Aging With Grace?

I’m not sure that I’m aging with ‘grace’……….but I’m definitely aging with humor.  If I can’t laugh at what gravity has done to my body, then surely I will cry instead.

I wonder which is worse: the ravages of gravity on the body or the ravages of time on the mind?

I guess the body damage is worse because it’s visibly evident to me as well as to others.  The mind damage isn’t immediately apparent at least, and that’s something to be grateful for, huh?

My eyesight has taken a leave of absence these days.  I wear bifocal contact lenses & I still had to use a magnifying glass this morning to read the color on my lipstick tube.

When I look in my 4X magnifying mirror at my face, I can feel a piercing scream building up in my throat.  Who in his right mind would buy a 4X magnifying mirror to actually view her FACE in?  One who would prefer NOT to have a unibrow & has to see the hairs that need to be plucked out I suppose.

I don’t just have a crow’s foot or two on either side of my eyes, my 4X magnifying mirror informs me I have a whole MURDER of them.

So, I finally decided to go through with Lasik surgery on my eyes a few weeks ago.  Sadly, now I can see how old I've actually gotten.

Sigh.

After losing 100 lbs, to say I have even more loose skin than the average 54 year old woman would be an understatement.  My upper arms, or Batwings as I not-so-lovingly call them, take flight on their own these days.

I started going gray at 28 years old and if you’d like to know why, you’ll have to read my  blog about my first-born child entitled Who Was the LIAR That Said Motherhood Is Fun?  So I’ve used L’Oreal Preference for the past 26 years because, hey, I’m Worth It and redheads DO have more fun than blondes.  At first, I would pluck out my gray hairs as they showed up, one at a time.  Not too long after starting that little habit, I noticed I was going bald.  That’s when 5MB made its debut into my life and hair color has been a monthly practice ever since.

Another sign of my advancing age is my body temperature, which fluctuates even more than the stock market these days.  I lie down in bed and get all comfy under the covers.  Within 2 minutes, I’m sweating bullets and throwing the covers off of my damp body.  I get up to put the overhead fan on……..the one my husband calls Hurricane Christine. I lie back down in bed and sign with relief………Ah……..that’s better!  Within 2 minutes, I’m freezing to death and yanking the covers up over my shivering body.  My teeth stop chattering the moment my poor body is hit with a hot flash.  My hair is slicked down to my scalp within a few minutes, saturated with perspiration from the 14 hot flashes that followed the first teaser.  I look over at my husband peacefully snoring away and I honestly feel like strangling him.

Obviously, God put women on the earth to suffer and men to live comfortably without night sweats, hot flashes, menopause, Aunt Flo and cramps, childbirth, C-Sections and episiotomies, swollen-with-milk-and-tender-as-hell breasts, hormones, PMS, or violent mood swings that may or may not be associated with PMSD which should NOT be confused with PMS.  They don’t have to worry about which birth control device may or may not kill them, disfigure their babies, or prevent them from HAVING babies, period.

Sorry for getting a bit carried away there folks…………….

So, aside from hot flashes, night sweats & waking up every 90 minutes due to fluctuating body temperatures, I sleep like a baby.  Thank goodness old age hasn’t affected THAT part of my life, huh?

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Another sign of my advancing age is my need for a bra that lifts and manages to hold UP the girls.  If they were left on their own, they’d be grazing my ankles these days so Playtex, I’m giving YOU a run for your money.  You haven’t managed to invent the ‘right’ bra to do the job it promises.  And, if you have, I have NOT managed to find it, in spite of trying on 1,232 models at 17 different stores over the past few months.

For some aging problems, apparently there IS no ‘answer.’

Take, for instance, my memory, or lack of memory is more like it.  Have I told you about all the trouble I’ve had finding a bra to do the serious job I need it TO do?

Oh. Oops.

It’s just my short term memory that requires me to purchase a case of Post-It notes every month.  If it wasn’t for those little yellow stickies, I’d forget my own phone numbers …..all 3 of them.

Sigh.

But getting old is not all misery and forgetfulness.  In the midst of all the nuisances, there is a whole lot more freedom.  Freedom from trying to look perfect, wisdom from all the years of built up scar tissue from making so many mistakes, grown children who no longer Hoover the very life out of me, and no worries about feminine pads, PMS, or which birth control will actually BE effective this month.  I’d like to think I’ve earned every wrinkle on my face, and that each one represents another bit of knowledge and understanding.

Yes, it’s great to be 20, but 54 ain’t so bad either.  If I could go back in time to recapture my youth, I’m not sure I would.  After all, if youth is wasted on the young, then old age should be appreciated by the rest of us! I think I’ll stay right where I am, wrinkles & all!