How We Age - or Does the Mirror Lie?

The subject of aging came up recently in a group I belong to. I had a difficult time turning 50, but since then, aging hasn't bothered me all that much. That year my youngest child left home. For the first time in 50 years I was alone in the house. I had gone from my parents' home to
my husband's. There had always been someone in the house with me even if it was one of my children. Okay, not every minute of the day, but someone always lived there with me. Came home for dinner, slept there, etc.  My husband was on the road, so when my son left, that was it. I was completely alone for weeks at a time.
Of course it didn't take long to get used to doing what I wanted when I wanted and how I wanted. With the exception of being alone at night. I kind of liked it.
Someone else in the group pointed out that for whatever reason, she looked better in the mirror than she did in pictures.

I have to agree for the most part. I mean really, I style my hair - never managed to make it look like the beauty shop did - put on my makeup, and think I look halfway presentable. I attend whatever function

called for my fussing, and inevitably someone takes a picture and posts it on Facebook. Hours later, I see the post and wonder how I could possibly look so bad when I looked so good only a short time before.
Does the mirror lie?
I didn't think it did, because years earlier when I wasn't quite as heavy as I am now, but still overweight, I stayed at my sister in law's cottage. Her bathroom closet had a full length mirror. I never paid much attention to it. I avoid full length mirrors like the plague.
However, upon getting out of the shower one day, I was met head on by a fat naked lady staring at me. Scared the heck out of me, I'll tell you. I couldn't imagine who came in the bathroom while I was showering.
Okay, you're right, I'm not that stupid. But it sure did startle me. I don't mind telling you I wanted to throw a sheet or something over that mirror every time I showered. Instead, I ran the water so hot before I got out, it steamed up the mirror. Problem solved.
We recently bought a motor home (1989 model, quite old, but all we could afford). It has a full length mirror that you can't avoid. I told hubby it has to go. He just laughed at me. One of these days, I will remove it.
Of course that doesn't change the fact that I'm overweight and getting older. But at least I won't have to see it. They say age has its privileges. Wish I knew what they were.

It's My Birthday and I'll Cry If I Want Too - Ginger Simpson

Seems like yesterday I was 20, aching to be twenty-one.  Don't have any idea why except that twenty-one makes you "legal."  I don't drink, never was much of a smoker, but the idea of being a true adult was something I craved.  I guess because I never expected to live long enough to flash my ID at someone who asked for verification of my age.  Always had a terrible fear of death, and no matter which age I turned, I convinced myself I was living my last year.  You know, won't live to graduate, but when I did, wouldn't live to get married, but I did.  Then I worried I wouldn't live long enough to have children, but I did...even though they tried hard to kill me.  *lol*

My father and his entire family passed away young.  Dad was only sixty-one, so that was my new number of fear.  But here I am...bypassing that age by several years, shocked that God has granted me the good fortune of enjoying a grandson despite predictions that I looked exactly liked my Aunt Miriam who passed away much too early.  I guess there are some strong "Poole" genes that have overrode the weak "Pomerantz" ones since my Mom just turned 90 on November 1 and I'm still alive and kicking, albeit not very high.  Funny how no one asked to see my ID when I was younger, but here in TN, if you buy beer, you have to show an ID.  Even the age spots on my hands won't do...they want to see my license.  Strange.

My sisters and I were all enjoying a good laugh the other night (but crying inside) at what shocks lay in store for senior citizens.  Growing old is one surprise after another.  From your eyelashes falling out, to whatever held up the skin on your neck disappearing overnight, to growing that "old lady" belly most likely meant to support your elongating boobs to the possibility of spending money on lifting something or plumping up something that's disappeared.  I've never had much lip line, so imagine if I turned up with one all of a sudden!!!!  I guarantee you, I'm no Angelina Jolie.

  We are all three years apart, and my youngest sister will turn 60 in a few weeks.  For one year, my sisters, our brother and I will all share the same decade.  While some people love the "back in the sixties" craze...for us it will have a whole new meaning:  sixty, sixty-three, sixty-six, and sixty-nine.

