Here's My Number

Everybody has got a special day in his life that deserves a monster celebration. And I just had mine in June. Believe it or not, the big 5-0 has finally arrived. Yes, you heard me well. Let me say it again. I just turned fifty. Not that I was exuberantly anticipating to reach this age. On the contrary, I was wishing that I’d stay forty nine in the next few years and never to move from there.( Wish I could lower the number than forty nine but I think that's pushing my luck already.)

However, all of a sudden, I reflected on the glorious years backwards. My eyes suddenly opened to the fact that I’ve already reached the pinnacle of a woman’s blossoming years. I looked back to the past with a grateful heart thanking God that His hands were upon me as I survived the highs and lows of the rollercoaster moments of my life blessed with the protection of a secured safety harness of His love.

 Isn’t that amazing? What else can I ask for?

Truthfully, announcing to the whole world of Facebook and Twitter that I just turned 50 is not something as interesting as announcing a store’s big 50 percent closing out sale.  

Admitting to friends and in worse case, announcing to social networking crowd that you’re a half century old especially those women like me may not be a smart idea. Albeit shows sheer honesty a dauntless move and boldness as bungee jumping in topless.

Either that or you get suspected that you just smoked something illegal for you to be able to write a what-the-hell-was-I-thinking-post saying “I’m celebrating my 50^th today. Yey!”  Translated as “Hey peeps, I’m expected to have hot flashes any time soon.” Yeah, right. Go and announce it to the world.

To be honest, fear started to cripple me as months approached my golden year. Ok, here’s the list of my version of sum of all fears-fear of wrinkles, sagging breasts, wider hips, more gray hair, thick cellulite, prominent varicose veins, uncontrollable weight gain and women’s number one enemy- abdominal obesity. 

Oh, did I mention the stigma of being labeled as menopausal?  regarded as too matronly- sexy in a dignified way but a little less on the hot chic trendy sexy –in other words lower market value started to haunt me.

All of those and the insecurity of less sexually hot anymore but experiencing hot flashes instead is quite overwhelming. All too much for a woman who couldn’t accept that party is over.

On a hindsight, as I pondered on this age dilemma personal issue, I stopped and mulled over- what’s there really to be terrified about being fifty? 

Isn’t this the age that any woman should be proud of? If you come to think of it, the laugh lines above my cheekbones bespeak of how much I see humor in every awkward situation that any young person would’ve frowned about. Wrinkles are sign of wisdom and deeper concern about the future. Sagging breasts remind of maternal love and nurturing a child’s life. Weight gain symbolizes the changes in a woman’s body undergoing stress under pressure while surviving the intricacies of every stage of life.

Reaching 50 is a shining privilege. Reality is-not everybody gets the chance to reach this stage unfortunately. It’s like a reaching a high level status indicating your accomplishments in life and yet survived the strongest hurricanes in love, career, family and health. With all my life’s experiences, I may have been tossed , twirled, slammed and crushed and yet,  I am still standing.

By and large, women of 50 like me are women with a heart made of rock but dashed with golden stardust. One who struggled but emerged with grace and regality like a swan paddling her webbed feet furiously under water gliding  through with poise and serenity afloat.

After saying this, don't you just feel majestic? I do.

 Now, seriously, tell me why I wouldn’t be proud of being a golden girl?

 They say that wine tastes better with age. With hot flashes or not, we definitely still taste a lot better.  Let's drink to that.

 Cheers!

How Far Can You Go?

Few years ago, I had an ideal notion of what a runner was like-sporty, one who makes running a career, joins serious marathon of 42 km stretch, heavily toned muscles, owns all sorts of branded running shoes and updates himself with the latest high tech gadget to boost his passion for running.

Well….. I’m none of the above. And I don’t own any of those.  But I consider myself a runner. I only have two reliable Nike running shoes, an old light pocket sized mp3 player and a handy smart phone that keeps me hooked up with Runkeeper- an app that calculates my distance, time and calories lost. That’s all.

As a matter of fact, I discovered only the joy of running in my late 40’s which is kinda late. But after poisoning myself with toxic chemicals of cigarettes for six years, I decided to wage war on smoking and successfully winning the battle so far.  Thereafter, I mustered the courage to turn over a new leaf- a smart shift to healthy lifestyle. It was then when running became a part of my rigid twice a week grind. Translated as, if I miss a weekday run- I make up for the weekends. 

Long time ago, running was utterly improbable for me since I wasn’t fit for any strenuous exercise due to asthma that I battled with since I was in 2^nd grade. Oh well, in as much as the spirit was willing, but the flesh was literally weak too.Until one day, I just felt like somebody smacked me in the head that I imagined seeing stars moving around my head ( minus a little bird flying ) like in cartoons urging me to take a look at the flabs around my hips, sagging arms and a big chunk of abdominal fat jiggling like a jello . So I tried brisk walking. I thought, what the heck!  So I did. At least for a couple of years.

