The other night, Charlie and me were in the den. He was watching the tube and I was reading the AARP Magazine when I think, when did this happen? When did I go from joking about this magazine to actually reading it? Not flipping through it, not scanning it, but actually reading it? I mean, finding the articles interesting and helpful.
The celebrities on the cover used to be old looking, you know? Now I find myself saying things like, “Gee, that Michael Douglas still is a good looking guy.” In fact, this issue I got more excited about the article called “Your Big Health Questions Answered” than the one about budget vacations. That worries me.
One day you wake up and you realize that not only are the hot movie stars younger than you are, but you’re old enough to be their mother. You find yourself fantasizing about comfortable shoes and bald men with gray hair and a twinkle in their eye. You’re walking by a store window, glance in and think, “That’s a nice looking older woman.” Then, you realize it’s your reflection.
Doesn’t it seem like just as you’re hitting your stride in life: family doing okay, work’s going good (or you may even be retired, God bless you), some money in the bank—then your body starts falling apart?
I saw this video of a female comedian on Facebook (didn’t get her name, you know how that is) and she said something like, “Isn’t getting older wonderful? You go to bed fine, then you wake up and your back’s out. You sneeze and pull something in your neck.” Then, this is the thing that got me, she goes, “I swear, I’m one thunderous fart away from total paralysis.”
I think it’s because our bodies have been trying to get our attention, but we just haven’t been listening. It starts off subtle: slight heartburn after a spicy meal, pop a couple of Rolaids and you’re good to go. Maybe you eat a little too much chocolate and get kind of cranky. It happens. Then one day, you wake up and realize you’ve entered an alternate universe.
In this brave, new world, you can be chewing a Junior Mint, and suddenly realize it has a crunch to it. New formula? No, that’s just the filling from one of your molars that’s decided to give up the ghost. And at this point, they don’t fill ‘em anymore. No siree, Bob! We’re talking a brandy new crown. And congratulations. You’ve just bought your dentist, his wife and kids a long weekend in a four star hotel.
Or you get a little carried away with Cherry Garcia, Chubby Hubby and Everything But the Kitchen Sink. So what? Here’s what: you wake up the next morning with a hangover. Seriously! A hangover from eating too much sugar! No alcohol involved. What is this evil planet?
On the death star, you eat something (who knows what) and your stomach pumps up to the size of an over inflated beach ball. That night geysers of fire erupt like a volcano, sending molten lava up to squeeze your heart in a vice grip. Rolaids bounce off this beast like marshmallows. While you, curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, welcome the coolness of the tile and pray for relief. Countless “Our Father’s,” “Hail Mary’s,” and a few spontaneous “Jesum Crows!” thrown in for good measure, and poof! The pressure valve magically releases, sending toxic vapors into the night. Get thee behind me, Satan!
I’ve just had to wrap my head around the fact that Charlie and me are in another phase of life. You know, one where you get together with friends and instead of talking about what you used to talk about (which honestly, I can’t quite remember what that was), you discuss retirement, grandchildren, and if we’re lucky to still have them, our elderly parents. We might even do an organ recital. That’s where you talk about your aches and pain and your replacement parts: new hip, knee or shoulder.
You know what they say: aging ain’t for the faint of heart, but it’s better than the alternative. And yes, sometimes I have to think through the best way to lift that heavy laundry basket. Or how I’m going stand up when I skooch down to pet our little dog, Scamp. But sometimes when I’m out walking the little guy, keeping up a good pace, I’m filled with gratitude for my healthy body and my comfortable life.
Ten years ago, I just tossed the AARP magazine as soon as it arrived. Now, I look forward to checking out the gardening advice, “Movies for Grown-ups” and tips to improve your sex life, ‘cause I may be old, but I’m not dead yet!
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flipside!
Hear Ida Tell It: AARP Magazine
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December 10-12, A Very Ida Christmas! at The Public Theatre in Lewiston, ME
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