People look at life as a hill. It’s an uphill climb TO A CERTAIN AGE, where you stop and enjoy the view for a brief moment, and then, suddenly, from there it’s allegedly all downhill to the end.
And having just passed my birthday, it’s safe to say I’m on the downhill side now.
It’s fine. Age doesn’t bother me that much, because most people guess I am about 10 years younger than I am anyway. And I feel younger than my age, in my head and my outlook. For the most part.
But see? I was expecting that since this is all supposed to be DOWNHILL, that I was going to sit back and CRUISE, baby. And I am here to tell you that THEY LIED.
I have bad knees. I have your middle age spread happening. I have to watch my blood pressure. Perimenopause is kicking my ASS, man. And I’ve got optometrists and their OMG ASTIGMATISM AND WATCH OUT GLAUCOMA IS COMING are all up in my grill. (Because I can’t see them otherwise.)
This? NOT WHAT WAS ADVERTISED.
I expected a fun and exciting downhill ride, like skiing or tobogganing or that great first downhill of a roller coaster. But this? This is a bummer.
So I am going on strike. From now on, I am not getting any older.
Oh, I’ll have birthdays. I LOVE BIRTHDAYS. Presents and parties and cake OH MY. But I just refuse to get older until someone fixes this ride.
Birthdays are excellent. I had a great one last week, full of endless off-tune singing of “Happy Birtday A Yoo” from Stinkerbelle. We had a cake? MADE FROM CUPCAKES.
A CUPCAKE CAKE. I KNOW!!!
We’ve been eating cupcakes for days (and every time singing and blowing out candles to satisfy the three year olds in the house). And I got a Kobo (or as we call it, “The Hobo”) to read books on, which is great fun. And A MAGICAL BOX O’ YARNY GOODNESS which was an excellent treat. And lovely cards and good wishes and food.
See, this I can get behind. But the built-in obsolescence of this body? This body which has all of a sudden (well, okay, to be fair, it didn’t all happen ON FRIDAY or anything, but WHAT EVAH) decided to be a bastard? I am giving it some STERN LOOKS, I can tell you. The odd SNIDE REMARK.
I am UNDERWHELMED.
So, be forewarned, the downhill side of things is not a nice leisurely slalom, with the stemming and the plotzing and the schussing down to the fireside and hot chocolate of the Ski Chalet of Old Age. In reality, it’s just MORE UPHILL, man.
And not nearly enough restroom stops.