I ran the other night. 3-ish miles. My Nike+ is all off. I calibrated it and I think it effed it up. Oops. Either way, I ran the other night. I am working through the usual hip pain (right side.) It is painful in a nagging way. And my Achilles’ Tendon (I think.) It hurts and it is nagging. But I am sucking it all up. I am not doing harm to my body. What I am finding out about aging or just myself is that I need need need to stretch. I am planning to take another yoga class this fall to help with these issues. In fact, when I took yoga last fall I had very few pain issues from running SO there's that.
The other important thing I have learned is that my stomach muscles are jello and need to firm up. Without strong stomach muscles, my back aches, my hips hurt and I have jello tummy!
I feel as if I am stumbling very quickly toward forty - I feel I must write it out that way. FORTY. To see just the bare number makes me anxious (said in a whiny loudish voice.) I know I am further away from it then I am close to it but I cannot help seeing that number loom closer then it was when I was 30 or 31 or 32 for that matter. Recently I have noticed more and more gray hairs to the point where when I scheduled my next appt. with my adorable never ages hair dresser I asked to make it a color appt. Longer then the usual hair cut appt. but as I made the appt. I made the point of telling the nice, sweet, very long girl that I was just going to get some high lights swirling my finger around the top of my head near my roots. Gaw.
Lately, I am tired a lot. I am a late night gal. But Marisa has recently taken to rising with the rooster at 5:30 am. That combo is making me look and feel exhausted. I was noticing in the sunlight the other day as we were driving down the road that the combo of tired-ness and wrinkles... well, let's just say that is UN-Pretty. I looked fucking old, y'all. WTF.
Then it dawned on me that 'dude next year is my 20 year high school reunion'. That was really helpful.
I am seeking solace in the fact that tomorrow Marisa will be 23 months old. I have to keep doing the math about when I stopped nursing with her. It has only been three months. Three months of chemical suffering. Actually it has been longer that I have been suffering the chemical bitch slap that is post pregnancy/post nursing hell on my body. Obviously I cannot speak for anyone else. For me, hormones are a bitch, always have been and, I think, they always will be. I am not on birth control at the moment. Or as I like to call it hormone control. I started my period back some time ago so really that is when all of this started but it really ramped up after we stopped nursing.
I may look like I am forty due to the gray hairs and wrinkles but peeps my acne puts me in the possible 20-something range if you do not look to closely. Maybe even late teens!!! Frickin' awesome. This is the worst acne I have ever had. Rivaling the acne I had when I was pregnant with Matthew. It is truly awful, painful and really hard to cover up because it is every where. My face, neckane, backane, chestane (wha? TMI? Yup.) It sucks. I have hoisted the white flag and I made a (much needed) appt. to see my doctor about getting back in control of my life when it comes to hormones. Of course, she is not available until the middle of August but I have that and the (swirling my finger near by roots) hair appt. to look forward to.
For the love of gawd, this growing older stuff? It's gonna kill me....