Something has happened to me recently. I can’t quite explain it. It’s come on rather suddenly, and as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, it’s time to call a spade a spade.
I am getting old.
It’s crept up on me, and though I must have seen it coming, some days I feel as if it hits me like a ton of bricks.
|Me, dressed as a little girl|
There have been warning signs -
- As I prepared for my recent blog about product-obsession, I was a bit startled by how many of my beauty potions contained the words “anti-aging,” “pro-collagen,” or “wrinkle smooth.”
|Me (circa 1984) Can't you see her smirking?|
It's like she's saying, "This is the best your
skin will ever be. Mwahahahaha!"
- I’ve gradually decided that painful shoes just aren’t worth it…well, maybe if they’re really, really cute, but even then, for a couple of hours, tops!
- My belly cannot handle the things it used to be able to. I can’t eat a heavy meal late at night. Foods that are spicy, rich or unfamiliar will almost always leave me feeling yucky.
- I seem to require much more moisture than I used to (is this the evidence that I’m drying up?). I am always applying and reapplying lotion – the upside is that I smell fantastic.
- I’ve completely given up on new technology. I think I’ve reached the age where I’ve learned all I’m going to. If something more modern than, say, Facebook, Blueray players, or my current EVO come out, I’m refusing to learn about it. I’m done. I’m sticking.
|More are coming!|
So, there you go. I’m a bonafide, wrinkly, crabby, sensible-shoe wearing, knee-cracking, old lady who is too stubborn to wear her glasses.
|My future! (this is me, dressed as an old lady for |
a skit. I did love that padded booty. Quite comfy!)