Good News: I’m not shrinking

Dear Boomers,

     I’ve been remiss in not writing in my blog.  I had an assignment.   An agent was interested in my book, SO YOU’RE 6O, GET OVER IT: CONFESSIONS OF A BEATNIK/BOOMER, and she wanted a full book proposal.  I’ve been avoiding writing it for a month but, since an agent requested one, I had to hunker down and do it.  It took me days.  I usually don’t have writer’s block because I am genetically predisposed to talking and writing, but my resistance was based on principle and laziness and not ability.  I did it.  It’s done.  If any other agent asks for a book proposal, I have it.
     The good news is I’m on letter M in the alphabet in my search for an agent.  Sometimes I cheap and take my divining rod and select a random out of order agent, say a T agent or an R agent.  That’s my rebellious side.
      But even better news is that I don’t have osteroporosis.  My bones aren’t shrinking.  In fact, I am above average in my bone density.  I am thrilled.  But more importantly, my doctor was so happy over the phone when he left me the message.  He was practically giddy.  He thought for sure I was shrinking – “you skinny, white woman, you” he must have been thinking.  I told him I teach yoga and I was not at risk.  “Yeah, yeah,” he brushed me off.  Maybe he’ll believe me when I tell him that the benefits of yoga for good health out-flank drugs by intergalactic miles.
     I was walking on air all week.  You’d think I’d fallen in love.  I have no idea why I was so happy about my strong skeleton.  Of course, I’m a yoga instructor and teach all day every day and why would I have thinning bones.  You never know, however.  My mother at 97 has skrunk to less than 5 feet and 80 pounds.  Her spine is so curved she cannot stand up.  I don’t want to end up like that at 97.  I’ll just be in my prime at 97, ready for love and sex and more travel.  
     I also saw my dentist this week.  He’s been in love with me for over 25 years.  He keeps hoping I’ll have an affair with him even though I told him years ago that I don’t “do” married men.  One of those in a lifetime is sufficient, thank you.  But he keeps giving me free teeth cleaning in the hopes I’ll succumb.  Not only will I not succumb, I keep taking the free teeth cleaning.  We have no one to go when my dentist is conducting the every four months conversation with me, like do I have a boyfriend (NO!) or am I dating (No!).  “Why not?” he asks.  “Not interested,” I respond.  He looks sad.  I hide my lies behind my positive smile.
     Question:  Do I miss the sex or do I miss the company of a man?  
     I went tango dancing last night.  It’s my weekly milonga (place where we go to dance Argentine tango) and saw an old maestro of mine.  He was splendid at 70.  And he just divorced his wife this last year and they were married unhappily for over 20 years.  Funny about life and people.  I couldn’t figure out why he was so vibrant and alive and sexy.  Damn!  He was single again.  We danced, and then he said to me in Spanish, “You’re happy, aren’t you?”  Thank God I understood him quickly.  “Yes, por su puestro, Fecundo.”  “I thought so,” he said in Spanish.  “So am I.”  It was a perfect exchange to a lovely evening.
     More later,
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