It isn't that the shampoo coming out of the bottle is the color blue, or that there are now two sets of parenthesis near my mouth, or that college graduates look like 8th graders. It isn't any of that.
It is the simple fact that older does not mean platittudes like better, nor does it mean smarter, nor does it mean more beautiful. It merely means that the morning assessment begins with, ah yes, still breathing. Then it doesn't matter that one foot will not do anything but gripe the second I put it on the floor and the other will curl the toes without waiting for permission from my brain. And it also doesn't matter that the first look in the mirror reminds me that my curly hair left town and was replaced by some fake straight stuff that stands up crinkled and devoid of color like an old fashioned french fry that was forgotten in the back of the freezer. And it doesn't matter that the only thing that makes all the creaky stiff joints pliable again is a hot shower.
By then I can resume humanity and appear almost normal. I have come to make the morning as least complicated as possible. Pulling on the black clothing, shirt, pants, even the undies, makes the chore of dressing a non thinking one. If I had to pull together things that matched, or coordinated outfits, I would likely either look like I was totally colorblind, making a new fashion statement for the senior baby boomers, or go mad. There is a reason that 99.9% of my wardrobe is black. It is easy. And if I suddenly find myself uprooted and beamed from sunny California to let's say, NYC or Paris, I will fit right in.
You think it is easy getting old? It certainly might be easier than an algebra exam, or fixing the Hubble, or finding my car keys. It is also easier than the alternative, which is gobs of plastic surgery. There are parts to it that come upon you when you are least expecting it. Let's talk about failing memory, for instance. Yes. Let's talk about failing memory some other time when I can remember what I was going to talk about.
And don't forget the facial lines. They say that chubby people (me) look younger longer because of the fat. Well, goody. I knew there was a reason that being chubby was worthwhile. But it does catch up, and now I have double parenthesis on my face where only a single set resided a year ago. I woke up one day and thought perhaps they were simply sleep wrinkles. Nope. And I still don't understand algebra any better now that the double thing is there. An equation inside an equation. I've used a magnifying glass and I still don't see the formula. In any case, those lines that crop up need extra attention. If you don't get the facial cleanser or moisturizer in there, you end up with a face within a face. One looks cared for, and the other looks like abandoned real estate.
Don't get me started on the feet. They've worked for more than a half century except when they didn't. And that was when they were shoved into shoes too small for the toes. I have permanently curled toes because of that and for a while they recovered. But now they are back doing that incessant curl which makes putting on shoes a challenge. Like having two -story-tall toes. Try finding a toe box for that! I'll take that Jimmy Cho with a two story toe box please as I get laughed out of the store. I didn't even get to mention that I need those in a size 12.
Chubby also means you have some padding in your hands which gives them a youngish look far longer than they should be allowed by the rules of aging. Mine looked pretty good until about a month ago. Now I see pores and a few wrinkles showing up and a faint spot or two. My finger nails grow like crazy which means something. I don't know what, but it cannot be good. Don't dead people's finger nails grow like crazy after they die?
Just great. Perhaps that is why my Internet connection is so slow? Google hasn't wired up here yet? So dial-up does have meaning.
It is the simple fact that older does not mean platittudes like better, nor does it mean smarter, nor does it mean more beautiful. It merely means that the morning assessment begins with, ah yes, still breathing. Then it doesn't matter that one foot will not do anything but gripe the second I put it on the floor and the other will curl the toes without waiting for permission from my brain. And it also doesn't matter that the first look in the mirror reminds me that my curly hair left town and was replaced by some fake straight stuff that stands up crinkled and devoid of color like an old fashioned french fry that was forgotten in the back of the freezer. And it doesn't matter that the only thing that makes all the creaky stiff joints pliable again is a hot shower.
By then I can resume humanity and appear almost normal. I have come to make the morning as least complicated as possible. Pulling on the black clothing, shirt, pants, even the undies, makes the chore of dressing a non thinking one. If I had to pull together things that matched, or coordinated outfits, I would likely either look like I was totally colorblind, making a new fashion statement for the senior baby boomers, or go mad. There is a reason that 99.9% of my wardrobe is black. It is easy. And if I suddenly find myself uprooted and beamed from sunny California to let's say, NYC or Paris, I will fit right in.