So...today I give thanks to God for letting me be part of this wacky family that produced the first punk rocker in a redneck town, a child determined to piss off every policeman in his path, a wonderful grandson who hasn't let autism defeat him, along with a mother, sisters and brother who add love and laughter to my life.  Two daughters-in-law have made my sons the men they are today...I couldn't have done it without them.  Yes, I'm spoiled. I'm especially thankful for a husband who takes care of me, loves me, wrinkles, fat and all, and is proud of everything I've accomplished in my 69 years.  Kelly is my biggest fan.

So, Happy Birthday to Me.  My sister, Glynda got me "delivered" water so I can begin drinking the 96 ounces a day the nutritionist advised.  I do good to drink a plastic bottle of Aquafina in a day, so perhaps my end will come from drowning.  That's always been another fear of mine.  *lol*

FREEDOM COMES WITH AGING - Shared by Ginger Simpson

This is an email I received from a dear friend, and I really needed to read and absorb the words.  I hope you will, too.

Start Shared words:

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world, too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it, if I choose to read, or play on the computer, until 4AM, or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50s, 60s & 70s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will.

I will walk the beach, in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves, with abandon, if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And, eventually, I remember the important things.

Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break, when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength, and understanding, and compassion. A heart never broken, is pristine, and sterile, and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so  blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore.  I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it).

MAY OUR  FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE  HEART!

End Shared Message****

Please feel free to share this with others who need to appreciate the gift they've received.  Yesterday, I discovered a dear friend for many years lost her son during the night.  He simply went to sleep and didn't wake up, and he was a classmate of my youngest son who is 38.  Sadly, Jeff passed from complications caused by a medicine prescribed to combat the epilepsy he contracted during his military career.  The end result was liver disease, and now his mother has outlived her child…something I'm certain none of us want to do.  So…laugh today, live like there's no tomorrow, and dance if you want to.  Yesterday was the past, today is the "present"…a gift from God to you. 

P.S. Would you believe, I had to use a calculator to remember how old my son is…egad, in my mind, we're practically the same age, but a peek in the mirror dispels that myth.  *smile*

Chapter Two - Life is a Bowl of Toilets and I Feel Flush - #humor @gingersimpson

Welcome back.  I hope the humor from Chapter One forced you to return for another dose.  Remember, this isn't a few long book, so the chapters are fairly short.  Without further ado, I resume my story.

Ain't No Valley Low Enough - (Remember, I've name the chapters after favorite songs.)

There are just some things I refuse to do anymore--for the sake of appealing to the opposite sex.  I spent too many years encased in heavy-duty spandex panty girdles, so I consider I've paid my dues. AND, I'm not talking just "panty-sized" girdles either--I'm referring to those waist to knee contraptions that chafed the inside of your thighs until they were raw and as an additional prize, gifted you with a painful rash around your waist.

Of course, that was years before panty hose were invented, so you had to hold up your hose with something. Oh, I could have copied my Granny and used thick rubber bands placed right below my knee, but tourniquets have never been my thing.

Sure, I could have gone for the sexy garter belt look, but I didn't have the body to pull it off, and I felt totally out of place at Fredrick's of Hollywood.  So, rather than submit to the humiliation of silent stares or loss of blood flow to my lower extremities, I submitted to discomfort and torture.  Today, I think I get the "secret" behind the girdle.  After you wore it for a whole day, you couldn't stand for your inner legs to come in contact with one another when you walked, so you had kind of a sexy swagger.  Go figure.  The things we did without realizing there is a end benefit somewhere along the line.

 Today, wearing nylons to cover your legs is a fashion faux pas.  It took someone all that time to help those of us with larger thighs stop suffering, but now we have to rely on leg make-up, long pants or simply revealing the lovely blue tinge caused by varicose veins. I view it this way...my body is headed south due to gravity and the map lines on my legs are showing it the way.

 At this point of my life, I'm told the only thing that will help me lose weight is exercise.  Hey, I'm past sixty, so the chances of me getting a gym membership or jogging around the neighborhood are between slim and none.  Besides, just think, if I had become a jogger, I might have been in Boston at the marathon and suffered bodily harm or even death.  Exercise can be dangerous and I prefer not to take the chance.

