When I thought about writing this blog, I knew exactly how I wanted to start it. I can't remember what it was, but trust me, it was fabulous. Witty, touching, a real audience-grabber. At least I think it was.
Bette Davis once said, "Gettin' old ain't for sissies." Or was it Paul Newman? I've heard both. Either way, these words become more applicable to me every day.
So, here are some signs that you are getting older:
Changing positions in bed is like making a 3 point turn. No matter what position you're in, SOMETHING hurts, so changing from your left side to your right has to be done in sections, with at least 3 seconds of recovery time before moving on to the next section. Add hot flashes and night sweats into the equation, and this epic saga takes place at least four times a night. (One of the pros to sleeping alone)
Watching an awards show is like being forced to view a police lineup for four hours, weeding through all the complete strangers until you find someone you recognize. When you finally do see someone you know, the first words out of your mouth are "Oh my God, when did he/she get so old?!" The horror is magnified when you realize the celebrity in question was born three months after you were.
Your schedule for the day determines whether or not you take your Lasix. I have sadly discovered that it does not matter if you had C-sections or not. Eventually, you WILL start peeing on yourself. The worst part is, you don't realize you have to go until it's an emergency, so if you ever see me making my way to the bathroom looking like one of the dancers in Michael Jackson's Thriller video, get the Hell out of the way.
Getting down on the floor makes you question all your life choices. Sure, when you got down there to play with your grandchild you were full of joy and hope, but thirty seconds later when that child has gotten bored with you and leaves for greener pastures, what are you left with? A screaming sciatic nerve and no one to help you up.
You feel an overwhelming urge to interject witty comments into strangers' conversation. Whether you're in the grocery store, waiting on line at the DMV, or laying side by side in the recovery room after your colonoscopy, you reach a certain age where you are convinced that everyone would benefit from your witty words of wisdom. Hospital curtain be damned, you've got something to say!
Leaving the house once you're home from work involves a full on decision tree. Is it simply an errand that can wait til tomorrow (or never)? No? Does it require travel by car after dark more than three stop lights away? No? Will there be food? Yes!....but is someone else paying for it? Yes. Ok I'll go, but it looks like it might rain, so we'll need to sit by a window because I can't see to drive in the dark when it rains.
You'd rather take a bath than a shower. This is because all of your muscles are sore, you don't want to be upright any longer than necessary, and a bath gives you an excuse to light that new soy candle you got from Grove Collaborative.
You collect soy candles from Grove Collaborative. In fact, the mere existence of a monthly delivery service of cleaning supplies, lavender sheet spray, trendy reusable storage bags, and of course, soy candles that smell like acorns is the Adam & Eve of the over-50 crowd.
You care less and less about how you appear in public. Makeup went out the window with COVID, but you have no idea how close I've come to going to Harris Teeter in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. It's just a matter of time.
It takes longer to get ready for bed than it does to go out.
Stay tuned for my Thanksgiving blog, where I will outline every ridiculous step we take to avoid conflict on our national day of thanks.
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