Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet and Watch

I'm turning 48 this year. Ugh. I hear stuff like "oh I don't mind aging, I've earned those years and it's freeing" "I know who I am now" "I care less what people think now" "The best years are ahead of me" it's all a truckload of crap.

I hate aging.

I can't remember shit, I lose track of stuff, I have more chins than a Chinese phonebook, I can't read small print and my ass is looking at my ankles now. I heard Oprah last night telling the world how much she loves her body and appreciates how her body has held her up even with 40 extra pounds and a stressful year. Maybe she has the right idea, maybe I need to thank my sagging belly for carrying around 2 children for 18 months, I especially want to thank my uterus for carrying a son who had the head size of a summer melon. Thank you breasts for feeding said infants but leaving me with enough filler to roll my breasts up into a support bra. Thank you short legs that are the same length as a 11 year old girl's, I have given you absolutely no exercise and still you have been there for me, only giving me trouble when I make you walk on heels (shut it Erica, they ruin you). Lastly, I want to thank my upper arms, they supplied Griffin with unending hilarity, every time he climbed into the car passenger seat and saw my hands on the steering wheel, he would reach over and swing the loose skin back and forth, ahhh such fun.

I told Tim we maybe have 20 good years left, but who knows when we might croak over. And why do men usually die before women? I don't want him to go first! I can picture it now, Chris and I walking Superstition Mall with our seat walkers because both Mike and Tim are long gone, we spend our entire afternoon discussing our digestive systems and why our children don't call us more. Then we climb into the senior services bus and go home to our 9 cats to watch our programs and complain about our poor circulation while I make her hot cocoa without milk because she has become lactose intolerant. Then she screams at me that it's high time I get a hearing aid and I need to stop pretending I don't. Then I tell her that maybe she should worry more about her early stages of dementia and less about my hearing.

Aging sucks, but thank your bodies anyway.