I'm thrilled today to introduce you to my next Super Summer Guest writer! Please welcome Jill Robbins, the voice behind the awesome blog, Ripped Jeans and Bifocals. I absolutely love her spin on entering the midwife years. There's some really good info here for all the young "whippersnappers" cresting that hill toward middle age. Word of warning: You can dig your heels in and protest loudly, but either way, you'll be slipping down the other side of that slope sooner than you think.
Please welcome Jill to Meno Mama's site today with lots of shares and comment love. Thank you!
CHIN HAIRS, POISE PADS AND THE FUN OF FORTY-SOMETHING
When I was twenty, I didn’t spend much time thinking about what it would be like to be…well…old. My forties and fifties seemed like they were a helluva long way off…mostly because they were. If I’d have stopped to think about what midlife would look like, I’d probably imagine myself wearing polyester stretch pants, pantyhose with reinforced toes and that thing you wear around your neck where you push a button that alerts 911 if you “fall and can’t get up.” And sensible shoes. Lots of sensible shoes.
I’m happy to report most of my trousers still zip (they have zippers, anyway). I haven’t needed the emergency buzzer, the clapper or the grabber, although I do appreciate the value of a good pair of support hose. Even though my actual midlife experience isn’t what twenty year old me might have envisioned, I still have some fun, semi-depressing facts about midlife I’d like to share with young women everywhere.
Pay attention, bitches…I’m trying to scare the snot out of you. Why? Do I really need a reason, beyond that it’s fun?
Comfort: your underwear’s most important feature.
I’m not saying there’s no place in your life and lingerie drawer for sassy, sexy bloomers but comfort is the front runner. Support is a close second. I might still let my freak flag fly on occasion but I’m past the point where I’ll worry if hubs sees me in sensible undies. It is what it is. Thong on for now, but your time is coming. Trust me.
Dark hair sprouts randomly on your face and body.
I don’t care if your God-given hair color is platinum blonde. Stray hairs are black and crinkly (kind of like pubes.) Always. It’s a rule or something. Most often sighted on chins, these little suckers can sneak up in other regions.
I have one that appears out of freaking nowhere on my neck. One day it’s not there, the next it’s gently blowing in the breeze. A male coworker once mistook it for string. Joke was on him, it was attached. And yes, he was a hottie because the laws of the universe say that if a male must point out something unflattering, embarrassing or gross about your appearance, he must be attractive so that you can be as mortified as humanly possible.
PSA: rearview mirrors in natural light are optimum for spotting rogue hairs, so tuck a pair of tweezers in your glove box. Obviously, hair reconnaissance missions should happen when the car is not moving. Safety first, ladies. And, plucking while stopped at a light is trashy. Just don’t.
And…I could continue with a detailed description of boob hair, but I’ll just leave it there and smile, imagining the panic that little teaser may cause.
Ever-present fear of sneeze-pee fusion.
If you’ve given birth, you might remember this one fondly. If you’ve never experienced pregnancy, you’re in for a treat, my sisters. Allow me to spell it out: a sneeze, cough or even a good laugh will make you pee your pants. You never know when your bladder will fail you. You’ll remember all the times you snickered at old ladies trying to discreetly toss Poise pads in their shopping cart. You’ll wonder if the sneeze-pee fusion is karmic ass-biting payback. The answer is yes.
Your high school anthem is a classic.
There is something depressing about hearing the tunes you took your bra off to in the backseat is now considered classic rock. I’m bracing myself for the day some punk-ass fourteen year old deejay refers to anything sung by Pat Benatar as an oldie. It’ll happen. And, part of me will die a little bit.
While I might need comfier underwear and more alone time with my tweezers, life at midlife is no pity party. I (usually) have enough energy to run after my kids, run a 5K and on a good day, run circles around my younger friends. Sometimes guys still check me out. They might be trying to decide if I need help crossing the street, but hey, let me have my fantasies, m’kay?
Most of my girlfriends in their forties and fifties list sexier sex and more wisdom as perks of being this age. I think it’s down to more confidence and just no longer giving a crap what other people think.
