This aging thing is kicking my butt. No one prepares us for it. Would we have listened if there was training for the Golden Years? Probably not. And receiving multiple invitations weekly to join AARP arrive a little too late to be considered preparation. Boom, you’re old, and because you have gotten this far in life we are going to give you a free tote bag! What does a tote bag have to do with aging?
Yesterday, my body, and specifically my bones, were much younger. I’m sure it was yesterday, or maybe it was last week. I don’t remember. And that’s another thing – the memory. Information is all right there like fruit hanging from a tree that I sometimes can’t quite reach. And, even if I could reach the fruit, the effort would cause discomfort somewhere in my body. The bones and the memory – these are only the tip of the iceberg.
Since Chardonnay, our Yorkie, started having seizures, we put thick exercise mats around the bed in case she has a seizure during the night. At least if she fell off the bed she would land on the mat. I never was one to bound out of bed, but I could get out of bed gracefully enough. Now, getting out of bed is an exercise in contorting so as not to injure myself without falling onto the floor. The other night as we were laying out the mats, my smart-mouthed husband said the mats served a dual purpose. Neither Char nor I would get hurt if we fell out of bed. Very funny. Oh wait, I forgot to laugh – on purpose.
Gravity takes its toll – and not only in the falling department. Formerly perky parts of one’s anatomy sag and bag, and then spread. The struggle is real. There are multiple avenues to assist with the sag, bag, and spread. I could work out, I suppose, but in reality, it doesn’t do much overall, and who wants to huff and puff anyway? I did all that decades ago. Jazzercise, step aerobics, dance aerobics, kickboxing workouts, you name it, I did it. Despite all of it, the sag, bag, and spread still happened. Cosmetic surgery is an option. Every day I see commercials for local plastic surgeons who claim to slow the ravages of age – on the outside at least. A tuck here, a squirt of botox there, and before we know it, the sag and bag are frozen in place and we look like mannequins. I wonder how many times we can tuck and botox parts of the anatomy back into place?
Growing old gracefully. Now, there’s a concept bound to make anyone feel better about themselves in a youth-driven culture. We convince ourselves we have exchanged formerly firm and functioning bodies for accumulated wisdom, then venture out into the world. We feel pretty darn good about ourselves, until a youngster says, “What can I get for you, sweetie?” “Let’s start with a glass of prune juice, please, and a side of botox…..”
Laughter is good for the soul