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Happy Birthday to my mom! The following in no way represents you, Mother. As usual, it’s all about me. ;-)


When did that happen??

I find it vexing that the onset of wisdom collided almost precisely to the minute with the reverse of my body’s gravitational direction. I thought I understood the aging process pretty well, but I expected it to happen gradually. Instead, it seems like just last week I was feeling pretty svelte and just last night when I rolled over in bed, different parts of my body actually shifted separately.

It was a little scary. Matter of fact, it was unsettling enough to get me out of bed to write this at four a.m.

And now that I’m up I might as well go to the bathroom. It’s a preventative thing. Even if I don’t actually need to go now it just might save me a trip later.

I love to sleep, but my uninterrupted eight-hour nights are over forever, that much has become clear. Since these nocturnal visits (yes, that’s PLURAL) began rather gradually I won’t complain too bitterly about that.

But age spots? What an insult. I’m not old! Nonetheless, these last few months my skin has been turning on me. And we all know the skin is the body’s largest organ. Imagine my consternation over my ample bosom. The relentless plunge toward my knees is bad enough…do I have to worry about them turning color and texture too??

And here’s irony for you: on my very recent 47th birthday I arose to find a huge blemish on my cheek, right under my left eye. Three weeks later it’s just now beginning to subside. I tried to attack it only to find that my facial skin has turned to paper. It looked like someone had smacked me in the face for days. I know, because I visited my 90-something grandfather who asked me who hit me.

Now there’s a benefit of age. The older you get, the more acceptable it is to speak your mind. I kind of wish he’d quit introducing me to the other residents of his retirement home as “blabber mouth” though.

But seriously, acne at my age is ridiculous. Pimples should not erupt in skin that’s too old to squeeze, that’s just not right. I went from break out to break down with no clear sailing in between.

Of course my eyesight is going, so I have a pair of reading glasses. I hardly ever need them, but the last time I had them on was apparently the first time I’d seen my own hands in quite some time because they were covered in someone else’s wrinkles. I was appalled. And I promptly did something about that. I’ve stopped wearing those glasses. I didn’t really enjoy reading all that much anyway.

I guess.

What was I talking about anyway? I lost my train of thought.

But that’s a whole ‘nother story.