I always wanted to stop in one of those quaint little fashion stores, but my size has always precluded it.  I was forced to utilize Big Beautiful Woman, Pretty and Plump or Chubby n Chic.  Don't you just love those names?  Might as well hang a sign with a big arrow that says, "Fat Women's Only Option."

Don't get me wrong.  although I would much rather be seen in Petite Sophisticate or not be a freak in Victoria's Secret, I'm thankful someone gave a little style to bigger sizes.  Too bad, they didn't think it through.  Designers took smaller ideas and increased the amount of material to complete their look, but failed to carry the idea through to support.  I hate to beat a dead horse, but why can't someone see that a 32A brassiere and a 40DD should NOT share the same type of strap.  Nor should nightgowns in sizes over XXL have fixed bodices.  Larger boobs don't car if you mark where they're supposed to be, they'll hang wherever they want the moment you set them free.  I have a secret for Victoria...none of your clothes fit me.

I don't know why I worry about aging and size, after all doesn't television promise a cure for every woe?  No more cellulite, wrinkles, or sagging skin.  Yeah right!  Are there really people out there who believe those lies?  I recently viewed an ad for a special cream to cure dimpled thighs.  The endorsing woman was so skinny, she probably didn't have a clue what the cellulite infliction was, but with a convincingly, satisfied grin, she held up a one-ounce tube of the concoction and tried to make the viewing audience believe she'd actually used it.  Get real!  In the first place, one ounce wouldn't handle a portion of one of my thighs, and if it truly worked, they'd be selling the stuff in five-gallon drums.

I also read somewhere that hemorrhoid ointment applied on your face is good for wrinkles.  How this amazing cure was discovered is what stumps me. I've heard of a few who have mistakenly sprayed their hair with room freshener or brushed their teeth with styling gel, but although I sometimes forget which end is up, I can't imagine what beauty product I could confuse with Preparation H.

Okay, so I am a chump on occasion.  I have a cabinet full of lotions, potions and creams and still have pleated lips, sagging jowls and dimples that aren't affect why whether or not I smile.  At the very least, can't someone come up with a solution to make blanket creases disappear before noon?  I think it's a downright shame to have tell-tale signs of sleeping when you've been up for hours.

How sad it is when something as simple as wearing socks becomes another tell-tale sign of age?  If you remove them and can't wear anything but ankle-length pants for hours--face it, you're not a young chick anymore.  I'm lucky I have an OLD rooster who doesn't mind if I have indentions in my calves, but I admit it still bothers me.  I've always wanted thin ankles but not at the cost of compression hose.  It's just not fair.

And age spots?  We all eventually get them.  They turn up overnight.  You'd think everything else that happens to your body is punishment enough, but now you have big brown spots on the backs of your hands and some even on their arms and faces.  When I was under twenty-one, I got carded to buy booze, now that I'm a senior, I should only have to flash the back of my paw and get alcohol and a discount.  Here in Tennessee, they card everyone.  How ridiculous is that.  I've passed twenty-one three times, didn't collect $200.00 or buy Park Place.

Honestly, would I look like I do if all the TV ads were truthful?  If brand X shampoo made my hair shimmer like sunshine and brand X night cream took away all my frown lines, I'd look like Eve Langoria.  If brand X mascara gave me thick, luscious lashes, brand X lipstick gave me fuller, sexy and shining lips in front of the most dazzling smile promised by brand X toothpaste, I could be a model.  Heck, I'd settle for having lips at this point.

What if those eighteen hour bras lifted and separated the way they promise?  What if Oil of Olay reversed the aging process or men flocked to us like perfume ads claim?  I guess false advertising still works because despite knowing better, I always try the new miracle products on the off chance something really works as promised.  I'll bet you have a few products sitting around too.

