HELL DO BAGGERS CLEARLY NOT RECEIVE ANY TRAINING? I don't understand, baggers used to know how to bag. Now, they don't seem to have a clue and it DRIVES.ME.NUTS. I mean, it really, really bugs. They put all the heaviest stuff together, my bags break, soaps and cleaners in with food, mix dry goods and not dry goods, I could go on. I mean, COME ON PEOPLE. At the risk of sounding like a control freak, I would prefer to bag myself. I can't tell you how many times my bags have broken. All the more reason to go to Trader Joe's where they have paper bags with handles. Then again, I've had a few bags overstuffed there as well. It seems to be universal.

My other big pet peeve is when my DH puts items (paper towels, coffee, etc.) on the highest shelves in the kitchen, which I'd estimate to be about 6.5 feet up. There is no way I can reach these and god knows, every second counts in my day. I don't have time to go find a stepping stool. I just think him being tall and all, he just doesn't stop to consider the fact that he's married to a woman who's 5 3" with short arms.

Ok, so my final peeve. The lack of customer service out there is astonishing. My experience yesterday at Best Buy was no exception. I wasn't expecting much, but I've had better experiences there. First of all, I had to approach 3 salesmen to help me when there was no one in the store. I could barely understand the guy as he mumbled things to me. He didn't explain things well and was answering his own cell phone ("yeah? what's up? working" was the conversation I had the joy to listen to) while waiting on me. I was ready to walk out, but at that point, was so invested in the whole thing, didn't have the energy. The best part was when I was changing my plan and he asked me if I text much. (I know it's generational, but I just don't get the texting thing. Email yes. PMing, yet. Texting? Notsomuch. )

I could tell by the look on his face that he already knew the answer. You poor, clueless old broad was all over his face. He was talking in terms of 100's of texts per month and I answered about 2 per month. Guess I won't be needing the "unlimited texting" package.

That single moment made me feel older than anything I've experienced thus far.