You know in old movies how they show rapidly flipping calendar pages to denote time passing? My calendar is doing that right now. Yesterday I was 30. In less than two weeks I will be 50. Older than my parents were when I met my husband. My daughter is older now than I was when I married Steve. I used to be the kid in every crowd. My nurse practicioner is younger than I am. Young whippersnappers call me ma’am every now and then What the heck is that all about?
I guess it’s not a bad thing, but when I think of myself I think of someone closer to 30 than 50, that’s all. I don’t mind the silver hair (I actually love that part!), and the crows feet don’t depress me, and I’m dealing with the weight gain but man…the effects of gravity…that just doesn’t seem fair. I never knew it was possible to sag in some of the places I am sagging.
There was a time, not so long ago, when I didn’t understand why people freaked out about aging. I looked forward to my croning, and I’m not sorry it’s here, but it feels like I’m just on the verge of figuring things out…I guess I just wish I had figured stuff out earlier, that’s all. Well, that and I wish I was the sort of person who believed in and could afford a bunch of cosmetic procedures (I’d lift everything below my lower lip…it’s not my face that bothers me!).
C’est la guerre. Hope I spelled that right.