When you’re little, your parents answer every single
”
why
”
question you have. And because you are little, you don’t know
that your parents keep secrets. And one of those secrets is that
around a certain age, your body starts to go downhill.
Fast. Really, really fast.
When you’re little, your parents answer every single “why” question you have. And because you are little, you don’t know that your parents keep secrets. And one of those secrets is that around a certain age, your body starts to go downhill.
Fast. Really, really fast.
Trust me. I speak from experience. One day you’re perfectly fine and the next you’re an old wreck. Or at least I am. What’s up with that? Look, it was only a few days ago that I was able to bounce out of bed, full of energy. This morning, I swear to you, I had to yell at my legs so that they would cooperate and get up.
Seriously. I had to threaten them with support hose, for Pete’s sake. And they very grudgingly got out of bed and shakily made their way to the kitchen where I was able to trick them into activity by drinking vast amounts of coffee. And because of that, my eyes started twitching. Too much caffeine is not good for old lady eyes like mine.
In fact, if my eyesight gets any older I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m already holding the book in my hands and stretching my arms out as far as they will go. What’s next? Will I have to put the book across the room and turn pages using a really long stick? And let’s not even get into the large print books – I already have them, thank you very much.
What happened to me? I used to only need one pair of glasses. Now I have contacts and glasses to read with.
Another pair of glasses to use when I drive. And a third pair that sits on my nightstand – and I don’t know
why. Maybe they’re special night-vision glasses so that I can see when I make nocturnal trips to the bathroom.
And those aren’t the only changes my body has suddenly decided to go through. No, I started walking again
last week after a long summer of doing absolutely no exercise at all – except yelling at Junior to take his
muddy shoes off before coming in the house. Anyway, the first week, I walked nearly every day and I GAINED two pounds. If I keep going, by Christmas, my butt will be so large it will block out the sun, and then
where will I find a decent pair of jeans that fits and flatters?
And sadly, I think my brain has begun to deteriorate as well. In fact, I’m fairly certain that in the middle of the night my brain cells pack their suitcases and exit my head through my ears, taking off for younger humans who still have two brain cells to rub together.
Take last week as an example. Junior wanted ice cream money. I looked in my wallet and found a five-dollar
bill. I gave it to Junior. Turns out, I gave Junior a 50. Now in my defense, I rarely carry around more
than five bucks – which is why I probably thought it was a five and not a 50. But Junior, thinking he had
won the lottery, proceeded to purchase toys and ice cream for the entire street, rather than inform his old and feeble mom that she had given him a 50.
And the worst part? If he hadn’t given me 10 dollars in change, I probably would’ve thought that I lost the
50 – if I remembered having it in my purse at all.
Now I’m sure you’re wondering just how old I am, right? Well, I must tell you – I don’t remember. That’s right. I don’t have a clue how old I am. I know that if Junior is 9 years old, then I am 9 years older than I was when Junior wasn’t 9 years old. But frankly, I don’t know how old I was nine years ago. If I did, I would know how old I am today, right? And if that makes sense to you, then we’re probably the same age.
But there is hope in my old, feeble brain. The other day I spoke to my 84-year-old grandmother, and she told
me never to give up. After all, she didn’t. She finds ways around aging – like hiring the neighborhood kids to
take her newspapers to the end of the street and flip the pages so she can read them.
See? I could do that. After all, I’m sure there’s a five-dollar bill somewhere in my purse.
