Oh, shit! I have old-lady skin! I have varicose views and saggy sections where muscles used to ripple. I’m pretty sure that is a wart on my big toe and suddenly the veins in my hands look like something a drug addict would admire. All those years of baking in the sun marinated in a mixture of baby oil and mercurochrome have left odd, dark patches. When did checking the magnifying mirror for stray chin hairs while checking email and sipping coffee become part of my morning routine? When did this happen? Can it be reversed? Oh shit oh shit oh…
Wait, how long did I really expect these shiny factory parts to last without showing some wear and tear. (or should it be where? and tears?) Now stop! We have always cracked black jokes about our elders who fixated on physical decay to the point it ruled their conversations. I refuse to discuss my maturation as decline.
This getting old sucks. Or does it? Can’t I put a happy, baby-boomer-spin on the fact that I am looking over my shoulder at the golden age of youth? Damn it, I’m the ‘Hare-Krishna-find-the-silver-lining, coming-of-age-in-The Age of Aquarius’ Queen! Suck it up.
Living with twenty-somethings is enlightening. I have a fairly well documented account of what I was like in my twenties and I can honestly say, no one could have guided or predicted the outcome. Thankfully. So while I dutifully accept that I can not make a dent in the direction of their lives, I dwell on what was like to have all that living ahead of you, yet feeling the need to be further along. This is not an easy age of Aquarius, or Sagittarius or whatever age it is.
I hate that I need to know where at least one pair of glasses is at all times, and that they are constantly smeary. It feels like the photographs are slightly out of focus. I love that my view of life’s frost heaves and pot holes remind me simply that another season is just around the corner; swerve and weave through them and your chassis will hold up better. Wash the bird poop off regularly and garage the vehicle when possible. I could say frequent oil changes would be a good thing, but you might take that as a blatant plug for the store…
Is it 8pm yet? Can I legally go to bed without feeling ancient?
Therapeutic Misadventures 
I love this! You said it better than anyone! Thanks for making me smile first thing in the morning!
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Thanks Annie! Glad you got a giggle, no sense being anything but slightly annoyed over what age does to us!
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Yeah, I’m hearing you. The list of odd and disgusting minor ailments grows daily. The eyes shut completely on their own after 10 pm and no amount of stimulus helps. BUT we’re HERE. And you never know what could happen next.
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And so it goes, Chris. We can fight it or find humor.
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Can it be reversed? No. As the saying goes, growing old is not for sissies. But I start every day with 30 minutes of meditation and I start that by being thankful for another day and having the health, strength, and energy to enjoy it. There are far too many people who would give anything to have another day of heath and strength. Or another day, period. Saying this helps to put the rest of it in perspective.
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Thanks Aline. Being mindful is important and keeping a sense of humor is key.
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