Never one to excel at anything, it shouldn't have surprised me that aging would be just another thing that I didn't do well.
But surprise me, it did. Even with 30 years of Prevention magazine subscriptions under my belt I got knocked off my knees with getting old.
I don't keep my aching creaking complaints to myself, I mutter them to the world and the response from the world to me is, "Wow. This is really hard for you I don't know what you mean because I am digging this getting old stuff."
I am a mediocre ager. So, when one of my favorite people, Vikki Reich, wrote about her own surprise at aging, I jumped on that AgeTrain. To see where I pick up where she left off, click here for Vikki's 10 Signs That You're Getting Old.
And thanks for keeping me sorry company once again, Vikki.
Signs 11 - 20 That You're Getting Old
11. Leaning over to pick up the soap I dropped in the shower has me making sounds like an elephant finally finding a water hole after three days.
12. Said sonorous efforts from bending over in the shower to retrieve dropped soap is heard by household to the point that when I exit the shower my kids shout to me from down the hall, "Boy, mom, heard an awful lot of noise in there. Glad you're Ok."
13. My dependence on coffee for life energy has lost any beautiful ritual it had in the beginning of my caffeine life to cup-guzzling like demons at a drunken feast.
14. My going to bed now is not the adorable nestling down of a person tucking into the night for restful rejuvenation. Watching me drop into bed with clothes that take on the dual role of pajamas is truthfully just this: five hours of unconsciousness before a twitchy bladder pops my eyes open.
15. Getting Old Sign Number 15 is the twitchy bladder up there ^^^^^
16. The woman at my make-up counter thinks she hears shrill, desperate, wild yapping of coyotes that have somehow been loosed at Macy's when it's me finding out my wrinkle-free surface lip-smoother primer emollient has been discontinued. (there is no way to apply lipstick now)
17. When people talk to me, it takes the concentration of a mind meld to not begin to speak my mental dialogue of, "numbing details numbing details numbing details."
18. Physical regeneration of self ain't what it used to be. Break a toe? Be prepared to feel it until next summer. Have two beers in a row? Prepare to wait nine months for brain cells to grow back. Until then, alert your family no cause for alarm when they find ground turkey defrosting in the cereal cabinet.
19. You concentrate on hydration (the act formerly known as drinking water) as you envision your half-century old insides curling up like a potato chip. You are a potato chip inside without your hydration. Don't be a potato chip.
20. Menopause may be howling at my door, but with my swollen feet and fingers, chronic heartburn, constipation, outgrowing bras yearly, and reaching for Liz Lange maternity wear for the non-maternity, I feel six months pregnant every day.
If it weren't time for my necessary self-maintenance (afternoon nap), I'd begin my next post: "10 Handy Tips as You Age." Number 1: Keep a supply of knee braces throughout the house for when you stand up too fast from a toilet.
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