Aging and Other Humiliations
Image courtesy of Chairat Leetrakulpichitchai via Scopio
Okay, I just want to put it out there: I am not aging gracefully. I’m fifty, and I date men in their forties, sometimes in their thirties. Yes, I know what that looks like. I am alright with the label cougar. I just don’t want to be dating someone who reminds me of my grandfather.
My Body Has Started Sending Me Passive-Aggressive Emails
They are short, but to the point. My knee clicks like a ballpoint pen. I refuse to investigate this noise or the temporary pain I feel sometimes when I try to move too aggressively. By aggressive, I mean get up from a chair.
I’ve thrown my back out reaching for yogurt. This is insane on many levels. First of all, eating yogurt is supposed to help me lose weight, which is not happening at all. Secondly, why is every movement a struggle?
When I sit down at the kitchen table, my right leg falls asleep. I have no idea why, and it is annoying the heck out of me. I say things like heck now. And if I sit weird, I need some recovery time.
Sleeping is now a competitive sport. If I maneuver my body in the wrong direction, body parts I never knew I had will start throbbing.
At some point in adulthood, your body stops being a vehicle and becomes a coworker who resents you. I’m at the age where I can injure myself by having an opinion too aggressively.
I Miss Being Young Until I Remember I Was a Disaster
Yes, my electricity was shut off in my twenties because I couldn’t pay the bill. Honestly, several companies were looking for me financially.
Let’s not even mention the emotional instability. I was one moody, depressed, anxious, borderline manic woman in my twenties. I was the queen of bad relationships. Actually, I don’t even know if I would call them relationships.
I drank liquor so cheap the hangovers felt personal. I had no financial stability and worked on and off as a temp secretary.
I mean, being young had its fun: the parties, the late nights, the interesting men. But I was insecure and stupid, really, if I’m honest.
Now young people think I’m old, which is horrifying. A guy who looked about twenty-two at a gas station called me ma’am. Am I a lady now? Not just a woman, but kind of an old lady?
I taught college students, and let me tell you, I don’t know what the kids are saying these days. I’m sorry, I’m not up on the latest slang. I was born when people were using the term groovy.
I don’t know how to use an emoji correctly to save my life.
What’s even crazier is that music from my teens is now considered oldies. What the what?
And why are all the doctors younger than me now? I’m so old that I question their knowledge based solely on the fact that they look like they should still be asking permission to stay out past midnight.
Professional athletes look like children to me. In fact, they could actually be my children.
None of this is right.
My Entire Personality Is Now Based on Comfort
I wear orthopedic shoes to run errands. Do you have any idea how sad that is? I used to collect pretty shoes and boots with heels and all kinds of leather designs. I’m so not hip anymore.
I sometimes cancel plans for the sole reason that I’m too tired to leave the house. Getting ready to leave the house feels like a project sometimes.
I used to have a favorite blanket when I was a kid. Now all blankets are my favorite. I can no longer sit on the couch without a blanket. Even in the middle of summer.
I’ve had discussions with my friends about digestion, body aches, and pure exhaustion, which seems to be prevalent among all of us. Also, perimenopause is a thing no one prepares you for. I’m talking hot flashes and really scary mood swings.
And honestly, sometimes when I say I’m going out, I mean Target. Because stores like Target and Home Goods are fun now. Maybe not the kind of fun I had when I was younger, but the times are a-changin'.
Aging Is Realizing Everything Requires Maintenance
Every morning something new needs repair, and unfortunately the house is me.
Skin care becomes a serious thing as you age. I have weird spots on my skin now. I’ve been told I have to exfoliate. I have wrinkles and pimples. Can it get any worse? If I moisturize too much, I get zits; if I don’t moisturize enough, I get wrinkles. There is no winning.
If I don’t stretch, there’s no walking around like a mobile person.
I have to work to maintain friendships now; I don’t remember having to do this when I was younger. I have to work on my sleep schedule because I don’t just sleep anymore. I have sleep apnea now, so even sleeping feels like a chore. I have to clean a CPAP machine just to participate in unconsciousness.
I think about finances very differently now that I’m older. I’m not reckless anymore. I’ve become boring and responsible, which unfortunately is something you eventually have to do.
Maybe this is what aging really is: slowly transforming from a spontaneous person into someone who gets excited about lumbar support, comfortable shoes, and finding a good moisturizer that doesn’t cause a breakout.
Honestly, though, if growing older means staying home under a blanket while ordering throw pillows from Target in orthopedic shoes with excellent arch support, maybe I’m finally becoming the person I was always meant to be.
nina
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