The challenged then was that I undermined myself that brisk walking was all what I was only capable of until I told myself, “No, wait a second. I think I can do more than this.” I knew I could.” Surprisingly, you wouldn’t imagine what one’s will power and determination can do. Guess what? I did it. I ran my first kilometer accomplishment that I almost celebrated treating my colleagues some ice cream except that icecream will make me gain more calories( not good for a new runner then.)

Moreover, I didn’t just limit myself to running but I crossed trained in badminton as well. I admit, beating the drum about this small feat is not about physical strength and agility  but the minuscule step I attempted  was the beginning of my love affair with running. It was literally love at first try.

Did you know that finishing the first 5 km (3.10 mi) run is as rewarding as passing a board examination that after going through a rigorous six month review period- you reach the feeling of completion of your end goal.

My jaw dropped once I read about a Nike running commercial slogan  that says “What are you running for?” That’s a good question actually. Well, initially for me, to keep me away from smoking that’s the official and the unofficial ( and the truth)  to lose weight.

However, as I was getting the hang of running, I noticed that things have started to change. I’m loving every single moment…every stride…. and every kilometer I pass… moments of solitude…communing with nature… wind touching my face… crisp winter air… sun rays touching my skin… music pounding into my ears and  Runkeeper”s nagging voice uttering a resounding “activity completed!” And most of all, I cherish the chance to whisper a small prayer or the time to thank God for His goodness as I pound pavements.

These are more than enough reasons to motivate me   get on my feet every  Saturday morning. All of these surpassed the physical benefits of running. Running has become more of a joy into my soul and a test of my character, will power, endurance and determination.

I run not only during bright sunny days. I run in sub-zero temperatures, scorching heat, light snowy day, drizzling, tired from work, busy, feeling blue,  ecstatic, in love 

( that makes me run fast) and heart broken( that makes me run even faster.)

 I go straight ahead, all the way round, change route, go short cut, uphill and then downhill- ( which is the best -my cloud nine.) It   doesn’t matter where my feet direct me. I just take my running shoes and off I go.

 Running ( or any physical strenuous activity) defines one’s character. How well can you endure hurdles to push yourself to the limit. Sounds parallel to our perspective about life, doesn’t it? Would you quit when challenges get in the way or would you stay on steady course?

After falling in love with running, my honeymoon with it comes when running reminds me every time that “ Life is not a sprint.  It is more like a marathon.” It’s not how fast you go but how far can you go. Don’t get conscious of how you’d design your future, plan your week or how you’re going to fill up your day. Just go with the flow. You’ll never know what’s going to be like tomorrow and where will it lead you.

John Bingham, the American Marathon runner said “ If you run, you are a runner. It doesn’t matter how fast or how far. It doesn’t matter if today is your first day or if you’ve been running for twenty years. There’s no test to pass. No license to earn. No membership card to get. You just run.”

Take the challenge. Just run. Or do whatever you want to do. Go where the wind takes you.  But enjoy the twirl. Then see how far can  you go.

More Spring Collection

Please excuse me. Blogger has changed its format on uploading my posts and it's making me so confused. Let me try to upload some more pics in here.

My Spring Collection

If you’re thinking that this is all about spring fashion clothes collection, well, sorry to disappoint you- you’re wrong. Since Spring is about to end soon and summer is right just around the corner, I figured to post some pictures that highlight why I love Spring.. I know you may have your reasons too. Feel free to share it with me. I would love to see them.

You must have seen these pics on Facebook if you’re my FB friend since I have been posting gorgeous flowers like crazy. But if you haven’t seen them all, here’s something to brighten up your Spring. Remember, Spring reminds us of a new beginning in whatever form that is- maybe a start of a new life, new hope, new relationship or a  new job. It doesn’t matter whatever it is  for as long as it gives us life’s second chance.

A Day in Vienna

What I like about living in Europe is that you don’t only have to take the plane or a train to cross over to another country. Sometimes all you need is a reliable car plus a visa ( that’s if you need one) and off you go.

During my trip to Vienna, a six hour drive from Croatia, I kinda braced myself for unexpected surprise that may come along the way. Not necessarily bad though considering that it was Friday the 13th. We know that anything can happen that can either bring the best or the worst in you.

My main purpose of visiting Vienna was not to sight see and rediscover Mozart’s home country. But to do some official business at the embassy. Since the embassy’s consular services work up to 4 pm only, I was under a lot of nerve wracking time pressure. Thankfully, my friend who was kind hearted enough to drive me from Zagreb to Vienna while I snoozed off was as cool as cucumber. So he kept my strained emotions at bay.

