Head Smack and Deep Thoughts

I admit it. I'm becoming even stranger as I age. I should have planned ahead like the guy I read about recently in the New York Times. He started making a list of things he wasn't going to do when he aged. He was age 50 at the time (now he's 60), and he was observing his own parents. Some of the things were:

• Driving too long - his mother had been in several fender-benders
• Refusing medical assistance - such as a walker after a fall
• Upkeep of the house

There was more, but I'm old, and I can't remember what I read....I can remember my own mother verbalizing similar thoughts about her mother and my dad's folks. She swore she'd happily accept Meals On Wheels when the time came. Of course, she passed away at age 68, so we never got to experience her obstinacy at such milestones. And thank goodness for Kay Harris who helped make sure Dad didn't drive. I'd better start making my list now, so my own kids don't have as much to deal with.  

Anyway, back to me. I'm already weird. I don't move into new things quickly. My behavior is more like a feral cat, where I must observe, and gradually accept that it's okay before moving in. So keep that in mind kids. When you put me into the "home", let me warm up to it. 

I joined a new gym a few weeks ago, Prairie Life Fitness. So far I really like it as it's laid back and not overly crowded. I have walked on the track while scoping out the pool to see just when lanes are available. I dislike sharing lanes. Those of you who have known me since childhood know I've enjoyed swimming all my life. I am the reigning 40-yard 13/14-year-old breaststroke record-holder at Sunnyside Pool. (Last I checked - which was in the 1970's).  

Finally, on Friday I was ready to take the plunge. One other swimmer was in the eight-lane pool when I finally figured out there was no entrance directly from the Women's Locker Room. The door into the pool also flummoxed me. See how hard it is for me? Did I mention that I dislike asking for help? Yes, it's a weakness. A nice lady did notice my perplexed look and explained the door directions. See, that wasn't so bad Leslie. 

The water was just the right temp, and I paddled away for a half hour or so. During one stretch of backstroke, I started to drift (mentally not in the water), thinking about Net Neutrality and its possible effect on rural Iowa. Bam, my head smacked the end of the pool. Lucky they have a plastic edge, much kinder than concrete. Course correction. No deep thoughts whilst swimming. 

Ultimately, I do recognize that I am not the same person that I once was. I can be a weird introvert at times, which makes it difficult to do new things. I feel good about conquering the pool yesterday! As Arnold said in Terminator, "I'll be back!". 

A face tune up - no botox

A couple weeks ago I had my annual skin checkup. Fair skinned folks like myself are prone to skin cancer. Dad and sisters have a history of precancerous spots that required removal. I have had several zapped with liquid nitrogen, plus one basal cell spot removed. #badskingenes

Hotties cooking

Toss in the fact that I spent a great deal of time in the sun growing up - we were pool rats! Followed by several years simmering in the sun on the Atlantic swim team and then as a lifeguard. Coppertone was applied to encourage the sun to caress one's skin - not to block it. Or we put on baby oil with iodine at times - I'm not sure what that was about. Later we did start adding Zinc Oxide - a sun block on our noses.

I fried pretty much every which way. Not only at the pool - but as an equal opportunity burner - on the mountain. I burned my face so badly in college I developed orange blisters and my lips swelled up so that I...well, had lips! (my nickname has been zipper lips through the years)

After all of these years am I considered well-done now? Do I get the plastic thingy stuck in my head like a steak? Unfortunately - my skin doesn't cook evenly. What I ended up with are well-done spots. Age spots. Oh I pretended they were my long-lost freckles come back for a while, but there's no denying it now. Aging skin - brown and even red little clusters right on my face. How nice for me.

When I had my skin check I asked the nurse practitioner about ways to treat some of the issues I was seeing with my increasing age. I don't think of myself as a vain person - I just want to be happy with who is looking back at me in the mirror. Just like chemical assistance for my hair my skin needed a lil help. For the bestest me!

Ellen

Ellen is a Clinical Aesthetician at Koch Facial Plastic Surgery and Spa. She was just the person to talk me through this thing - very professional in explaining what would happen, how it would work and how it would feel. Ellen asked a great deal about my genetics - how well this machine works depends on the skin type one has. She said I sounded like a perfect candidate. The best thing is that I'm no longer a sun goddess! I ended up having a partial facial treatment - on a machine that's not really a laser.

It's call photorejuvenation or Intense Pulsed Light. It kinda hurts and even with little protective glasses I could see a "lightning bolt" each time she zapped me. Ellen talked me through it. It was $99. Every spot she treated turned darker immediately. Then they'll dry up and go away. She said a few of the lighter ones may need to get hit again. The left side of my face had more spots...why? From driving! Subaru - put a filter on those windows!

Ellen used to be a dental hygienist. She loves her job she told me. I could tell! Ellen says I should put sun block on my skin each day. It should have zinc in it, she said - and not just be sunscreen. Hmmm. I don't think the type I have qualifies - need to find some. If you're tanning - you might consider fake tan - it might save you some treatment on down the line!

I'll let you know if my face dries up and falls off...

Happy Mom on Mother's Day Thanks kids!

 

If you've not tried Trader Joe's chips - they're like $3 - 3 thumbs up according to Pablo



Pablo made seared scallops for my special meal - even though I'm not his mother