As established in my book, Oasis: A Spa for Body & Soul, I am a high maintenance babe. I didn’t necessarily mean to be. I just am. At my 50th year, I am in need of special lotions, face creams, shower gels, shampoos, conditioners, under-eye creams, upper lid creams, more exercise, less calories, and more sleep. Sheesh. But what I discovered this morning, as I was showering, is that I have such a conglomeration of product, it’s a wonder I know which end is up!

I bought a new milk bath product. After you shower, you pour a bit of this lovely liquid into the cupped palm of your hand, then rub it over your body, rinse, and pat dry. I absolutely fell in love with it. So much so that I keep sniffing myself. My skin DOES feel silky smooth and nearly like a gal of 21’s!

Ah, 21! Remember 21? Even vaguely? Yesterday I went to a wedding. A dear friend with grown children was saying her vows to a man she’s waited a lifetime for. I was tickled pink for her and, even though I don’t usually attend weddings, I went to this one. First, I love this gal and second, I love wedding cake. I waited all day for the wedding cake. I purposefully ate very little for two days in anticipation of the cake. White and moist on the inside, white and fluffy on the outside. Alot like me…

Instead, I ended up dancing to the Cha-Cha Slide and watching some friends couple dance to the oldies but goodies. There was actually some jitterbugging going on on that dance floor! And, naturally, the Electric Slide. Now, I didn’t dance the couples dances because my other half didn’t attend. I barely got him to attend OUR wedding, much less someone else’s.

One of the women at my table, noticing mutual friends doing the jitterbug, said, “Someone has been taking dance lessons.” This woman is younger than me. I do mean younger. Still in child-bearing years younger. She doesn’t understand the universal truth of those of us who danced our way through the sixties and seventies: American Bandstand and Saturday Night Fever, baby! Everyone, I told her, knew how to dance back then.

After doing the Cha-Cha Slide, however, I thought that I distinctly remember being able to breathe a bit easier after all those dances. (How is it, you may be wondering, that a woman of 50 years knows about the Cha-Cha Slide? Well, I’ll tell you…I have a granddaughter who lives with us and we listen to Radio Disney. That’s how!)

So…back to the cake? How was it? I don’t know. We (the four others who rode in my car and I) left just as the cake was being cut. It was getting late, we were all getting a little tired what with all the dancing and stuff, it was about 45 minutes to home….

So, I came home and ate three Keebler Chococlate Chip cookies, the crunchy kind…. Not the same, but as a Boomer Babe, I’ve learned deal with the cards I’m currently being dealt.

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