Talking to my friends is a litany of
ailments and disgust – it appears that the hustle and bustle of the
Big Apple lose their appeal once your body starts turning against
you.
One friend complains all he does is go
to work and come home over and over and over again. He fails to see
the point in such an existence but it could be worse I guess...he
could add housework and eyebrow tweezing but luckily for him those
aren't a part of his boring relentless life.
Housework and eyebrow tweezing seem to
be mainly the domain of the women I know and what a bitch it all is.
Tweezing eyebrows was a pain in the ass and is now near impossible
with the rapidly dwindling sight of a person who has been staring at
a computer screen for the last twenty years.
In fact, even in the realm of the
endless onslaught of bodily malfunctions and strange growths that
happen to us formerly tight, gorgeous youths, the eyebrows have a
horror that stands out – you haven't really been depressed till you
get your first George Whipple eyebrow – you know the white one that
is three times as long as all the nice black ones and its also curly.
You know the one, you have to stand sideways in the mirror to see it
and good luck getting your tweezers onto it. You know you have to
look at it with your bad eye. Oh when does it end?
And housework, well I don't have to
tell you, ladies, that there is no more thankless and repetitive time
waster than housework, except facebook. But facebook has cat
pictures and no gross pee-pee smell.
Another friend is always sick. He's
not sure if he's sick or just old, a common complaint of mine. I
don't want to run to the doctor every time I fart, on the other hand
don't gas and angina feel exactly the same?
When you're in you're twenties it
doesn't matter how shitty you may feel – you realize statistically
you're most likely going to survive. You tough it out, try to get
some sleep, and in the morning, you feel great. In your forties it
is perfectly acceptable and statistically plausible that you could be
getting ready to kick. Confidence, out the window, replaced by fear.
Fear of dying, fear of going to the hospital for a non-lethal
illness and fear of then getting kicked off your insurance or worse,
getting your husband pissed off at you.
A couple of times I did end up in the
ER and oh what a clusterfuck that place is! First of all the EMTs
yell at you. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? DID YOU TAKE ANY DRUGS? HOW
MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP?
Then they put their stretcher on our
new coffee table that got delivered that afternoon! It was
hilarious. I was half unconscious but I kept looking at my husband,
and wondering if he would ask them to move the stretcher. He did!
Hey, that coffee table was expensive!
When I told them I needed a painkiller they said they don't do that. I said I'd take something from their personal stash. They were not amused.
Middle age is a disaster that I don't
think one can recover from. Everything is worse now, my vision,
hearing, stamina, strength, and even mental acuity, which is the
biggest slap in the face ever, akin to your first gray pube, which,
let me tell you, is no picnic.
What do you have left when your whole
thing was your smarts? Now I can't remember a single thing. Not a
thing I need to do, like strangle the cat, nor a thing I ate, like a
box or two of Entenmann's donuts. Now I know how those aging
beauties feel – you remember them from your 20's – the fading
gorgeous ladies that came out of nowhere and pierced you with their
sarcastic talons from the wrong side of forty. You didn't even know
you were competing with them, and yet there they are, sitting between
you and your special friend trying to be cute. But forty does not
make you cute. Seventy makes you cute. Maybe.
In fact, the last time I spoke to my
seventeen year old niece, she said of my husband and me, “You guys
are so cute!” I wanted to strangle her too but I didn't put it on
the list, and I already mentioned, if it isn't on the list, it
doesn't happen. That's all.
But here's what will really turn your
stomach – When my husband turned fifty my Mom remarked “Oh I'd
kill to be fifty again!” I practically hyperventilated. Have you
ever heard someone wish to be an age that you haven't even hit yet?
It is shocking and horrible. And once you hear it, you can't un-hear
it!
I wish I had some words of wisdom to
impart but I don't. I just had to share all the horrific stuff
that's been going on! I'm glad I found out I'm not the only one
feeling this way. Anyway, you know what they say about getting old,
it sucks, but the alternative is worse.
I'm usually more amazed at hearing people younger than me talk about how old they are. i find statements like your mother's helpful to gain perspective. i like life more as i get older. less insecurities and such. however, some of this is hilarious -- like gas and angina feeling the same. lolol
You requested pain killers from the EMT's personal stash. I luv it!
Thanks for reading & commenting!
I read this just after I saw an errant hair hanging by my left nostril...Thinking it was from my head, I went to brush it away only to find that it was attached. I cried for two reasons...1) The thought of a nose hair THAT long 2) Have you ever plucked a nostril hair?
I feel your pain, Lisa. ~~~S
Ha ha ha Samantha! I spent ten minutes trying to brush a hair off my face that turned out to be a wrinkle! Thanks for reading and commenting!