Aging

My hair is greying and thinning. My skin is wrinkling. My body is sagging. My joints are aching. As my eyesight diminishes, I’m holding books further away. I run slower, remember less, and fall asleep early. Why was it so much easier to accept the changes of puberty or pregnancy than middle age? When I acknowledge that I am getting older, my teenage son jokes: “You aren’t getting older; you’re already old.” Thanks for the reality check, Dude!

When I was pregnant, I could easily talk to other pregnant women about all the changes that I was experiencing. Aging is different. Other women my age would rather that I not bring it up. Society encourages us to cover up the grey, buy wrinkle cream, either get plastic surgery, or, at the very least, keep it all tucked in with some Spanx. Older TV anchors are shown in soft focus so as not to upset our sensibilities. Ads for aging-related medicines and products always show people who are more active and energetic than most of us. When I see these ads, I feel pressured to run a marathon or climb a mountain, after rubbing my knees with arthritis medicine, (when in reality, I just feel like sitting in my pajamas and reading a good book, while sipping tea.) Even retirement homes are now called Active Senior Living Apartments! They all offer in-house beauty salons and exercise classes. What the heck?

I wish we could all just agree to age gracefully, to talk openly, and to accept the changes. Let’s just take all these pressures off. I’m looking forward to a relaxed retirement with rocking chairs and a mumu  ;-).