|Photo courtesy of the Bean. I love the cover of this album.|
I recently celebrated my forty-fifth birthday. I am now halfway to fifty! If you know me, you know this is how my brain works. I am halfway between forty and fifty. Get it? In light of turning a year older, I decided to share some thoughts about aging.
First thing is that it hits you right in the cussing face. One day you are young, carefree and limber, the next, you are grunting as you get out of bed. It shocked me how quickly my body betrayed me. Most of you might remember me moaning about the “Capture the Flag” debacle but for those of you who haven’t heard my whining, here’s the story. A bunch of my students wanted to play “Capture the Flag.” I think, “I am in! I will be a beast out there.” I certainly had a blast playing but it took me three weeks to recover and two weeks to stop walking with a limp. What the heck?
I guess I am at the stage where stretching is foreplay. You think I am joking. I am not. However, I do want to grow old gracefully (and feisty!) How in the world do you do that when your hormones are bi-polar and your eyebrows are greying faster than you can pluck them? Well…? I am waiting for an answer.
I have the privilege of working with young people. I often feel like I am one of them. Until one of them says I remind them of their mom. Oh, that’s right, I could have birthed them. Most of them were born the year I got married…twenty years ago. Sheesh.
|This is a 45 record for those of you who haven’t a clue. The title is appropriate because you do this a lot as you age.|
I joke and I kid about it, but there is a part of me that isn’t transitioning all that well. And honestly, there is a part of me that is plotting how to go through menopause with as much gusto as possible. As if.
The B side is the BEST side, right? As I push fifty, I see the best is yet to come. One day I will not give a crap what people think (doesn’t that happen with old age?) or what the scale says. I will be the feisty old lady with a nose ring and dyed eyebrows. I will be wearing Doc Martens. And I will still be playing “Capture the Flag” wearing panty liners and downing the Advil for days after. I will still be having fabulous sex with my beloved, albeit after we stretch. I will probably still be sad that my dark brown curls are turned silvery grey. I might not care that my face is etched with wrinkles and sun damage. I will look back at the life I was given and count my freakin’ blessings. I’ve heard it said that there is beauty in a life well lived. Oh, I want in on that, don’t you?
What’s your plan for growing old gracefully?