I had no illusions. I knew when I bought this house that I was moving into a youthful neighborhood. I knew the lives of everyone around me would be different from mine. I knew, I knew.
But things have gone too far. Two of my lithe and smooth-skinned neighbors are pregnant. Hormones ought not be so flaunted.
People run everywhere. With stopwatches and strollers. They ride bikes, skate, and I swear I’ve heard pogo sticks. Sweating is socially acceptable. Energy abounds and muscles ripple. Flaunt, flaunt, flaunt.
I recently saw a reference to people “50 and better.” 50 and BETTER? How patronizing. Why not just pat me on my little greying head and send me to my rocker with my afghan and Geritol julep? The word is “older,” thank you.
AARP sends me glossy magazines touting the trim glow of celebrities. Puh-leeze. They have nothing to do with me or I with them. I live a real life. My right knee makes a peculiar soft clicking noise when I go downstairs. On occasion my hips seem out of sync with my legs, where veins rise up like the Rockies. My fingers grow ever more gnarled and painful. I sag everywhere. My skin grows toadstools. And, worse yet, my granddaughter plays with my old-lady elbows and tempts me to forget I dote on her.
I have heard women talk about “getting over” and “moving beyond” body image. To them I say — and loudly — IMPOSSIBLE! Not that I ever had much body to have an image about, but still I miss the days when I could get up from the floor.
Golden years, my Aunt Fanny, as my ancestors would say.
There. I’m done for now.
October 1, 2014 at 3:47 pm
You’ve gone and made me laugh on this first day of October. Alas, all too soon the icy winds of winter will push everyone indoors. And there will be no more flaunting, outside at least. I have to confess that I always benefit from your rants, Maureen. They make me feel better, too.
October 2, 2014 at 8:55 am
Thanks. I’m glad that two of us feel better! And thanks also for the reminder that soon everyone will be indoors and flaunting will be impossible. GOOD.