The atrocities of middle age....

By Lisa Harmon

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.