Being in the midst of planning a birthday party for my beloved husband, thoughts of aging are dominating my mind this week. The love of my life is turning 60 this Saturday...SIXTY!!!...when did that happen? It's a really hard concept to wrap your mind around when it seems like only yesterday we were struggling newlyweds with 2 children between us and a mortgage that scared us to death. I've always believed that age is a state of mind and the state I'm in is about 30-35 and I have no plans to move to an older state any time in the near future. So shouldn't we have the ability to look like the state we're in? I mean take a look at old age and tell me you want to go there. What's with the flap under your upper arm that continues to wave long after you've stopped? Not to mention the gray hair, the joints that stiffen up like the tin man on a rainy day and, worst of all.....WRINKLES. Now wrinkles may look cute on a Sharpai dog but on humans it's anything but cute. It's amazing the body parts that can develop these folds and creases. Who would have thought that knees had enough skin to fold. I remember several years ago seeing a young, well-built girl in our neighborhood that had an elaborate tattoo all across her abodomen and midrift. Although she was very proud of both her tattoo and her firm body, being older and wiser, I knew that eventually this whole area would deteriorate into a mass of confusing creases and colors, winding up looking much like some of the modern art I've seen.
I admit to having more than a healthy dose of vanity. In fact, my bathroom looks like the alchemy shops you read about in stories of witches and voodoo queens. I have an assortment of gels, creams, lotions and patches that would rival any drugstore or cosmetic counter. I think I've tried everything short of Crazy glue to keep things where they're supposed to be with only marginal results. It seems that gravity and time tend to be stronger than the latest wrinkle earsing cream. The phrase "growing old gracefully" must be another of those old wives tales ( by the way, who ARE these old wives?). If growing old were graceful, there wouldn't be much of a market for geriatric aids and elastic waistbands. Personally, I intend to fight it every step of the way! After all, in this modern age of technology and the latest in laser surgeries, who needs to just give in to Father Time.
Whoever came up with the timetable for aging should rethink the concepts. When you're young and bright and agile, you spend most of your time having fun and assuming life will always be the way it is then. Imagine the horror of looking into a mirror one morning and being absolutely certain that someone has switched your mirror for one of those funhouse ones that totally distort your image. It's got to be the mirror or the lighting or maybe your eyes just aren't focused yet.
The most ironic part of getting older is that you spend your life learning how to live it, and once you finally get the hang of it, the eyes start to go, you get aches in places you didn't even know you had, and your mind develops these black holes that swallow up things you used to know. Oh sure, there are warning signs,like forgetting what you went all the way upstairs for or stooping down to get something out of the bottom cabinet and practically needing a crane or at least six boyscouts to get up again, but nobody pays attention to those things. I mean, we're not getting older, it's those other people that are. You know, the blue-haired ladies with their carts in the middle of the isle at the grocery store, or the stooped over little old man that takes a day and a half to cross the street. That surely isn't where any of us are going to wind up.
Even as we gather around my husband this Saturday, cracking jokes about his age and all the afflictions besetting him, I'll be planning my next visit to the plastic surgeon, popping vitamins and plotting my escape from this trail to old age. After all, Father Time isn't exactly the fastest old codger so maybe I can outrun him for a while yet. Wish me luck.