Getting Old Sucks!

"You are only as old as you feel." Really? Is that physically or mentally? Or do you perhaps average the two? Because mentally, most days, I feel 22... maybe even 16. But, physically... I am not feeling the young age of thirty-*mumble*.

Reminders keep popping up and subtly bitch-slapping me in the face. I get it... I'm aging... dare I say, getting old. But, really? Does life have to be so rude about it??? Sheesh.

Example A:  In my journey of researching Christmas gifts, I stumbled across some youtube videos of Just Dance 3. I have always loved to dance (in private, unless intoxicated... as mentioned before). We have Dance Central, but I wanted to compare the two. (I do not play Dance Central with people in the room. Just sayin'.) So, I'm watching these videos, and I would love to try them... however, my mind believes I can do the dances perfectly... then I get the "old-age-bitch-slap" and I realize I will probably look like a beached whale trying desperately to make it's way back to the ocean. (Especially after my knees give out and I hit the floor.) My son further added sting to the slap by saying the following Walmart commercial could easily be my friends and myself. 

Example 2:  I was chatting with my friend, Ginger, last night. We both agreed that as much as we used to love to drive at night, it is no longer the joy we remember. Now, this is assuming I actually venture out, since my usual routine has me in pajamas before 6 pm. What's wrong with that?? It's dark by 6. Anyway, Ginger and I both think that oncoming headlights are entirely too bright now. And if it's raining AND it's dark... I am likely to be driving under the limit. I'm so ashamed that I admitted that.

Example X:  This evening, after work, I am lounging and relaxing (in my pj's)... Ok, I was seriously considering a nap... the t.v. was on, and a commercial for the Genie Bra came on. I yell "I want one or 20 of those!" My brain is thinking practically. I mean it holds in back fat... and there's no under-wires. It's awesome. Then my son delivered the old-age-bitch-slap. He says "That's a granny bra." Ouch. On the flip side of that, if I had said I wanted a leopard print, pink, demi bra from Victoria's Secret, I would've gotten the bitch-slap for that one too. I'm doomed. 

Example 423:  The entire right side of my body from my shoulder down to my foot is dedicated to being my weather predictors. Sometimes when I get up from a chair I'm slightly hunched over. I sometimes take the stairs one at a time (to prevent knees from going out and also to prevent slipping and rolling to the bottom, which I KNOW will happen at some point.) Bursitis and arthritis... and all those other itises are seriously cramping my style.

Example 80's: I just had a Fresh Prince of Bel Air moment with the first line of example x. I just read that to the tune of the theme song. *blank stare*

Example M:  While cooking supper, my mom said something snippy (sarcastically? grouchy? bossy?) to my step-dad which made me realize I am so much like her. Just as I said that my daughter ran through the house and wiped out. And I had to say that she is so much like me. That totally has nothing to do with being old... It was just funny.

Example Olay: I, in previous years, have been using age defying moisturizers and face wash. And now... I have decided I can't defy it any longer and have moved to the hard core cell regeneration phase of facial care. *sigh* 

Example Rude: My cousin (whom I love dearly) asked me why I was "snarling" one evening. I had no answer... it must've been a concentration look or something... anyway he says "What, your wrinkles aren't deep enough?" Ouch. If he weren't bigger than me (and older, I was taught to respect my elders *evil giggle*) I'd totally kick his ass. Mmmhmm.. Just sayin'.

So, again I say "You are only as old as you feel." Let's forget sometimes that my knees are a mess, my ankle is gonna end up broken (and possibly a hip) before I know it, and that I need a nap most evenings... I'll just keep the mental age satisfied.

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming "WOO HOO, What a Ride!"