Sunday night, I tried to watch the VMAs. Tried being the operative word in that sentence because after just two performances, I had to turn it off. I had no idea who anyone was. It made me feel old.
You know what else makes me feel old lately?
- Waking up in the morning with stiff joints and locked fingers (thanks, arthritis)
- Waking up in the middle of the night to pee (two or three times)
- Giving myself my nightly osteoporosis injection
- Forgetting why I walked into a room or opened a closet, cabinet, or drawer
- Misplacing my [insert glasses, car keys, cup, hair tie, etc.] for the umpteenth time
- Forgetting everything about a book I just listened to—including the title
- Overhearing a group of middle schoolers talking and don’t understand their slang
- Not knowing if I’m supposed to tap, slide, or insert my card at the register
Add in my gray hair, wrinkles, poor eyesight, and bad hearing, and damn! I am kinda old!
It’s not lost on me that I make fun of my octogenarian mother all the time for all these same thing. Karma’s a bitch, I guess, because now I’m turning into her (although I still do not share her obsession with coffee and Mallomars).
But here’s the thing: As old as I may feel sometimes, 54 isn’t that old. Even if my arthritic hips don’t agree. I’m still lifting heavy weights, working out daily, and speaking my mind—loudly, in fact, because at 54, my eyes may not be as sharp, but my tongue certainly is.
—LJDT
