Floating in Denial

The candles don't lie

I was sipping my coffee (okay, slurping) this morning while reading the paper (okay, People) when I noticed something alarming. No, not that Kate Gosselin and her freaky hair extensions are somehow still news, although that does keep me up at night.  For some odd reason, my arm is holding the magazine so far away from my face, it may as well be in the next room. And, shockingly enough, if I pull it ever closer to my squinting eyes, the words begin to blur. Hmm. How bizarre. I shrugged it off, like I’ve done for almost a year now, and extended my arm back to a good distance. Now I could clearly read “Kate Gosselin Shops for Produce!” Ah, there. Much better.

And so, my denial has begun. Yes, give me a raft and I’ll happily float down that river all the live long day. I suppose I could actually go to an optometrist. And sure, I’d probably be able to see better. But really, where does that get me? Once I give in, I may as well start eating dinner at 5 pm. Oh wait, I already do that. Damn.

Why can’t I embrace turning 40? As we all know, 40 is the “new 30”! Please. Forty is forty. The Beginning of Old. Everyone (usually those well over 40) tells me I’m still young. Forty is a great age, they assure me, liberating even. Granted, I do notice that I give less of a rat’s ass what people think of me and that in itself is solid gold. But, you can keep the stray grays, the deep wrinkled brow, and the fact that I pull a muscle just reaching for my All-Bran cereal box and did I mention the god-awful noises and grunts that come out of my mouth just getting up off the couch? When did this crap happen? Wasn’t I 29 just yesterday?

When I was 29, I was very active, had no kids. My husband and I were newlyweds, running around doing stuff like rollerblading, splitting a bottle of wine, staying up to 1 am. Those were the days, my friend, and guess what? We thought they’d never end. (If you can recognize that song, you’re at least as old as me.)

Now, I’m a sightless, grunting, wrinkled shell of my former self who can barely finish an entire beer before her liver begins to disintegrate and who happily tucks herself into bed by 8 pm to watch House. Am I getting old? Does a bear s%^!  in the woods (only after getting the right amount of fiber in their diet?) This sucks. I don’t like it. I’m turning into my cranky 76 year old mother. Well, looks like I’ve got the cranky part down. I’m well on my way to Old Age. Yippee. What the hell, bring on 50, I can take it (after I take a few Advils and sit down to rest a bit.) Now if you’ll excuse me, this old lady needs to go back to blissfully squinting at Kate Gosselin pushing a shopping cart.

8 thoughts on “Floating in Denial

  1. Kim

    Completely getcha. I was there, too! (You’re such a youngun!) Well, I won’t tell you that being over 40 is wonderful, and I’m not yet 2 years into my 40s! Quite frankly, it sucks. It includes hair dye, no-line bifocals (I finally caved in), wrinkles, AND an extra 5-15 pounds. Expect more of the moaning and creaking when you get up (since WHEN has it been so hard to get up off the damn floor?!) and feeling more and more like you’ve turned into your mother. Sorry, but that’s the truth. I choose to ignore as much of that stuff as I can and “just keep swimming.” The good thing? You ARE more wise, more in control of your destiny (or so I’d still like to believe), and more self-assured. It’s not all bad, but it’s not all good either. It is what you make of it. 😉

    1. How did I forget the extra 15 pounds?! My thighs seem to be getting wider and wider by the second. Oh, well. Like you said, it’s important to focus on only the good stuff about getting old. Being self-assured means I don’t care as much what my body is morphing into anymore. Freedom!

  2. Oh goodness… I’m almost 39 1/2 and I feel it. The biggest thing is that they say to wait until you’re older to have kids (not like I had a choice) and you’ll have more patience. What they don’t tell you is that you’re exhausted all the time so you are too tired to be impatient. I’m not sure the trade-off is fair.
    My eyes are going too, and every joint snaps, crackles, and pops with every movement. On the bright side, I hear 50 is fabulous. Maybe because you’re over “the change” by then? I dunno…

    1. Ha! Yes, you are right, I am just too damn tired and lazy to be impatient! Works out for the best when you’re 40 and have a three year old. And I am holding out hope that 50 is fab. Ready for The Change, bring it on, hot flashes and all!

    1. Bernice, yoga is a godsend for me. I’ve been practicing for over a year now and I am afraid if I stop, I’ll become a hunched-over creaky cranky old lady. It really does wonders though. You are lucky your kids are grown up now. I wish I was welcoming grandkids into the world at my age. I won’t get to that point until I’m close to 55-60 years old. AHH!

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