You think it is easy getting old? It certainly might be easier than an algebra exam, or fixing the Hubble, or finding my car keys. It is also easier than the alternative, which is gobs of plastic surgery. There are parts to it that come upon you when you are least expecting it. Let's talk about failing memory, for instance. Yes. Let's talk about failing memory some other time when I can remember what I was going to talk about.
And don't forget the facial lines. They say that chubby people (me) look younger longer because of the fat. Well, goody. I knew there was a reason that being chubby was worthwhile. But it does catch up, and now I have double parenthesis on my face where only a single set resided a year ago. I woke up one day and thought perhaps they were simply sleep wrinkles. Nope. And I still don't understand algebra any better now that the double thing is there. An equation inside an equation. I've used a magnifying glass and I still don't see the formula. In any case, those lines that crop up need extra attention. If you don't get the facial cleanser or moisturizer in there, you end up with a face within a face. One looks cared for, and the other looks like abandoned real estate.
Don't get me started on the feet. They've worked for more than a half century except when they didn't. And that was when they were shoved into shoes too small for the toes. I have permanently curled toes because of that and for a while they recovered. But now they are back doing that incessant curl which makes putting on shoes a challenge. Like having two -story-tall toes. Try finding a toe box for that! I'll take that Jimmy Cho with a two story toe box please as I get laughed out of the store. I didn't even get to mention that I need those in a size 12.
Chubby also means you have some padding in your hands which gives them a youngish look far longer than they should be allowed by the rules of aging. Mine looked pretty good until about a month ago. Now I see pores and a few wrinkles showing up and a faint spot or two. My finger nails grow like crazy which means something. I don't know what, but it cannot be good. Don't dead people's finger nails grow like crazy after they die?
Just great. Perhaps that is why my Internet connection is so slow? Google hasn't wired up here yet? So dial-up does have meaning.
Comments
I'm so familiar with the word "chubby". I'm also far too familiar with getting old. --rated--
Thanks mmm. Humm...seems to have a paper cut, getting stuck without a feed.
((I love you!))
xoxo
xoxo
Very funny. Too bad their isn't a surgery or injectable for the memory loss thing. You know what would be nice? A surgery or injectable for the memory loss thing. Did I tell you? I was thinking that it would be nice if there was a surgery or injectable for the memory loss thing.
GAAAWD!. Really, I now start every conversation with the words: Have I told you this already? And as my one friend almost always replies (and she is 10 years younger than me!) "I wouldn't remember."
GAAAWD!. Really, I now start every conversation with the words: Have I told you this already? And as my one friend almost always replies (and she is 10 years younger than me!) "I wouldn't remember."
oh, sweetie, this shit must be in the ether. both lisa kern and i wrote about the chubby thing recently and the aging thing also. you wrote this beautifully. MAH, hilarious about the memory adn the "have i told you this already?" i get fed up and sad about it too, but, i don't know, i'm still pretty cute for a fat old babe. what i do is look in the mirror for a while, until i can accept what i see and feel love for it. sounds corny, i know. but your body has gotten you through a whole lot. so has your face. and when you accept what is there, well, then you can eat healthier or get retina or whatever and it's not coming from an "im so fat and old" place. it's just what helps me, having bought pro-retinol carp a few days ago. :)
now, i'm completely heartsick. i just posted a post about sex and hardly anyone showed up!!!! i'm so freaking sad. it's a really erally really good post and i never say that, as you guys know.
please read it and if you like it, please pimp it out to your best friends on here and especially to the editors. i mean, fuck. i wrote about sex!!!! i want a cover finally!!! and it's good!!
love love loev and gratitude, L&P. the wonderpups send treats and kissing and sniffs.
now, i'm completely heartsick. i just posted a post about sex and hardly anyone showed up!!!! i'm so freaking sad. it's a really erally really good post and i never say that, as you guys know.
please read it and if you like it, please pimp it out to your best friends on here and especially to the editors. i mean, fuck. i wrote about sex!!!! i want a cover finally!!! and it's good!!
love love loev and gratitude, L&P. the wonderpups send treats and kissing and sniffs.
i dont want two pairs of parenthesis but i KNOW i am going to have them, and i am going to have riverbeds running across my forehead, and the brow furrow, i dont even have a phrase for what that is going to become.
thanks for the forecast, luluandphoebe!
thanks for the forecast, luluandphoebe!
Oh, dear, L&P, I identified with every single experience with the exception of the curled toes. Last week I put the OJ away in the pantry, and the protein powder in the fridge. Sigh....
No comments:
Post a Comment