*****

An old couple sat at their breakfast table one morning.  "Just think, honey."  The old man reaches across and grasps her hand.  "We've been married fifty years today."
She smiles.  "I know and just think, fifty years ago we were eating at this very same table.
The old man nods and broadens his grin.  "We sure were, and probably sitting here as naked as jaybirds."
Granny snickered.  "Well, what do you say?  Should we?"
Their chairs squeal across the tiled floor as they stand and strip to the buff and then take their original seats.
"You know, sweetheart," the senior woman leans across the table, speaking in as sexy a voice as she can conjure.  "My nipples are as hot for you now as they were fifty years ago."  
Grampa's shoulders sag.  "I'm not surprised. One of them is in your coffee cup and the other is in your bowl of oatmeal."

April Fools

Okay, I stopped pulling pranks on people years ago...right after I told my son his ex-girlfriend called and said she was pregnant.  Two days later, she turned up at the door with her mother, both of them in tears.  You shouldn't only be careful what you wish for...you should be careful what you joke about.  That little rib tickler is almost seventeen years old now.

This has been a crazy week, so it's perfect that it ends on a day for fools.

Monday, I went to the doctor for a re-check, ended up having seven vials of blood drawn, and they didn't even give me a cookie and juice. I can't even recall what the recheck was for, but at about quarter to five, I got a call from the nurse, telling me my potassium showed as seriously low.  She was calling in a prescription and I needed to get it right away and come back in two days for another blood draw.

I'm not a fan of pills, especially ones that are big enough to choke a horse.  Fortunately, when I got out my magnifying glass and read the fine print, these whoppers could be dissolved and put into liquid.  Boy, is the last sip crunchy, but they warn you not to chew the crystals. I worried about all the side affects listed on the sheet that came with my RX, but acid reflux seemed to be the worst of it. For two nights I slept in the recliner, and now have a stiff neck and sore back.  Great!

Wednesday, I went back and had more blood drawn to see if the pills had elevated my potassium level.  I haven't heard anything yet so I assume I'm not on the emergency list.

Today, I returned to the doctor for a bone density test.  Never had one, didn't know what to expect.  Instead of removing my blouse and bra, this time I just had to remove my jeans.  Of course they provide you with paper shorts.  I'm here to tell you that one size does NOT fit all.  Those shorts were so tight, I expected the seam to explode any minute.  Amazingly enough, the paper held and withstood movement.  I'm thinking NASA might be interested in them.  The test was a piece of cake, but I wonder if the outcome will mean yet another pill.

Next week, I go for a long overdue mammogram.  This is all part of my "senior citizen physical" which Medicare urges you to get.  My doctor is a cutie pie and tells me I don't look my age.  He also tells me I'm in great shape compared to a lot of his patients.  Just wait till he has to lift my arms to find my boobs for the breast exam.  *lol*  I haven't ever had to disrobe for him.  I don't know who to feel sorrier for.  Thank God, I don't have to have a pelvic exam.  I was worried about the echo it might cause.  *think about...you'll get it eventually.*

I don't know who said "women are like wine, they get better with age," but I'd like to have a serious discussion with him/her.  My body is on a downhill slide and there's nothing I can do to stop it.  I used to have bare elbows and knees, but now they are covered by little flaps of skin that used to be part of my upper arm and leg. My lips have all but disappeared, and whatever held up my neck has shifted down...right beneath my breasts and above my belt line to create a shelve.  If I didn't know better, I'd think my body was metal and I had magnets in my socks.  Honestly, wine and I have nothing in common, unless the bottle has a wrinkled label and tastes like vinegar.

Well, I see it's time to go take my potassium pill...or drink it.  Perhaps I should add it to that fine wine we just talked about.  Heck,  maybe I'll just dissolve it in the bottle.  If I remember correctly, things always look much better in an alcoholic stupor.  Shucks...I can't drink...more fine print on the side of my RX bottles.

I hope I didn't scare any of you younger people.  I'm just trying to prepare you for what's to come.  I keep asking my mom why she didn't warn me.  "Would you have believed me?" she asks.  I'd have to say no.  I had no idea what aging did to a body.  You have to be naked to appreciate the wrath. I think Mother Nature wrote the first horror story.

Here's looking at you, kid.  Do me a favor and don't look back.  *lol*