Letting Go of Control

Have you ever noticed how seldom long term plans pan out? Life just gets in the way and nothing ends up “being” as we thought it would by now. What happened? Seriously, what happened to our economy and our retirement funds? Where’s all that home equity we used to be able to count on?

And why don’t I still look like I did when I was forty? I work on it; work out all the time. Try an assortment of wrinkle-be-gone and youth enhancing creams. Do yoga. What the heck? I’m starting to look like the women I always see and tell myself “you will never look like that!”

And, as long as I’m going to look like a grandma, where are the grand-kids? I’m sick of pretending all those dogs are grandchildren. They’re not!

It’s a good thing I waited this long to get a tattoo. Now I see what parts of me are staying in place so I won’t end up with a saggy tattoo. The end is close enough for me to trust if I have it put it on my “end” it will swing low around my knees right where it is anyway. Hopefully, it won’t get any worse.

There I go, trying to control things again.

This life, I tell ya, is not worth trying to control. Everything but “us” is in control; mother nature, gravity, destiny, God. They’re all out to show us who’s boss and we’re making fools of ourselves by trying to work against them.

Look at how many women get face lifts. So…nature pulls down on the entire body but we go out and jack up the face. Humm…doesn’t it seam odd that the parts won’t match? Why bother? We’re going to get old regardless of how good we look in the process. I’m not being critical, I’m just stating the obvious.

I’m going to head out the door for a good long walk. I’m trying to get my butt in shape for that new tattoo. I’m not sure what it’s going to be yet. Maybe something like Betty Boop, or Jessica Rabbit, or something a bit more realistic like Marge Simpson. Oh, well – I’ve got the rest of my life to decide.

Later,

Mary Ann