Thursday, June 30, 2011

My Mid-life Crisis

I recently overheard someone suggest that men of a certain age who change from a lifetime of sloth and gluttony to suddenly trying to get in shape are probably only doing it because they are going through a mid-life crisis.

I hated to admit it and it took me a lot of soul searching to realize this is exactly what is happening to me.

About 6 months ago, I looked in the mirror and saw my whitening and simultaneously disappearing hair (actually it's just relocating to my ears and back), my sprawling topography of wrinkles, round belly and jiggly man boobs and all of a sudden it hit me:

"Meh, I look OK, I guess."

And yet I still went into my mid-life crisis, nonetheless.

But it was specifically a crisis of my no longer being able to ignore the truth that now that I am over 40, every single year that goes by will be met with a sharp and dramatic spike in my chances of having cancer, diabetes, a heart attack or a stroke, if I continue to eat poorly and do not exercise.

Yeah. Chew on THOSE Cheetos, buckaroo.

That's why I won't dye my hair, buy a sports car that I can't afford or wear gold chains, but I will maybe eat a couple more things every day that are made only out of plants. I will also cross the road just to cross the road and not only to get to the other doughnut.

I am not terribly concerned with how great I look in a bathing suit or if girls half my age still think I am cute (they do), but this "dying while I'm still young" business is a bunch of crap!

Could I still die young? Yes. Statistically, I still have a good chance of dying before I am 50 from chasing down that jackass who cut me off on I-205 on Monday morning, but I suppose it could also still be from a stroke or heart attack before then (especially since stress and anger also apparently help contribute to them).

And if that happens, I more than welcome any and all fat people to say "I told you so!" and dance on my grave (or waddle slowly until they get winded, their choice).

I am 3 days away from starting the 3rd and last month of my P90X workout and I can only hope and pray that it helps me to reach my primary and sensible goal:

To take this wrinkly old fart and make me look sexy!


  1. Dear Patricio....ahem..."My name is Tiffany and I'm a midlife-crisoholic." Yay! I said it without getting sweaty pits or palms! So, my first midlife crisis was when I was about 27. I realized most of my friends were 24 or younger and that high school boys still gave me whiplash. So I decided that I wasn't going to change at all, and just have my crisis early whole I semi-blended in with my cronies. Sadly, the PDX (not to be erroneously interpreted as P90X)agro, rage-filled, yes-I'm-forever-jaded scene was my new persona.
    Flash forward to children, an extra 20 lbs of wrinkled midsection fat, and government assistance, and it's like the ACME midlife crisis infomercial. Now, a few trips around the sun later, I discover that my previous crises were mere flirtations as I realize that ADD and motherhood are not compatible, my children are afraid I just may think I'm a cougar (not!), and all the stickers plastered on my car aren't cool, but rather a great excuse for the policia to 'pull the hippie over'.
    That's why I won't dye my hair either, or buy a sports bra I can't afford (or won't use), or wear gold bling with cool cutouts on my front teeth, but I will try to accept myself for who I am, sexy or not, cool or not, weird and nice...or not. You're not alone!

  2. So, we're doing the fat joke routine, eh? I didn't notice any wrinkles but just to let you know - fat smooths and plumps them into fine thin lines so don't be disappointed if you look more wrinkly after the weight is gone BUT if you keep this wit going, you'll be seen as puckery, so it all works out.

    Actually, I think your 'mini' mid life crisis is due to your seeing us about six months ago and you looked into the face of the abyss - now from where I am teetering, things are looking pretty good. {hint: avoid mirrors - like politicians - they all lie} A good thing that comes with being older {well, older then you are} is all is good if you can get off the floor....thanks for another really good laugh which, by the way, keeps my spirit, if not my body, young.

  3. I am so inspired by your efforts, but not all that glitters is a gold grill. I stay young at heart but gravity has not been my friend either. However, in celebration of my lost 75lbs and further butt kicking my thyroid into submission, I shall embrace my grown-upedness. No more gold bling for me and Ill be (tearfully) removing all posters of RPattz from my room (much to my 14yr old's delight) and refraining from speaking texting acronyms out loud "totally El Oh El!". Listening to Taylor Swift is still a probability but I can still claim "eclectic tastes" (Mos Def's Ms Fat Booty worked but I started to feel it was frighteningly biographical).
    There is upkeep, naturally, to keep that youthful glow. And if you ever feel like youre failing in your task, you're always invited to our apt pool where muffin top is a standard (have you seen an neighborly egg with two rubber bands?). Overheard pool conversations include "Does my back hair clash with my bikini?" ...they're enough to maintain your spirit and motivations with or without RPattz posters. Keep it up :)

  4. Weird Girl But Nice makes me "El Oh El"... tell me she has a blog. I want to read it. :)