Up until just a few months ago, I felt like 52 going on 29.
Right lately, though, I've sort of felt like 52 going on 72. The stiff, achy joints; the sore, tight back; the sore knee -- oy oy oy! When working in the garden, I'm a completely different person than I used to be. It HURTS! I can't reach that zucchini to cut it! I can't bend down to pull those weeds!
This is a rude awakening like no other to me. I was always so critical of people who were "too lazy" to "work hard" and "stay in shape."
I'm lucky compared to many. I don't have Type II diabetes (or anything close to it), I don't have hot flashes (knock wood) or many of the other ailments so common to so many my age. I'm not dead, as are some of my high school classmates. But I do have those blood lipid issues lurking in the background, and I'd better damn well perk up and get rid of these aches and pains. I could have another 45 or 50 years to live, if my genes are any indication, and I don't intend to live them not well.
My name is Norma and I'm middle-aged: Hair dye needed, calorie-counting needed, fiber intake monitoring needed, anti-wrinkle cream needed, no more getting asked for my ID when I buy alcohol.
[sh]It happens, despite our best intentions.
Anyway! I'm not intending to get all morose on ya or anything. My mom's birthday was two days ago, and yesterday I took her out to see Midnight In Paris and to eat French-inspired food at Leunigs (I had beef bourguignon). It was ten freakin' flavors of awesome, all of it. Truth be told, it was just as much my present to myself as it was my present to her. (Bonus!) I wouldn't mind a do-over of the whole thing, in fact.
Here, do this for my birthday: I've adapted it from a meme I've seen on Facebook.
I would like my friends to comment on this post, sharing how you met me. But I want you to LIE. That's right, just make it up.
Let's see how creative you are, and how much you can make me laugh. Laughter is the best medicine, after all.