I've been trying real hard to age gracefully, but I just can't do it.
Oh, I age all right--just not gracefully.
I try to be joyful about it, put on a happy face; I say aging doesn't matter; quote articles about how older people's brains work better in some instances than younger ones; how exercise, fiber, and pedicures keep one feeling sexy; how aged wine is quality wine; how other cultures revere the aged; how people grow wise, not old.
But it's no use. I hate aging and never have been particularly graceful. I hate losing my figure, getting wrinkles on the back of my arms, psoriasis on my legs, breasts that look like pendulums, colorless hair, not being able to walk across the room without poot poot pooting six or seven times.
Here's a Top Ten List I created:
Ten Ways I Know I May Be Aging, But I'm Not Doing It Gracefully
- I may need a rolling walker; I order it and use it to fight my way through stores on Black Friday,
- I use my cane because I love style and bought it online at fashionablecanes.com,
- I prefer to rest in the evening with a glass of wine to socializing at a church social,
- I play computer games all night and get my rest by sleeping all day,
- My favorite TV shows are nostalgic pieces like Mad Men, and Boardwalk Empire because they use "dirty" language and it helps me stay in touch with the younger generation,
- I accept dinner invitations not so I can be social but so I can bring home the leftovers for lunch the next day,
- I refuse to call cotton t-shirts "layers." I call them underwear because I'm cold and that's what my Mommy put on me when I was a little girl,
- I cuss like a rapper after measuring myself for new clothes and discover my chest, waist, and hips are all the same size,
- I substitute a bag of microwave popcorn for my veggies; after all, corn is a vegetable,
- I write lists like this to get people to pay attention to me, an old lady.