It will happen to you, too. Katy Perry or maybe even Justin Beiber will be on the classic rock station. You will pick up that multi-pack of cotton undies and say “hmmm, these look nice and comfy.” Wait and see. For now, better stock up on those Poise pads…and be careful when you sneeze. You just never know…
Jill writes about adoption, motherhood and midlife on her blog, Ripped Jeans and Bifocals. She's a regular contributor for Babble, Blunt Moms and the Huffington Post. Her writing has also been featured on Scary Mommy, In the Powder Room and in the Washington Post. She's a Listen to Your Mother Austin alumni and was named a BlogHer Voice of the Year for 2015. She drinks a lot of coffee.
***You can catch more MENO MAMA this week on Bluntmoms and Better After Fifty where my post, "The In-Laws From Hell" was featured this week!! You can also find me on Vibrant Nation where I'm discussing the ten reasons why I love menopause!
We all have that friend who loves to laugh but makes a mad dash to the bathroom the minute
the giggles start. The same thing happens when she coughs or jogs beside you at the park.
Did you know that one in three women over the age of 18 experience involuntary bladder leakage at some point in their lifetime? Although it's common, it's not normal.
Urinary incontinence affects close to 18 million women, but many are too embarrassed to discuss their problem----they prefer to cover it up by wearing bulky pads or adult diapers. Most women assume that bladder leakage is just a natural consequence of childbirth, menopause, and aging, and they mistakenly believe that their problem is untreatable.
Medical experts are quick to recommend Kegel exercises as a first-line treatment for pelvic floor muscle strengthening. Unfortunately, statistics show that 50% of women are unsuccessful with their Kegel exercises, since it's mostly based on written or verbal instructions that are easily forgotten----especially during the busy weeks after childbirth.
The good news is that there is now an FDA-approved system that offers a new option to strengthen and tone the pelvic floor muscles. The PeriCoach System is designed for women with stress, mild-to-moderate urge and mixed urinary continence. It contains a device with three biosensors and comes with a smartphone app to help patients perform pelvic floor muscle training in the privacy of their homes. The device is inserted into the vagina and the biosensors detect the strength of each muscle contraction. The results are then sent immediately to a smartphone over a Bluetooth wireless connection. How innovative is that?!
PeriCoach is the only system available with this type of advanced technology that includes a web portal allowing clinicians and pelvic health specialists to monitor their patients' progress. The app collects and analyzes data in addition to sending out reminders to the patient to use the system----as well as a reminder to forward the data to their physician. It takes the guesswork out of tracking the progress of pelvic muscle development.
The PeriCoach System is recommended by the American College of Physicians as a first-time treatment for urinary incontinence and was cleared by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration in March 2015. It is now available by prescription from a clinician, nurse or physical therapist. For more information or to order PeriCoach directly, please visit www.PeriCoach.com (use uploaded prescription when ordering).
It's time to throw away those bulky adult diapers and treat urinary incontinence with the PeriCoach System TODAY!
Limited is a Brisbane-based public company (ASX Code: ALT)
specializing in the development of innovative technology-based
solutions for unmet medical needs, manufactures and markets the
PeriCoach System. For
more information, visit www.AnalyticaMedical.com
Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today 13 bloggers are bravely opening their doors to you so that you can be a fly on the wall in their homes.
I'm enjoying a relaxing summer with my family despite the heat, humidity and mosquitoes. We've been spending a lot of time at the beach in the evenings where I go all "Martha Stewart" and set up a special place for us to picnic. Yes, I actually have a chandelier that hangs from my little tent along with strings of Chinese lanterns and solar lights. We play corn hole and frisbee by sunset and it is at these times that I feel truly blessed to claim this wacky tribe as my family.
If you were a fly on the wall at our house (or at one of our beach picnics) this month, this is what you would have overheard:
"I ate too much pasta salad at the picnic tonight. I feel like I'm birthing a noodle baby."
