Dressing strategically…

 

Winter has a silver lining–the added value of a warm, soft-like-cashmere  scarf.  I think “women of a certain age” have known it for awhile–but one has to mature enough to catch the nuance.  Which really means–when skin begins to sag, hide it!

In lieu of a facelift  I deliberately camouflage with a snaZZy scarf.   Yet another justification for my scarf collection!

  

Man, I’m stiff!

As a massage therapist, I relate to ‘feeling stiff” a little differently than most… as an aging boomer, I feel it all too well.

I see it as the body’s way of slowing us down until we become warmed up.   It makes me feel old and creaky, compromising my balance and my confidence as well.

The soreness is inflammation from the waste our muscles have created.  Movement and warmth help to carry it away, allowing freer movement while enabling circulation on many levels (it’s not just about blood–it’s lymphatic and hormonal too.

But when we don’t move much–ie sitting on the couch;  working at the computer; lying in bed; tensing up while driving;, etc,–

-we feel stiff.

What to do?

  • Rub what hurts before you get up and go.
  • Warm up literally–in the shower or with gentle movements–such as pumping your legs back and forth or making circles with yout ankles, etc.
  • Avoid over-stretching until you have moved around a bit
  • Use heat patches from the drug store–or some old fashioned Tiger Balm to warm up joints and tight muscles

Ok, that’s my preachy-massage-therapist-advice for this cold Winter’s day.

Let’s not allow inactivity to keep us down.

A limber body makes good use of a limber mind.

(you can quote me  on that!)

Morphing from Optimistic to Optimystic

Learning to be Optimistic

One of the lessons my Mother taught me was to couple a bad experience with a fun-filled one.

Having polio put that to test more than once.

I can remember going to get fitted for braces at a machine shop attached to Children’s Hospital.  I had a lump in my throat all the way there because I hated it so much.  There was a metallic, smell of oil and a man with a big dirty leather apron who would stepkindly from behind the counter to fit me.  He was gentle and that made it even harder to choke back the tears—I didn’t want to wear those big, clunky, heavy shoes with those heavy, cold steel rods that kept me upright.   I had to admit that something was  different about me on those days. It felt all wrong.   i tried not to complain because I knew even then that it hurt my mother to see me cry.

And then…  she would gather me into the car and say, “Ok, Let’s go to our favorite restaurant,” —Sugar ’N Spice!:, then we would go to a Cinerama movie to see something amazing like—The Wonderful World of the Brothers’ Grimm or Paint Your Wagon or Dr. Zchivago—and then, we’d go shopping!

 I guess I got my shopping propensity from that!

Morphing from Optimistic to Optimystic

I began learning to be “optimystic” as I saw coincidences and synchronicities around me too often to believe them to be “just pure luck”.  That makes even less sense than thinking there must be some sort of cause and effect afoot.

And I’ve learned to trust “timing”, even dabbling in manipulation by learning to SLOW DOWN TIME.

For instance, when I realize that I have more to do than time to do it in, as often happens, I say out-loud:  SLOW DOWN TIME  and I imagine all that I want to accomplish.  Then I let go of the worry. I don’t check the clock anymore after that–until I’m done.   I just get going, doing one thing (or more) at a time and not engaging in panic nor doubt that it’s going to get done.

And Voila`–it works!   Saving me from stress. Granny in black hat