I pulled on my beloved, well-worn beach cover-up today and felt… Silly. I looked…SILLY. Like my old beach combing shift was too… “Young” for me. I mean, I have been wearing it since my late 20s… But how on this random Sunday, did it no longer “fit?” My husband charitably said casually later, “well, you’re not a kid anymore.” Well DUH. And thank God for that. When I was a “kid” I was too busy wearing professional crepe suits and heels from Barney’s, working my way up through layers of earnest California government and into the hideously lighted cubicles at NASA. When I embraced my mid-life crisis at 30– seven years ago– I threw out all suits, all panty hose, all badly fitting khakis from my days as an “adult”. Trading them for steel-toed Wolverines, a room-for-rent with friend Ben, and a Whitney Abbott painting of my Tomales Bay. (I love oysters.) Trekking into the world of wine, art and food as the carefree, unburdened hedonist I’d always yearned to be as an “adult.” And now? Seven years later, I am properly ensconced as that unbridled, no apologies hedonist of Taste. A properly cooking, painting, food writing, winemaking, bread baking, (and now) Mama to two and Wife to one feisty Italian Winemaker. So what the hell happened? I have lost all but 17 of the 80 + lbs of Baby Weight (thanks French Cheese and Butter). My cover-up fit me yesterday… Why not today? And it dawned on me:
Oh Shit. I am too OLD for this 20-something cuteness.
I looked around me at the beach today. All the flat little tummies of sun bathing beauties. I pulled on my hat a little snugger. I took stock. Strong legs? Check. Awesome rack? Check. Strong hands albeit always in need if a manicure? Yep. Great hair? Yep. Plump tummy? Slightly-loose thighs? Two c-section scars? Check. Check. Check. I made a mental note to go to the gym more and then realistically turned my thoughts towards what to make for Dinner. Because… I am no longer that taut little unburdened Twinkie, I realized with warmth. I’m a Mom. And a Cook. A Painter. A Wife. Someone who loves vintage-inspired frocks now and Panama Hats. Bigger jewelry and strong lipsticks. Because dammit, I’m about to be 37. I am HAPPY. And that’s a hell of a lot better than being Me at 27.
So I am leaving my little Twinkie beach cover-up here in Hawaii when we leave. Come to think of it… It might be the last thing I still wore from my 20s.
Moving on. Xo