"This website that wants to feature one of my blog posts just asked for a photo of me in my natural habitat. That means I need to send them a picture of me with a drink in my hand."
"My armpits stink so bad after being at the beach all day. They smell like sour cream and onion chips."
"I think I missed my calling in life. I could have been a competitive hotdog eater."
"Which is why you've earned the nickname, 'Beefy McSexy.'"
"I've got jello shits from the jello shots we took at the 4th of July party. Everything is coming out like a rainbow."
"Stop rolling over in bed the same time that I roll over."
"I can't help it if we sleep like synchronized swimmers."
"Some mistakes are just too fun to only make once!"
"He wants everyone to party with him every night, but he's the lone wolf when it comes to drinking shots of whiskey."
" I just found an interesting job on the internet. It calls for experience in transitioning cows, replacement heifer programming and experience in milking parlor management. I could be a dairy farmer herdsman!"
"The only thing you know how to herd are the pugs when you hustle them outside to pee."
"I don't like this new toilet paper. It's too rough, don't you think?"
"You're talking to a girl who had to wipe her backside with leaves in the Black Forest at one time, so don't ask me about texture."
"You're so A.D.D. you need to Google search for stuff in our house."
"The true definition of hell is the waiting room at the Sears automotive repair center where there's only a crappy TV and a stack of outdated car magazines."
That's pretty much a recap of my summer so far. As always, I'm living the Looney Tune life. Now go check out all the other brave ladies who are participating in today's Fly posts!
***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? I'm beyond thrilled to be featured this week on Honest Mom. I'm part of the "Speak Out" essay section with my post on "The Truth About Depression." You can read it HERE:
For the past year, I've had trouble sleeping through the night. Either my bladder decides it's time to wake up every few hours or Mr. Insomnia wants me to stay awake a little longer to think about all the things I need to do tomorrow. But lately, something else has been disturbing my sleep. I wake up several times at night, my hair matted to my face and the bedsheets sticking to my skin like a damp rag. This prompts me to turn down the thermostat and crank up the ceiling fan until I'm shivering and forced to burrow under the covers. This annoying cycle repeats itself several times during the night and prevents me from getting the sleep my body craves.
It should come as no surprise that when the DermaTherapy company approached me and asked if I'd be interested in trying out their product, I jumped at the chance to sleep on bedsheets created specifically to combat night sweats. After numerous tests and clinical trials, the DermaTherapy sheets have been proven to provide a comfortable sleeping surface that offers relief from the symptoms of night sweats for both menopausal women AND anyone suffering from excessive sweating due to a condition known as hyperhidrosis.
My bedding arrived a week after I signed up to test the product and I couldn't wait to try it out! The package included one flat sheet, one fitted sheet (which slipped easily over the mattress corners), and two pillow cases, all machine washable (but no dry cleaning, fabric softeners or dryer sheets).
I have to tell you folks, ever since I've been using the DermaTherapy sheets, I'm getting the best sleep I've had in a long time. This company makes the only therapeutic bedding on the market, and it differs from regular bedding because it's drier, cleaner and smoother to sleep on. The nice thing about the DermaTherapy sheets is that they have three to five times the lifespan of traditional bedding, which means that they do not fray, lint, or shrink after being laundered numerous times. One of the problems I've always had with cotton and poly-cotton sheets is that over time, the fabric becomes rough with "pills" (the protruding fibers that create friction and cause irritation) and this makes my sleep uncomfortable. The DermaTherapy sheets are woven with long, continuous strands that minimize abrasion, making them extremely soft and smooth to sleep on.
One of the main reasons the DermaTherapy sheets are perfect for women suffering from night sweats and hot flashes is that the bedding is made with a drier fabric which is the result of a unique technology that wicks moisture away from the skin. This in turn helps to regulate body temperature. The wetness that comes from night sweats is reduced and keeps the skin drier and more comfortable while sleeping. The bedding also maintains its freshness by eliminating odors caused by germs and harmful bacteria. DermaTherapy's revolutionary fabric has been specially engineered with antimicrobial and soil treatments to keep the sheets cleaner and easier to wash.
