Finally I'm catching onto this whole business of aging. It isn't an easy fit. First off, I want my money back on this body. Granted it's done things it wasn't made to do, but this is crap workmanship to fall apart this early. It came from the Manila sweatshop full of six year-olds making 30 cents a day of gene factories. And it seems to have a super-gravity feature, as everything is headed for the floor and my nails and hair are growing like crazy. Which reminds me of being a corpse, the hair and nail thing...
In my head and I guess because I spend all of a minute in a mirror these days and my eyesight is going, somehow I thought I still looked 35. Then the Greg pix came back and I looked and thought, "That's a seniorish woman... I'm Hyacinth Bucket age." Seriously. I'm in AARP. I'm Edith Bunker age, man. That's just not right.
You thought maintenance was time consuming at 40? Ha! My hair has shot down near to my waist in the last 5 months. I couldn't take having to file the long nails all the time so now I have to cut them all the time. Freaky dry skin patches pop up from nowhere. Your skin starts going all weird and changy. It's thinner and does this gross wrinkly shit. Your veins look like a special effect. And moles. I have my mother's mole, the exact one I grew up staring at when she yelled at me. Right beside my nose. Verrry attractive. Goes well with the limp.
There are a lot of Boomers left. Numbers have been wiped out via war, AIDS, drugs, car accidents, life. But there are still plenty of us. A lot more of us didn't breed, compared to prior gens. Not many had the 5-6 kids that were common in my generation. Some never married or found a good partner, or just didn't want to be hitched to anyone and stayed single. We were very different to our parents. When I hear younguns these days say that our gen didn't do anything I just smile and think, "You didn't know the world before we came along."
Now I'm the age my mother was when I made her life miserable. I was a late life baby- Hell my dad was 53 when I was born. I can't imagine having either a teenager or a baby to mother at this age. It's enough to stay on top of keeping myself and the cat.
Today I saw two people my age in the obits. One died in his sleep. Died in his sleep! We're that old? Jesus H!
Well, even with the stranger's skin, the mood shifts, all the unfair creepy crapola that comes with aging, it's a lot better than dead, I guess. I still want my money back.
Back Once More
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