Category Archives: Being Me

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Really – There’s an Age Limit for Wearing Jeans?

There was an article on Yahoo the other day about a survey that was taken in England about what age people felt it was time to stop wearing jeans.

As an avid jeans wearer and lover of jeans I was very curious to find out what that age was and I was shocked by the answer. The median age from the survey was – wait for it . . .


Now to a 20 or 30-year-old, 53 is probably the equivalent in their mind to age 100, but to someone in their late 40’s, 53 is not that far away and does NOT seem that old.

If you are wearing the same style of jeans that you wore when you were 18 and haven’t updated your look or the awful “mom” jean– then I agree, it is time to let those babies go.  But if you are staying current with the latest jeans styles and keep yourself together, I don’t see any reason why you can’t wear jeans until your 70’s.

The same holds true for the bikini.  Someone asked me whether or not I thought a woman who is 50 should wear a bikini.  I say if she feels good in it or has a great body – why not?  I see plenty of young girls wearing bikinis who should definitely NOT be.  There are two fitness instructors in my gym who recently turned 50 and they look fantastic.  I have seen one of them in a bikini and she ROCKS it!

People have preconceived notions about what people of a certain age look like and with exercise, healthy living, fillers, etc. women look better than ever and are shattering those stereotypes.  A “how to get a job over 40 webinar” that I watched recently said “talk about exercise with the employer so that they know you have enough energy to do the job.”  WHAT? My God, I have more energy than ever.  That cracked me up.  The stereotypical portrait of a 50-year-old really needs to be revised.

I for one, will not be retiring my jeans at 53.

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24 Hours Is All You Need To Reconnect

4 High School Friends

Just had a fabulous time with some friends from high school in NYC.  It has been five years since we all got together, and we wondered why it took us so long to organize another trip.  Are we really that busy that we can’t grab a quick 24 hours away from our families?  It’s sad that we forget to make time with girlfriends a priority in our lives.

My girls’ weekend was a much needed respite from the daily grind, a temporary escape from the things weighing on my mind lately.  I was reminded that everyone has problems.  Everyone has kids that have “issues,” injuries, drive you nuts, etc.  It was so refreshing to get a chance to vent, to tell stories, go out to lunch, shop and catch up on what is going on in my friends’ lives.  I have felt so alone with some of my struggles over the years and I didn’t have to be. I just needed to stop being afraid to reach out and be honest with people.

On our trip, we reminisced about high school, laughed about the stupid stuff that we did, teachers that we had, guys we dated.  We saw a show and had amazing seats (7th row) for Kinky Boots (a rare treat).  FABULOUS show!!  If over-the-top drag queens can’t put you in a good mood then nothing ever will 🙂

It was great to be around women that know me so well and still think that I am ok after knowing the good, the bad and really ugly.  The weekend lifted my spirits and gave me the strength to leave NYC and face my world again.

I highly recommend texting your friends and scheduling your next get together. Do it right now. It’s worth it.

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So Tired of The Gray Cover Up

Tired of Coloring Hair

When I was sixteen I remember sitting in the hairdresser’s chair trying desperately to get a haircut that would make me look like one of the models in SEVENTEEN.

My mother insisted that we go her hairdresser, Maureen, a stylist with a mind of her own who did what SHE wanted to your hair. “Just a trim” meant two inches had to go because in her mind there was just too much “damage.”  God, if she could only see me now after 20+ years of hair color.  Damage is an understatement.

Anyway, I didn’t have a great love for Maureen, and that day, as she was butchering my hair and making me look 30 instead of 16 she exclaimed, “Oh my God, look at this – a gray hair,” and then she plucked it from my head.  I did not believe her at first, but when she showed me the long gray hair there was no denying it.  I was horrified but moved on.  I mean, I was only 16.  It was a fluke – right?

Fast forward almost 30 years later, thousands of wasted hours and dollars later, and I am still fighting a losing battle against my full head of gray hair.  Would you know that my hair is solid white?  Hell no, you would not because I spend every 2 weeks coloring it, hiding it and maintaining it.  But my hair grows fast and is very thick.  A great head of hair, but a nightmare for someone who is constantly sprouting skunk stripes.

One of my friends cracks me up because she has a friend who went gray and posts selfies of herself in all her gray glory on FB.  She sends me photos of the gray lady all the time saying, “Don’t do it.  Look how old it makes you look.”  She’s right. I know it.  But I just want to stop the madness.  Enough is enough already.  When can I just be me? 

Sigh.  I think the answer is never.

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My Name Is Not Rachel . . . So Why Do I Answer To It?


Ok.  I don’t understand this but I am constantly called Rachel.  Rachel (RAY- CHULL) is not the same name as Raquel (RAH –KELL).  They are not spelled the same, pronounced the same and are entirely different names yet inevitably, by the end of every conversation, the person I am talking to says “bye Rachel” to me. UGH – and like a dope I cheerfully say “bye” right back and I don’t remind them that my name is Raquel.  Why do I do that??

I have gotten so used to it that when someone says “Rachel” I just answer to it.  The nurse in the doctor’s office will starting asking for “Rachel” to come on back, so I just get up and go whether or not there is a real Rachel in the room (and sometimes there is actually a Rachel — embarrassing!).

It’s like calling Carrie the name Karen or Donna the name Diana.  They are two different names right?  Don’t you get mortified when you call someone the wrong name? I even had someone that I thought knew me pretty well call me Rachel at Home Depot the other day.  I was bummed but answered to it anyway.  Maybe I’ll start an “I am not Rachel campaign” and see what happens.  In fact, I’m declaring right now that I’m going to start correcting people from this day on.

No more Rachel for this Raquel.

Do you get called the wrong name?  Do you tend you call others the wrong name?  Let me know!