Now that I have the DermaTherapy bedding, I cannot imagine sleeping on anything else. The luxurious texture of the sheets offers a softness and silkiness that feels cool against my skin----something I desperately need while in the throes of a hot flash. These remarkable sheets have enhanced my sleeping experience, and I highly recommend them to anyone who has trouble sleeping due to any type of night sweats. Do yourself a favor and order a set of this special bedding today so that you can regain a good night's rest!
When you marry your significant other,
there should be something written in the vows about inheriting family
baggage. Before the ink is dry on the marriage certificate, some
in-laws morph into outlaws who rob you of your newlywed bliss. Like
an emotional black hole, these people are notorious for sucking the
joy out of every family gathering. Holidays and celebrations bring
out their worst side, causing everyone to drink more and spend an
inordinate amount of time in the bathroom.
Family dynamics change once the
in-laws drop their dysfunctional baggage at your doorstep. Although
there are plenty of instances of close relationships between in-laws,
more often than not there's one who loves to stir the pot and share
their cup of misery.
You know you have a problem if one
of your in-laws falls into any of the following categories:
The Attention Seeker:
Everything in their life is far
more stressful (and important) than yours. They work longer hours,
have busier schedules and no time to relax. Warning: If you are a
stay-at-home-mom, this type of in-law believes you do nothing all day
but watch trashy talk shows and eat bonbons in-between naps.
The Drama Queen:
These people thrive on family
drama. They're usually unhappy, insecure, pushy people who enjoy
dragging you down their emotional rabbit hole. Grab a chair, because
whatever stunt they pull at the next family function is sure to rival
any episode of The Real Housewives Of New Jersey.
The Overbearing Matriarch:
This MIL or FIL feels that their
precious offspring could have married someone better. Your
housekeeping and parenting skills will never measure up to their
royal standards. You and your kin will always be considered surfs in
their kingdom. Don't bother polishing any crowns because chances are
you'll never wear one.
These parasitic in-laws are worse
than any flu bug that could inhabit your intestines. They suffer from
diarrhea of the mouth and love to watch the shit hit the fan when
they talk crap about you to vulnerable family members easily
manipulated by their crock of dung. Poo Pourri will never be
necessary for these people because they're convinced their shit
Like a territorial alley cat, this
in-law treats you like an intruder and feels they can best you at
anything. They turn everything into a competition, making sure you're
aware they live in a better neighborhood, own a larger home, drive
the most expensive vehicle and have perfect children with IQ's off
the charts. They brag about salaries, vacations, new wardrobes,
weight loss and their child's latest report card. While they're busy
reminding you how beautiful and special they are, just remember
they're doing their best to mask the insecurities that fester inside
In the old wild west, they used to
shoot outlaws. In today's society, the only ammo you have is
patience, understanding and forgiveness.
I vote we step back in time.
***This article originally appeared on In The Powder Room and can also be found in my humor book, WHO STOLE MY SPANDEX?***
My guest today for my super summer blogging series is one of the FUNNIEST writers in the blogosphere (and I am honored that she just so happens to be one of my best blogging buddies, too!). Please welcome Linda Roy of Elleroy Was Here!! She truly is my sista from another mista. A lover of all things pug-related and an incredibly talented mixologist, she is a woman after my own heart. We've been chatting online for quite some time now and sharing far too many laughs over the quirky things in life that we both find hilarious. We "get" one another, and that was never more evident than when we finally met at the ERMA conference last year. This was the first writing workshop I had ever attended, and I'll admit, I was a nervous wreck. Along came Linda, and she graciously took me under her wing. We were pretty much inseparable during the trip, and I cannot thank her enough for sharing her wisdom, humor and friendship with me. Whenever I visit her blog site, I know I'm going to be laughing out loud within seconds because she uses such inventive language (and some of the best blog titles I've ever read!!).
