People used to say I looked young for my age. "What, no way are you 50, you look like your in your 30s!". When I was in my 40s, I looked like I was in my 20s, maybe early 30s on a good day.
Today, I look the age I am. What happened?
I have always feared having the look that some unfortunate souls have, you know the one. The rode hard and put away wet kind of look. You can see their misfortunes in the sadness of their eyes or the wrinkles in their face. There is a difference between that look and the one of someone who has spent most of their life outdoors. That is a different look. Your skin is seasoned by the sun, not chiseled by despair.
Since the last time I looked youthful, life has given me many challenges. Several deep personal losses. People I loved and one I still do, jobs I loved, homes I loved, a dog that I loved. I have been in the Great Depression. Some things were put on me, some were bad choices on my part. All of it was learning.
Today, I feel old. Older than my age. I see the seasoning of the sun AND the chiseled lines of despair in my face now. I look in the mirror. I try to relax every muscle in my face. That helps a bit. But I still look tired. After years of interrupted sleep and pretty constant stress, I AM tired. The aches that come with getting older are just add-ons to the chronic pain of fibromyalgia and arthritis that I have lived with for 30 years.
Even my body is turning into the look of an "old lady". Hell, some of my clothes are part polyester. Oh god, what is happening to me, the backpacker, the rock climber, the all-conference star athlete of Edwardsburg High School???
(Sniff, sniff, blows in hankie).
I will not go down without a fight. I will visualize myself the way I should be, strong, fit, healthy, pain free, even as an Elder. I will celebrate the wrinkles, they are my biography. But the flab! No Sir! I will eat well, I will lose weight. STOP. If I lose weight, think of all the wrinkles that are just waiting to show themselves...I have to think about that one. I will put little sticky notes around my house to tell me to be positive, laugh loudly, love hard. I will starch my work clothes. I will faithfully read my AARP magazine and send in my pledge dollars to Michigan Public Radio, PETA, the Humane Society, and Obama. I will do push-ups every day, however I can, and ride the exercise bike so generously loaned to me by a friend. I will refrain from using blue language at other drivers. And I will sing.
I don't recognize the world so much anymore, and frankly the technological high speed rail train can keep right on a chuggin without me. Facebook is like a piece of candy on the sidewalk, all the ants flock to it, but I am one of the few that don't. I yell, "Hey over here, wanna look at me and speak some real words, maybe visit a real farm or something?" But people are transfixed into the little electronic screens of their "smart phones" and iPads, thumbs flying at the keys like chicken beaks pecking on the ground. Ok. Fine. Note to self, add new sticky note to bathroom mirror. "Celebrate old age isolation!".
But I DO want to recognize myself. If I lose that, well, then I am lost. Wanna have coffee?
I can see that you like to write. So best to learn what I did, decades ago, when I was a publisher of magazines — headlines can be in sans serif font, but for readability, body text should always be written in serif fonts. Ever seen a book written in sans serif?
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