Do these dice make me look fat?

So it's about that time of year again.

I attend ONE Con, although that might change this next winter as I will probably end up going to Con of the North.

But I digress.

The first weekend in July (around the fourth and whatnot), here in my fair city of Minneapolis, there is a Con.

Ah, yes. For those of you who don't know what a Con is, let me explain.

First, the dictionary says:

CONVENTION

Pronunciation: \kən-ˈven(t)-shən\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French or Latin; Middle French, from Latin convention-, conventio, from convenire
Date: 15th century
1 a : agreement, contract b : an agreement between states for regulation of matters affecting all of them c : a compact between opposing commanders especially concerning prisoner exchange or armistice d : a general agreement about basic principles or procedures; also : a principle or procedure accepted as true or correct by convention
2 a : the summoning or convening of an assembly b : an assembly of persons met for a common purpose; especially : a meeting of the delegates of a political party for the purpose of formulating a platform and selecting candidates for office c : the usually state or national organization of a religious denomination
3 a : usage or custom especially in social matters b : a rule of conduct or behavior c : a practice in bidding or playing that conveys information between partners in a card game (as bridge) d : an established technique, practice, or device (as in the theater)

Wow. Learn a new thing every day, huh?

So anyway, THIS particular Convention is called CONvergence and it's the meeting of the minds, as it were. A meeting of all things Science Fiction and fantasy and a mash up of movies and tv and comics and gaming and anime and fan clubs and music and art and...and...and...well, just a whole bunch of cool stuff.

Of course, when it involves all sorts of alcoholic drinks and licentious behavior, the meeting of the minds becomes a wee bit...muddled, shall we say.

There was a time, long, long ago when I attended a Con, running around in outfits that would definitely have me arrested in a small town. And then, I'd be starring in my very own Prison Love Movie. *cough*

But I'm supposed to be a responsible person, now, and besides, I'm bringing my two sons to CON this year and I would rather not have them horrified by anything that *I* might do.

So this year, I am going to be a Good Girl (for those who know me, I can see your eyes rolling. Yes, I can).

Then there's the other little Matter.

I have discovered that even though I have pretty awesome genetics, Father Time is an asshole.

And I have a burning hatred for Photoshop when used to make a person something that isn't real. Also, for magazines that show pictures of people who are inhumanly beautiful. Perfect. Skin, hair, face, body.

Let's not even get onto the subject that anyone who is a say, size 6 or above is invisible, sexless, and unattractive. Yes, let's not.

As it is, I'm rather reluctant to run around like Sheena of the Jungle when my version of Sheena is someone who's wearing nicely around the edges.

I should be OK about this but let's be honest. I'm not. I'm not crazy about the fact that my middle makes me look like a koala bear. Or that I have discovered cellulite on my thighs. And other places. Or that my underarms are now doing that crazy chicken dance. And then there's my breasts.

Last year, I got all excited because I thought that somehow, my breasts got bigger. To give you an idea, I can shop for bras in the girls' section at Target. So you can imagine my delight when I thought that I had gone up a size. I had some cleavage. Well, it was there, honest, it was.

And then, I realized that what happened was that some of the firmness in my top shelf...well, it eroded.

So I'm not a perky A cup. I'm like a semi enthusiastic almost B cup. That's cheating, I'm sure.

But to go on...

I'm happy that I've decided to stop colouring my hair...at least, with normal colours. I'm getting silver strands and it actually looks kind of cool. Of course, I keep wishing that it would materialize into a Grendelesque streak. Or be more like Kitty Pryde's. Alas....no.

But it still looks kinda neat so until I have the funds to dye my hair with dark blue and light blue highlights (because it would look wicked cool), I'm content to let my hair silver naturally.

I have plans, of course, as far as my traitorous body is concerned. They involve lifting weights to tone my arms (and to make those chickens roost, damn it). And to go swimming. And to go on bicycle rides.

All those neat things. Although, I DO see a bit of a logistical problem with getting into a swimsuit without feeling like I should immediately tie a handkerchief around my eyes and ask for a cigarette...

Still. I can either whine about my body or I can do something about it. I'd much rather do something about it.

And yet, I am careful with this because I realize that I've been swallowing the same poison that other women and girls have also been swallowing for years. That expectation that I should look a certain way. I know the fountain of youth has been desired since almost the beginning of time....but I also know that somehow, becoming older and *gasp* showing one's age is repugnant and wrong.

And that's wrong. If I'm going to age, then I'm going to age gracefully and not worry if my body or my face shows my age. I'd like to think it also shows my wisdom, shows my life experiences, shows the heart ache and the triumphs....a whole story, a whole catalogue of stories, writ upon my face and my hands...my body and myself and I shouldn't feel ashamed.

So while I want to look toned and "in shape"...I don't want to try and be something I'm not. I don't want to be foolish and grasp at an age that has gone by. I'm no longer that 20 something girl.

So this CON, I'm not going to be afraid to show my age. There's more to me than my face and my figure. And I'm not going to feel inferior to those young women whose bodies are what mine used to be. It's OK. My friends and Chosen Family Love me for me. I know for sure my sons and my Awesome Guy do.

It shouldn't have taken me this long to figure that out.



K.