I'm thrilled to share one of my favorite blogs from Linda's site with you today. Please welcome my dear friend with lots of comment love and shares. **For more giggles, you REALLY should subscribe to her blog and follow her on social media for your daily dose of laughter! **Links are below**
I See Old People
Wait a minute. What's this kid gassing on about? Old people? I thought it was dead people.
Is old the new dead?
You know, if I were Bruce Willis, (which by the way, if I could actually be any movie actor, he'd be tied for last place with Bill Bob Thornton) but if I were, I'd be asking this kid a slew of questions to get to the bottom of why specifically, he thinks he's seeing old people.
Tfile://localhost/Users/marciadoyle/Desktop/I-SEE-OLD-PEOPLE-.jpeghe little punk.
I know, I sound bent about this. Truth is, I'm menopausal and just a tad offended. Maybe he's just talking about the over 60 crowd. But I get more and more touchy about the subject the closer I get to 50, and it's looming. Believe me, I can feel it encroaching like arthritis on a precipitous day.
Little Haley Joel Osment was a cutie pie, wasn't he? Now he's a man for chrissakes, with facial hair. When did that happen?
Oh my God. I'm old.
So. You think you see old people, Haley? What gives? Tell us why.
I channeled my inner Willis and psychically queried man-Haley. Here's what he psychically told me.
1. They're driving at 10 miles below the speed limit with the blinker on. The whole time.
2. A conspicuous trail of bingo cards.
3. Ticket stubs from a Celine Dion show at Caesar's Palace.
4. A Golden Girls VHS tape.
5. A framed Thomas Kincaid print.
6. Saw them having hot coffee with lunch.
7. The crowded early bird seating at Lobster Shanty.
8. A pile of Readers Digests, pages dog eared on articles about the actual existence of angels.
9. A bookshelf full of John Grisham novels.
10. A bowl of Werther's Originals.
Thank God he's not talking about me. This is obviously the over 70 crowd.
Because if he was, that would be scarier than the dead people.
Linda Roy is the writer behind the humor blog elleroy was here. A 2014 BlogHer Voice of the Year for Humor, she's contributed to The Huffington Post, Scary Mommy, Humor Outcasts, In the Powder Room, BLUNTMoms, Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, BlogHer, Mamapedia, BonBon Break, Ten to Twenty Parenting, Project Underblog, Midlife Boulevard, Aiming Low, Funny Not Slutty and The Weeklings. Her essays have been published in several anthologies, including I Still Just Want To Pee Alone, The Bigger Book of Parenting Tweets, Surviving Mental Illness Through Humor, Only Trollops Shave Above the Knee, Clash of the Couples, Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness and The Stigma Fighters Anthology. She was co-founder and Editor-in-Chief of Lefty Pop and a co-editor at Aiming Low. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, Google+, and YouTube. No wonder her family is always running out of clean underwear.
My spare closet is stuffed with clothing from the bygone era of my youth. This includes a few maternity outfits from the late 1980's that I just haven't had the heart to part with. Goodwill probably wouldn't want a tent-size nautical shirt with a big white bow on the collar, anyway.
When I pull a few of these old relics out of my closet, I'm instantly transported back in time. There's the pinstripe satin shirt and blue velour knickers I wore on my first date with my husband. And let's not forget the sequin tube top and red leather pants that were a big hit on the disco floor in 1980.
But what I really miss are my clothes from the 70's. I often wonder what happened to them. Maybe my old halter tops and corduroy pants are part of a moth-eaten, patchwork quilt in somebody's attic. Or maybe they're trapped beneath a pile of non-biodegradable diapers in a landfill somewhere in south Florida.
It seems like only yesterday that I was walking to middle school in my hip hugger, bell bottom jeans and a pair of my Dr. Scholl shoes. I also had a red bodysuit with snaps at the crotch, but that was long before I hit my "jelly roll" stage at fifteen. The bodysuit had a short lifespan once I realized that I needed to be a contortionist in order to unsnap the outfit quickly when the urge to pee hit.
