When the leaves start falling, a woman’s thoughts turn to … pantyhose? Well, for some of us. It’s true.
I belong to a dying breed of never-go-bare-legged women. Rare among womankind today, I wear pantyhose. Not just with formal night attire, but during the day too. Even in the summer. Even in the East when summertime humidity is swoon-worthy!
Now there are women who wear opaque tights when the outside temperature dips and wintery winds howl, but that’s not the legwear I’m talking about. There are also women who wear fishnet and other fashion-fad leg gear, but that’s not the hose in question.
What I’m referring to is the sheer, easy-to-run-and-ruin flesh-colored kind that has adorned my pasty white limbs since I aged out of knee-high socks. Read more
There comes a time in every girl’s life when she puts away her dolls and moves on to grown-up pleasures. For most girls, that comes with puberty. For me, it took a few more years. OK. It took an extra half-century.
Yes, for 50+ years, I’ve kept a massive black steamer trunk full of dolls, ostensibly saving them “for my children,” but truthfully mostly just saving them.
I’m a sentimental type, a saver. OK. I’m a bit of a bit of a hoarder. Read more
The other day, on a whim, I decided to buy myself a fancy silver necklace. I’ve never bought myself expensive jewelry before. When it came to the good stuff, the big bling-y, sparkling stuff, that arrived as gifts from parents, boyfriends, and for the past 32 years, Handsome Hubby.
But I was in the mood for instant gratification. I wanted the necklace right then and there. I didn’t feel like “hinting” and waiting for HH. I’m a big girl – more than a big girl, I’m middle-aged and – by God, I can buy my own bling!
So, faster than you can say “discretionary spending,” off I went on my mission to find that perfect piece of jewelry. What I got was something entirely different! Read more
It’s that time of year when I’m forced to schedule my annual embarrassing doctor’s appointment. You’re thinking mammogram and pap smear. But no, I suffer from another repeating ordeal, SVD, Seasonal Vanity Disorder, a hush-hush, but common mid-life ailment.
Each June, I’m forced to hot foot it to the doctor to get a prescription for prescription-strength allergy-relief medication to soothe my itchy swollen eyelids, blotchy, splotchy derma, and yes, even my hot feet!
“Ah, seasonal allergies,” you surmise and sympathize.
Well, thank you for the sympathy, but you’re wrong about what ails me. Read more
In physics, the Latin term horror vacui, nature abhors a vacuum, comes to us from Aristotle, and no, it does not refer to a fear of vacuums or cleaning!
In people-speak, the term means there are no naturally-occurring empty spaces because denser surrounding material immediately fills the void.
I’m no scientist. So, who am I to argue with Aristotle? I would, however, add an important corollary; Women also abhor vacuums.
Vacuums = Worrywarts. Let Me Explain
Whenever there’s a “vacuum” of information, a woman’s mind, much like a washing machine, starts spinning and quickly reaches the agitation cycle, coming up with all sorts of negative, awful conclusions to fill the worrisome info-void. Read more
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/clouds-3311971_1280.jpg8531280Karen Galatzhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/kg-logo.pngKaren Galatz2018-04-25 08:05:362018-10-05 11:41:35Nature Abhors a Vacuum. Worrywart Women Do Too
It’s Valentine’s Day, a day fraught with all sorts of emotion, memories, and expectations. I personally have always loved the day. It follows by three days my parents’ anniversary and the birth of my first child. My father, who was quite the romantic, made a big deal of Valentine’s Day and so, it was very special around our house when I was growing up. As a dating young miss and Ms., I received flowers, cards, candies, and other delights with the best of them. It was all fun.
And as a special bonus, 34 years ago on Valentine’s Day, I was anointed one of the “10 Most Eligible Women in the World” by United Press International (UPI), the international news agency whose newswires, photos, films, and audio services provided news to thousands of newspapers, magazines, and radio and television stations.
I know. It’s hard to believe looking at chubby, middle-aged me today, but in 1984 the news service named me to that “Most Eligible” list along with blonde bombshell Loni Anderson; Christie Hefner, Hugh’s daughter; Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones, niece of Queen Elizabeth, and Patti Davis, daughter of President and Nancy Reagan.
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/emotions-2815543_1920.jpg12801920Karen Galatzhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/kg-logo.pngKaren Galatz2018-02-14 08:01:222024-07-18 10:17:50Valentine’s Day: The Prettiest Girl in the Room …
OK. It’s true confession time. And it’s one to take the cake.
Everybody has an addiction, a guilty pleasure. Mine? Cake porn. Yes, I’m a cake … and cookie … and cupcake … and pie-aholic. I’m indiscriminate and undiscerning. If it’s baked, I’m in. I cannot get my fill of the stuff.
Some people say it’s a good idea to eat dessert first, but they’re all talk. I don’t just talk about it. I regularly dessert first, dine second.
Some people like cold pizza for breakfast, but if you ask me, nothing beats leftover chocolate birthday cake.
My obsession with cake extends way beyond ingesting the stuff, I’m a voyeur as well. Read more
My dear Middle-aged Muddlers, last week as you recall, I “documented” my struggle to combat the shame of a droopy mouth and thin lips.
In my 20s, 30s, and 40s, I used excessive amounts of lip liner, lipstick and lip gloss to compensate. I also awkwardly smiled a lot to mask the droop.
In my 50s, I “graduated” to injectable fillers. They were costly. They hurt, but they helped.
Then one day my dermatologist told me that fillers were no longer the solution. Age, genes, and gravity were winning. If I wanted a perky pout, I needed stronger medicine. I needed plastic surgery.
Specifically, I needed a corner lip lift, a tricky procedure involving incisions on each side of the mouth with no place to hide the scars. Done poorly, the procedure leaves the patient resembling Batman’s nemesis, The Joker. Having seen pictures of botched procedures, I assure you, that is no joke.
My dermatologist referred me to a plastic surgeon, one of the “pioneers” of the corner lip lift procedure. I made an appointment, canceled it and called to re-schedule. I repeated this cycle of hope and fear three more times before I ultimately met the doctor. It was time to meet my re-maker. Read more
The amazing screenwriter, journalist, and author Nora Ephron hated her sagging neck.
I hate my lips.
Nora lamented the pitfalls of maturing – aka aging –in her best-selling book, I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman. As the title suggests, she especially bemoaned her saggy, baggy neckline and her middle-aged need to camouflage the offending body part with scarves.
Well, my nemesis is my lips. However, unlike Nora, my problem isn’t solely the result of aging. It’s a lifelong curse. And unlike Nora’s scarf solution, I cannot cloak my offending feature. For decades, I have suffered in silence, but no more. Today I share my shame. Read more
Pick up a fashion magazine, any fashion magazine, any day of the week, and you’ll find all sorts of tips on how to keep your skin youthful looking, your body from aging, and your hair shiny and healthy. Sadly, however, there is one aging dilemma yet to receive widespread media attention, and that is the problem of droopy earlobes.
Do your ears hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
That’s right – droopy earlobes. It is one of those dirty little tricks Mom Nature plays on you. As you get older, your earlobes droop, and all those precious dainty button earrings you have, suddenly don’t look so cute on your now dangling, bobbing, overly-spacious lobes.
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/shutterstock_644243953-1.jpg6661000Karen Galatzhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/kg-logo.pngKaren Galatz2017-07-06 14:07:052018-06-28 17:17:50Do Your Ears Hang Low?
