The Haiku Project – September 2016

Day 1  - September 5

I have decided
to write a haiku each day

my fiftieth year
(With apologies to my friend Janie, who reminds me that this is actually my 51st year. Whatever. I screwed up the new millennium, too.)

Day 2 - September 6

Weekend memories
Fill my soul with such delight

Never felt so loved 

Day 3 - September 7

Stop making mistakes
I made before you were born
Learn, and make new ones

Day 4 -September 8

people walking through
the airport seem not to know
they are not alone

Day 5 - September 9

Dole whip with rum's good
Champagne with Chambord is, too
Let's toast to 50

Day 6 - September 10

My feet are so tired
Worth it because of my new
Fairy godmother

Day 7 - September 11

I'm home once again
Familiar smells, sights and sounds
But I miss palm trees

Day 8 - September 12

Mementos from trips
Provide a sweet reminder
Of yesterday's fun

Day 9 - September 13

You will not find a
Liver in a cooler here
Writers don't save lives

Day 10 - September 14

I don't like watching
Regretful downward spirals
So ... good luck with that

Day 11 - September 15

Alanis and I
Do not agree about what
Isn't ironic

Day 12 - September 16

just hand me coffee
and as Bob is my witness
no one will be harmed

Day 13 - September 17

last night we found it
the speck of dust onto which
we'll scribble stories

Day 14 - September 18

It takes just a few
Days to get used to sharing
Unlimited hugs

Day 15 - September 19

Thirteen-point-one miles
Will not run themselves, and so
It's back to training

Day 16 - September 20

Mammogram today
And a Pap smear, too - because
I really love life

Day 17- September 21

a day set aside
for international peace
it starts inside us

Day 18 - September 22

18 years ago
my favorite show premiered
many thanks, Sports Night

Day 19 - September 23

We all have bias
but if we try to see beyond
it can get better

Day 20 - September 24

Celebrating love
with extraordinary friends;
joy shared is more joy

Day 21 - September 25

sometimes even I
am a fool when it comes to
understanding you

Day 22 - September 26

the truth is, she goes
all the way to eleven
right across the board

Day 23 - September 27

What someone else thinks
pales in comparison to
the actual truth

Day 24 - September 28

Sometimes you have to
go crashing into the ground
before you can bounce

Day 25 - September 29

5:30 a.m.

spin class makes me want to die

did it anyway

Day 26 - September 30

Gray, rainy Friday

windows open, I smell fall

really not ready

Staring down the barrel of 50

Oh, you guys. YOU GUYS. This is not as easy as I am making it look.

Actually, that's not true. Turning 50 is easy. Handling the emotions that come along with it? That's another thing entirely.

I'm going through all the stages of grief - denial, annoyance, pizza, claustrophobia, anger at Trump supporters, tequila and baking - at the same time. This is bullshit, you guys.

I'm grateful to friends who have let me cry/weep/have a level four nervous breakdown with them over the past week or so. The tears are right near the surface these days, and I am powerless to hold them back. I've stopped trying.

Not panicking. It's out there. It's gonna happen whether I want it to or not (Lord willing.) I am not going quietly into that AARP-festooned hootenanny of middle age, but as God is my witness, if one more person tells me that age is a number, I will not be held responsible for my actions. I. Will. Cut. You.

See, over the past few years, I've seen myself change, and not for the better. I have never felt pretty. Ever. Except for about two days back when I was about 19, I have not felt like I had my looks going for me. It's not easy to be a girl and not be happy with the person looking back in the mirror. I joke that my awkward stage lasted until last week, but really ... I'm not joking. (Although that is entirely why I developed a sense of humor.)

Anyhoo, over the past year or so, I've seen myself becoming less pretty, and when you start out not very pretty to begin with, it feels like a tragedy. If the mirror tells the truth, I will never be as pretty as I was yesterday.

It's downhill from here, and it's breaking my own heart.

Yes, there are lots of things I can do now that I didn't do 10 years ago. I like myself - the whole of me - more than I ever have. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'd like to have the self-love I have now, and the body and face I had 20 years ago.

That's not how it works.

And no matter how many times I remind myself of amazingly beautiful women who are my age or older, the truth is I am not Helen Mirren. I'm not Diane Lane. I'm sure as hell not Angela Bassett (who has obviously made a deal with the devil himself.) So I'm just doing what I do, and moisturizing regularly, and hoping maybe nobody notices that I've hit this milestone.

So I'm trying to look at it like that picture - clearly, rockin' it into a new decade.

It helps that I have amazing examples of women who got there before me. My strong sister Jenn, who leaped (probably literally) into her 50s when chemo was an all-too-close memory, and two other sisters who paved the way (and proved that wrinkles are not, in fact, a foregone conclusion.) And my besties from Lifetime who have welcomed me to this exclusive tribe with open arms. As Donna said last night while I was trying desperately not to collapse into a pile of self-pity in yoga class, "Welcome to the club. We've been waiting for you." And I'll be damned if she doesn't make it look so beautiful and graceful, it seems like a place I might want to be.

Guys, this isn't an easy one for me. I'm probably not done crying, and I don't know what it's gonna look like as I move through it. Bear with me. (Do not bare with me, however. Gravity has arrived, my friends, and it is an unforgiving whore.) I have a lot of good stuff coming up during the coming year, and my 50th Anniversary Tour is going to be epic.

Even if I'm wrinkly. Even if I'm not as pretty as I dreamed I'd be. Even if I never run a 10-minute mile, finish a tri in less than two hours, fit into my skinny jeans, have a thick head of hair or leave the house without under-eye concealer. Because here's the thing:

I am still here. I am still dancing, and laughing, and cooking amazing food (you should see the pasta salad I just made!) and still being a damn good friend to those I love. I'm still here, guys. And my face may have aged, but I have not yet grown up.

Second star on the right, my friends. And straight on 'til morning.