The boys I dated wore some pretty sharp outfits as well. Tartan plaid pants with wide belts and turtleneck sweaters were all the rage. This was accented by shaggy hair that dusted the tops of their shoulder blades, and every boy I knew kept a comb in his back pocket. It wasn't until the mid to late 70's that I found myself drawn more to boys in white painter pants and tight, nylon shirts. Bonus points if they wore a Puka shell necklace or an Italian horn on a gold chain around their neck.
Stepping out for senior prom in the 1970's meant pastel colored leisure suits and platform shoes for the boys while the girls donned flowy, chiffon gowns and carried dainty, seed pearl purses.
You name it, I owned it:
*Terry cloth shirts (they could have doubled as car towels)
*Gaucho pants with a belted tunic and boots (safari bound?)
*Fringe shawls (they should have come with knitting needles and a rocking chair)
*Hot pants (these left little to the imagination for the boys)
*Wool poncho with a fur collar (not sure where the fur came from: Raccoon? Possum? Squirrel?)
*Shirts with high, ruffled collars (channeling my inner granny)
*Crochet hats and bandanas (best way to hide a bad hair day)
*Rabbit fur purse with a rabbit's foot keychain attached to the strap (okay, that was just MESSED UP)
*Jeans with bright stitching on the outside (long before we knew what a Bedazzler was)
*Elephant pants (yes, they really were large enough to hide an elephant inside….or chunky thighs)
*Smock tops with ruffled sleeves (nothing screamed "maternity top" more than these super blousy shirts. Not cool when you're twelve)
*Midi skirts (should have come with a warning: "Not designed for women with cankles")
*White overall shorts (going for the naughty "farmer's daughter" look)
*Chunky I.D. bracelet with my boyfriend's name etched across the front (the bracelet lasted longer than the boy)
*Wooden clogs (yeah, those were really comfortable…. for about two seconds)
*Quilted denim vests and skirts ( yes, we thought looking like human bed covers was attractive)
My husband didn't have quite the variety of "stylish" clothing that I owned, but he had his share of outfits that belong in a section of the Smithsonian called, "Ugly Fashion From The 70's That We Hope NEVER Comes Back In Style."
*Paisley shirts in bright colors (throw in some psychedelic drugs and these shirts would have you tripping in no time)
*Wide leather belts with a marijuana leaf or peace sign belt buckle (nothing like advertising your extra curricular activities)
*Corduroy pants (pretty hip, especially if you owned them in egg plant purple or mustard yellow) *Aviator sunglasses (no airplane necessary)
*Leather or silk headbands (think Jimi Hendrix or Tonto)
*Cut-off denim shorts (these were so short that the frayed ends tickled the testicles)
*T-shirts with popular sayings printed across the front ("Sock It To Me," or "Keep On Truckin'." Too bad "WTF" t-shirts didn't exist back then…)
*ANYTHING that was tie-dyed (this type of clothing was enhanced by black lights and sandalwood incense)
*Denim overalls (no shirt required)
*Polyster sports suits (in colors that made you look like you owned a Good Humor ice cream truck)
*Fringed leather jackets (Davy Crockett wanna-be)
*Plaid, cotton madras shirts (channeling your inner lumberjack)
*Nylon shirts and gold chains around the neck (the shirt was left unbuttoned to the middle of the chest----back when hairy chests were considered sexy and razors were obsolete) *Velour pantsuits ( maroon ones with gold stripes were especially popular. What the hell were we thinking?)
*POW bracelets (because everybody knew somebody who was fighting in the Vietnam War)
*Jackets with wide lapels (large enough to use as landing flaps)
*Suede cloth jumpsuits (good thing they didn't come in orange, otherwise you would have been mistaken for an escaped convict)
*Desert boots and "earth" shoes (ugly as sin, not to mention the nasty foot odor caused from wearing them)
*Corduroy sports jackets with leather patches on the elbows (what were those patches for, anyway? Walking around on your elbows? Protection from rug burns?)
Some people might view the 70's as an era of fashion disasters, but I'm all in favor of bringing sexy back with some gaucho pants, smock tops and a velour pantsuit!