Sitting on my sofa, alone, sleepy and hungry, I start my day. Checking my appointment book, I notice that today will be slow. I can be out of the salon by noon, in the tanning bed by 1:00 and have time for a manicure and pedicure which I so desperately want. Color of the day will be green. Lime Green, on toes and fingers. A color no mature woman would even think of wearing. Funny, I don’t feel mature. Should I? Is there a magic age that screams MATURE??
I am 30 days shy of becoming 50. The countdown is beginning in my head. It is like a ticking clock that is getting louder and louder. I wish the battery would just die, and then I would not have to hear it. But I realize that even if the clock no longer ticks, time will still go by. Every day brings a sunrise and the inevitable sunset. One day becomes two, then three, and so on. I don’t feel any different today than I did yesterday. I find myself looking in my mirror more often, trying to find the telltale signs, but my face shows no change from one day to the next. Maybe I will stop looking for a week. Just peek long enough to make up my face and dry my hair. Waiting a week, could be good therapy. But I know that I could never do that. My vanity is too strong. The urge to make sure I look my absolute best prevents me from taking a vacation from my mirror. The need to feel beautiful overwhelms me. What will it feel like on that day? What will I feel like on that day? Will my husband still find me attractive? Will he think I am old? Will people look at me and see an older woman? Will I still be sexy?
I am in a constant state of confusion. The need to express myself is becoming more important with each passing day. Exploring my mind and my heart is taking me on a journey that is both terrifying and enlightening. I am finding that “because I want to” is a good enough reason to do something. I am the only one who can make me happy. I am learning to say “no”.
The most important discovery so far is that all of the voices in my head belong to me. They are my past, my present and my future. They are a part of me, a part of who I am. They will laugh with me and cry with me. They will guide me thru the rest of my life. I am just getting to know them. I think I am just beginning to like them.
The countdown is continuing. It will continue until September 17. The clock will then cease to tick, the battery however, will continue to hum.
I will be 50.
Author's Bio
My name is Margaret Deadmon, but I write under the pen name of Cassandra Fox. I am a full time potter, specializing in Memorial Pet Urns. I retired from Hairstyling and owning my own salon recently, and after losing one of my beloved dachshunds "Flip" I began creating Urns for people who too have lost a pet. My website is http://www.blackdachshundpottery.com.
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