Though he was expecting me to help him navigate through the map ( no GPS in his car unfortunately. I agreed at first but uhmm there was only a slight problem, I don’t know how to read maps. I turned the map upside down and then turned it sideways just to see where we were but I couldn’t find it. So, I got a better idea. I slept in the car so I got a good excuse.

We arrived almost past lunch time. As soon as we reached there, it was crunch time. We’ve got only approximately 2 hours and a half before closing. We were given instructions by a friendly and nice Turkish businessman who owns a Jewelry Shop to park the car and go by tram and subway to our destination.
That’s when the misadventure started.

We bought tram tickets but we didn’t know where to get off until we asked a pleasant old man to help us which stop we need so we could catch the train heading to other side of the town. He mentioned U-ban which is an equivalent of a subway. Then the train has a diagram of stopping points where passengers can glance for guidance but the Austrian names that are as long as their Frankfurters are not only tongue twisting but confusing as well. So after stepping on a few wrong platforms and asking more than 10 people for directions, we finally made it to the embassy and did what I had to do.

Now the challenge after that was how to get back on the street where we parked our car. Then tracing back how we came in was like having a feeling of Hansel and Gretel tracing back the trail of bread crumbs in the woods to reach home. Along the way, we had encounters with different pecular reactions from people on the street as we asked for directions in macaronic language- German, English and Croatian.

We even had a bizarre encounter with a middle aged lady, reddish watery eyes obviously wasted since she was holding a can of Heineken who stopped my friend and moved her face closer to his- stepping on his personal space like she was about to kiss him. Then with a very soft voice she whispered something that made my friend react and said “ Oh so you have a secret?”

Then the lady raised her voice a bit and said “No, I said, do you have a cigarette?”
Then we understood what she meant and in fairness to her, she gave us directions as she slurred.

Finally, we reached the parking space area and felt it was close to home when we saw the car. Two cups of coffee and short stroll after, we got back to the car and found our bread crumbs again drove out of Vienna…Gratz…then Maribor ( Slovenia) and finally Zagreb.

It’s good to be back home.

Stop and Smell the Flowers

On the way to my appointment, I passed a huge park situated at the heart of the town center. My attention was caught by a tree filled with blooming dainty white with a tinge of lilac flowers-all over the tree crown.

It was at the height of its bloom which is why petals fell on the ground like a bed sprinkled with rose petals. But, it isn’t rose petals this time but magnolia. On the tree you can’t even spot a green hue since there was no single leaf but only pure flowers.

It was a breathtaking sight to behold. Since I had some extra 30 minutes left before my appointment, I sat down on a bench next to the tree and indulged my eyes with the amazing beauty of nature that God has bestowed on us. I couldn’t believe that I was staring at the real scene and not just a downloadable computer wallpaper.

Instantaneously, I felt that my stress level was reduced not a smidge but by half level at least. No matter how busy we are, it’s really worth to stop and smell the flowers.

Thanks, But No Thanks to Big Erasers.

I think this is the biggest eraser I’ve ever seen. I found this one few months ago in a bookstore. I grabbed it at once (and took a picture of it with my smartphone. ) I wasn't sure if I'd need it. That's why I didn't buy it.

But a little voice inside my head kept whispering like “don’t you wish that you could erase away all the mistakes you made in your life with this pink rubber eraser?”

Hmmm …. Well, ofcourse , don’t we all? We hope that wrong decisions, inappropriate reactions or unintentional bad actions are mistakes that could be wiped out in one sweep. Like as if it never happened, right?

Whenever we make an unwise decision, it may be a failure in a relationship, a bad choice of words, a wrong career path or may be as trivial as wrong brand of clothes softener, we always say with regret that “I should’ve done this or I should’ve done that instead”.

We blame ourselves or better yet, do everyone’s favorite thing to do, blame others. In my case, I blame others less but do the opposite more. I beat myself up spending sleepless nights with what-in-the-world-was-I-thinking?!

Until my unconscious miscalculation keeps on niggling at the back of my mind as I over analyze things or situations that I could’ve done better.

Ok I’m guilty because what I’m doing ( blaming myself) is not far better than blaming others. Although I’ve to say that blaming others is more fun than blaming myself.

However, on a hindsight, mistakes happen for a reason. It makes our perspective wider when we look into other directions for possible options to rectify what we’ve done wrong. In the same vein as, this brings us down to our knees and seek God’s guidance seriously ( knowing that the bigger the blunder, the more serious we are with our prayers, right?) so He could show us a lesson or two that He intends us to learn from it.

In other words, making mistakes should be perceived more as a boon than a bane since it molds us and fortifies our character with strength, resiliency and humility.


So, who needs big erasers anyway? Well, for sure, I don’t.

How about you?