I am convinced that my body is having some sort of mid-life crisis. Perhaps a second puberty flirting with menopause. Regardless, I’m not a fan.
This week I had to get bifocals. Gradiated bifocals. With new frames because my current smokin’ awesome frames aren’t large enough for bifocals. I knew this was coming, as seeing things up close had become a painful chore, but I was kinda hoping to make it to forty. I celebrated 37 spins around the sun a few weeks ago; I wasn’t expecting bifocals to be my birthday present. I get them in about a week and I anticipate crutches in about a week plus a couple of hours. I’ve been warned that stairs are not fun with new bifocals, and given that my dog has the unfortunate habit of stopping at the top of the stairs to make sure I’m still coming, it’s a matter of time before I fall and break something. I love her to death, but the damned dog adores me so much that she insists on being as close as caninely possible to me at all times. She is also shortshortshort and I am talltalltall, so I have a hard time seeing the little fatty when she’s directly under my feet. So expect an update here in the near future, showing off a sparkly new cast. Let’s just hope it’s my left leg so I can still drive. And not a torn ACL, because I’m not fond of surgery. And not a wrist, because you totally don’t want me video blogging. I’m sitting here in my pajamas, praying to my coffee, my hair trying to escape my head. Video blogging and I aren’t BFFs, is what I’m saying.
This was also the same week that a zit took over the side of my neck. Ahh, secondary puberty. It has grown to the point that I’m considering naming it and applying for a social security number. Hey, BODY, if you’re going to return me to my 13 year old skin, I’d really like to return to my 13 year old weight. I certainly don’t have a chest larger than the average 13 year old, so it’s not as though I’d be losing much.
But aging is better than the alternative, as me dear old mudder would always tell me. And as a general rule, I agree completely. But I’d kinda like to age in more of a straight line, as opposed to some sort of time-bending Star Trek-esque spiral. I have no problem with aging, discovering gray hair (but only my hairdresser knows for sure…and on that subject, methinks I’m due for a color change) and counting laugh lines (proof of a happy life) and stretch marks from hell (they are battle scars, as are the gray hairs). But bifocals and Zit From Hell the same week is just mind-bending. Ma Nature isn’t playing fair.
So as I await my brand new sparkly bifocals, I’ll stock up on support hose and buy a cane. As I await the departure of Zit From Hell, I’ll stock up on Clearasil and makeup. And hopefully they’ll all come to an agreement and allow me to age in more of a straight line.
But I wouldn’t count on it.