A Week Away

It can't be a week from Christmas. I'm not ready. Wasn't it just last night that kids were at the door, yelling, "Trick or Treat?"

I remember when I thought time was at a standstill. I couldn't wait to be eighteen, and then twenty-one. It took forever to get there, but what happened? After that, my life became a slip-and-slide. I'm hurling down a narrow sheet of plastic at breakneck speed and, flat on my back, I can't see what's at the end. I'm staring up into space, watching the scenery spin by, and praying I don't hit anything... or break anything.

Seems funny that I used to chuckle at inferences of being old and breaking a hip, but I see that more as reality with each passing day. I've never fallen so much in my life. This year alone, I fell done the stairs three times. Luckily, I have enough padding to protect my osteoporific bones, but my pride was severely injured. I don't care how old you are, the first thing you do when you tumble is quickly look around to see if anyone witnessed your clumsiness. :)

I didn't even have a chance to say I was sixty-one before I turned sixty-two. So...before my next birthday creeps up...Hey everyone, I'm sixty-two. Yuk...that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

A few months back, when I looked in the mirror, I told myself I didn't look so bad for an old broad. Well, my friends, that too has changed. I'm looking pretty broad for an old hag. :) Honestly, why didn't someone warn us about all the baggage that comes with aging. Yes, I know... I keep writing about it. I can't help it. I'm shocked every time I glimpse myself. I have no idea who that fat, old, wirey-haired woman was that I saw in front of my reflection in the doors at Walmart yesterday. Whew! I hope Santa brings her a makeover.