We all do it. Every one of us is getting old. Racing along the road to the dirt nap we will all take one day. From the moment we are born, we start dying. Now, THAT'S a pleasant thought. Take that along with you today to lift your spirits. But, it's true. Nobody lives forever and childhood is the shortest span of time in our lives. Which is why those of you too foolish to have enjoyed it seem to be the ones acting like children now. You are the people currently having mid-life crises. Humiliating the shit out of yourselves, dressing like teenagers, behaving like you are in your early 20s, and acting like total assholes. Right after you figured out that getting old blows gnarly chunks, you attempted to recapture the essence of your youth. Don't bother, chode. There are reasons that kids have all that fun and are able to function the next day. They CAN! You, on the other hand, are old. Your body has an embarrassingly long recovery time, which is why you shouldn't be acting like a fucking child. Break a hip and it's basically over. File that one away.
Parts of getting old are pretty goddamn awesome. Menopause is a biggie on that list. Ladies, follow along with me for a minute. I know you are going to rip me a new asshole for romanticizing the glory that is our change of life. You will bemoan the hot flashes, the night sweats, the forgetfulness, the mood swings, and I will call bullshit. I'm going through an early menopause and I can assure you, the pros far outweigh the cons. Two words: period cessation. I win. To revisit my entry about the tampon commercials, my period has never been my friend, has never been that "feel like dancing" kind of time, and basically has caused me more sleepless nights than when my daughter was first born. Bitch all you want about menopause, I'm gonna love it and hug it and squeeze it.
Along the ride down the death highway comes a certain amount of wisdom. You can actually say, "Been there, done that" because you have! A mind filled with memories and experiences you can share with others, regaling the younger generation with stories about our glory days. We had to listen to it when we were their ages, I feel like it's MY turn now. I can start every sentence with, "When I was your age" for an entire day and not run out of material. No glazed looks allowed, listen with the same rapt attention I was forced to and smile and nod in all the right places, bitches. You haven't earned the right to comment or compare notes. Shut your pie hole or I'll be forced to slap duct tape over it.You'll get your turn in 20-30 years. Meanwhile, show some respect.
There are some negative aspects of attempting to age with some amount of grace. Needing to hold the menu out in front of you the entire length of your arm while squinting doesn't scream young and attractive, I know. I wear glasses for reading and refuse to carry them with me to a restaurant. No one else needs to know I can't see a fucking thing. I'll struggle and adjust the position of the menu over and over until I can see just enough to order food. The eye doctor mentioned the possibility of a need for progressive lenses by next year. That's HOT! That will mean wearing them all the fucking time. Christ on the cross, that's just what I need. My brain may be nerdy, but on the outside, I'm pretty damn fabulous. Guess I'll have to choose frames carefully and rock the sexy librarian look when the time comes. I'll wear my hair up and strategically let it down throughout the day with a choreographed hair toss that'll make whores blush.
Aches and pains in muscles I had no idea existed makes waking up a nightmare. When did this start and who do I contact? I didn't sign up for this. I can't even wash my hair until I've cracked my knuckles and all the other joints necessary to lather up. Then, of course, I have to crack my neck...on both sides. Unless, of course, I only want to look forward all day long. Driving would be a bitch. My back always feels like it needs immediate chiropractic adjustment. Having been a chiropractic assistant, I can crack my back, and yours, with great proficiency. I just don't enjoy HAVING to each and every day. Nothing says old fart quite like squatting down to talk to a child and having both knees crack so loudly the kid actually looks stunned and asks what that noise was. Every time.
I just can't stay up as late as I used to, which was practically all night long. A night owl for most of my life, I shunned the early morning hours with a passion. Now, I still shun the early morning but for a different reason. I am so friggin tired. There's not a movie around that can keep me awake till the credits. Renting a movie at my house consists of popping the DVD in, getting settled on the couch, watching the movie for as long as I can with both eyes fully open, and then crashing like a lead balloon. Straining to keep my eyes open, I'll crack my knuckles over and over for something to focus on while blinking really, really hard. Adjusting my ass on the cushion, refolding the blanket across my legs, stretching a little bit, and again, blinking really, really hard. My whole family knows this little charade and waits like snipers for me to take the long blink. You know, the one where you think you've just closed your eyes for a few seconds, but actually you've fallen totally asleep? Sometimes, I'm lucky enough to startle myself awake fast enough and nobody notices. Unfortunately, this doesn't happen often enough. That's when the bastards snap into action. My daughter will either elbow or kick me, depending on her distance from me on the couch. My husband will choose that moment to scream like a psycho to scare the living shit out of me AND wake me up so that I can enjoy the movie, or so he claims. I think it's just their way of getting me back for the evils they perceive to have experienced by living with the joy that is me.
Does anyone else take quite as many pills as I do each day? Sweet baby Jesus, it takes a good five minutes to lay them out on the counter at night before I go to bed. Counting, sorting, remembering which ones are morning and which are evening doses. Glucosamine for the creaking joints, Vitamin D for bone health, Iron because having tsunami periods for so long left me anemic, a multivitamin just because, Estroven for the aging uterus, B-12 to aid in iron absorption, and the list goes on. I can't wait till I have even more pills and can buy one of those fancy pill holders that have drawers labeled with the days of the week. That's when I'll know I have officially arrived.
Eating is a challenge as you get older, don't deny it. The things you loved in your prime, now don't love you back anymore. I could eat like a horse and think nothing of it. Back in the day, I had a fairly cooperative metabolism. Now that it has slowed down to a crawl, I have to rely on tracking points, Weight Watchers-style just so my clothing continues to fit. Can't just scarf a Snickers on the way home from work and wash it down with a bag of Doritos and a beer these days. Nope. Chugging coffee and snacking on an apple, oh yeah, I live like a fucking Queen. What really sucks is not being able to eat loads of garlic and onions anymore. I could chop heads, not cloves, heads of garlic into a dish and eat it with great voracity with NO ramifications beyond rancid breath. The same went for onions, and I am talking about raw onions. If I did that now, I can guarantee how the rest of my night is gonna go down. Me, grabbing my stomach and running to the toilet where I will spend an inordinate amount of time, suffering on the throne instead of enjoying the evening with the rest of my family. Good thing I love to read.
Luckily, I only have approximately 3 or so gray hairs. They grow at my temples and as soon as they are spotted they are violently plucked out and tossed away. What I do have, much to my complete and total dismay are forehead wrinkles. I hate them with all the venomous, bile-spewing hate inside me. Face creams, wrinkle serums, exfoliation products all fail me in my crusade against the evil face folds. Not that I've given up and don't use these things anymore. Oh, I do. Regularly and with a little prayer included. I know that there is the option of Botox and that it also magically rids you of migraines, which would be a trip to paradise for me. However, the concept of having needles stabbed into the very thin skin between my eyes, over and over, has absolutely no appeal to me. Yes, I have tattoos so it's not as though I have a deep-seated fear of needles and other sharp objects. But in the face?!?! That's beyond insane and at the pinnacle of vanity, so no thank you.
Looking forward to the senior discounts, just not to looking like I'm eligible. Definitely, looking forward to retiring and becoming the newest Golden Girl, maybe not while wearing the gaudy, floral clothing. I'll be the old broad in hot pink leggings and AC/DC shirt wearing "fuck me" boots. Is getting older all bad? Hell no. Can it be a painful bitch? Holy shit, yeah. Does it have its privileges? When I was your age, I knew not to ask so many goddamn questions. Am I gonna age with grace or am I gonna go down kicking and screaming, throwing up the rock sign? Are you friggin kidding me right now?
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