I have a birthday coming up this month. And as I reflect on adding yet another candle to a cake that’s more candle wax than frosting, I realize that I have become what author, Gail Sheehy has coined a ‘seasoned’ woman.

According to Sheehy, a seasoned woman is a person ‘who has been marinated in life experience.’ Combined of many flavors—spicy, mellow, sweet and tart, the seasoned woman has finally shrugged off society’s mores, along with its dictates about who she should be, to finally discovering who she really is. The seasoned woman is often in her late 40’s, 50s and even older coming into my own – reinventing herself as it were. 
In truth, every career choice from my twenty-one years spent in the military, where I spent the first six weeks on my hands and knees, toothbrush in hand cleaning grout from restroom tiles, to where I once got too close for comfort to buffalo on the roam when I was stationed in South Dakota, and wondering what I’d do if the deer and antelope also decided to come out to play before I found my way out of the state park. My short stint as a mental health counselor (due to moving overseas), long tenure as an educator has contributed to this reality. Finally realizing a life-long dream of becoming a published author, my life has come full circle. With it has come a sense of purpose as well as the re-igniting of passions long suppressed. With it has come my fervent desire to live by my own rules.

For instance, over the years I’ve had my ears pierced, not just one hole in each ear, but two in one and three in the other. I’ve worn white after Labor Day, and eaten chocolate cake for breakfast --simply because I wanted to. Frequently I’ve drank wine before it has had a chance to breathe. 
Other lessons have been hard won. Through the years, I’ve walked in the pumps of the lovelorn and let others’ slights roll off my back like water. I’ve turned the other cheek, and let the chips fall. Scotched has helped, so has a few M&Ms tossed in – for good measure. 

Coming into my own has meant learning to laugh at myself and my lessons learned. Things like remembering to take my panty hose out of the freezer after a few minutes of placing them in there. Someone told me that the cold temperature prevented them from running so easily. However, I forgot and left them in there for 2 days. They might have remained there even longer had my husband not reached in there to discover said panty hose caressing a T-bone steak. To this day I fail to see what the big deal was, after all they were brand new, still in the pack, and not a pair that I’d already worn. As I add another digit to half a century of living, I’ll celebrate being a seasoned woman. For at long last I’ve become the person I always knew I was destined to become.