This is 50

I’m looking forward to my 50th birthday coming and going with very little fanfare. I’m not sure why. When I was 39 I couldn’t wait to celebrate 40, but 50 – meh, not so much.

Possibly because only exactly one person I know was like, “50 – oh yeah, you’re going to LOVE IT!!” Everyone else I know, I bring up 50 and they groan. Which tells me 50 is either nothing to celebrate or their bodies have already given out and it’s just too hard to get up out of their chair to come slap me into my 50s. Either way, I think I’ll pass.

Or maybe I’m just not in a celebrating mood. I’m a week away from surgery #2, which is following six months (to the day!) on the heels of surgery #1…which was followed by nonstop work travel and projects. I don’t think I’ve been home for more than five whole days since mid-February, and frankly, I’m just tired.

So, I’ve decided to celebrate my 50th in style. Mrs. Roper-style. Did you know Helen Roper was 46 years old?? Well, dammit, if she can rock a caftan so can I! In fact, I’ve decided jammies and caftans will be my entire May attire. I want to do nothing but sit on my ass, admire my new breasts, watch TV and read for 30 whole days.

And if I give my hairdryer the month off, I’ll be rocking the same curly/frizzy do as dear young Helen, too. We’ll be like twins, just a few decades apart.

Speaking of decades. Who decided five of them was worth gold? And where do I go to cash in said gold? No hurry – you can tell me later, because as I’ve said, I won’t be going anywhere in May.

I’m tired, for sure, but I’ll also be under doctor’s orders to lay low for three weeks. No driving. No raising my arms over my head. No lifting more than five pounds. Sound familiar? If not, I refer you back to “Oh, Heavenly Pants!” although now that I’m thinking about it, I should rewrite that sucker because – pants?? Who needs pants when there are caftans to be lounged around in?

As much as I plan to sit around and do nothing for the month of May, it’s going to be so hard to last even the three prescribed weeks. And while I can’t wait for my long-awaited downtime to begin I’m also already ready for it to end, because I have the best intentions of doing absolutely nothing for 30 days, it’ll likely only take me 30 minutes to be over it.

I could spend my time practicing selfies, skills that are essential in today’s world but still completely elude me. How do I not know where to look?? I’m the one holding the camera! And why do I always look surprised?

But then again, post-op caftan-rocking downtime might not be the best time to take selfies. Perhaps not a look I’ll look back fondly on.

Maybe I’ll practice not being addicted to my phone at all! Can you imagine a whole month without my electronic appendage? Talk about scary!

I know I’ll be bored in May and a total captive audience, but please, dear God, don’t come visit me. I may be rocking the Mrs. Roper look…but what a look! It’ll all be worth it though, as long as you tell me I look 46. In June.