Happy Birthday to Meeeeeee

Yep, today’s my birthday.  So I get to reflect on life in general and take a day off from everything else.

What you get when you put in 54 years…

1.  Gray hair – it’s a fact of life.  I think I can still call it salt and pepper.  Definitely more salt, with pepper in swift retreat.   I’m not coloring it. Been there – done that.  My hair grows so fast, I get a skunk stripe in about three weeks.  I feel like each gray hair represents maturity and wisdom…so, it’s a keeper.

2. Poor Eyesight – My eye doctor had the nerve to say that my vision difficulty was just old age eyes.  So what if I can’t see a blasted thing without glasses - my ability to see people and situations is clearer than ever.  I’m keeping the peepers and looking at new glasses.  I got a new doctor, too.
 
3.  Wrinkles - especially around the eyes. The collagen is fading as fast as my eyesight.  I think these clue people to the fact that I’m not in my 30’s.  Recently, my pastor mentioned to me that he wanted to start a group for the 55 and older set.  I snorted back that I wasn’t 55, or for that matter, 54!  He hasn’t come up and given me a hug after church.  Or, maybe he did and I just couldn’t see him.  Anyway, it must be the wrinkles – they are a dead give away.  With the right glasses, I bet I can keep from looking like I might be heading towards 55.

4.  Memory Loss - Where did my memory go, I can’t find it anywhere.  I don’t remember where I parked my car, but I can remember the names of my 5th grade classmates.  I can’t complete a clear thought, but I can recite all of the states in alphabetical order to the tune of Turkey in the Straw.  I’m sticking with this one because I’ve got a lot stored on the hard drive.

5.  Bags – and I’m not talking about Dooney and Burke.  Things keep creeping closer and closer to the ground.  Pretty soon, I’m going to have to hire someone to put it in a wheelbarrow and follow from behind.  I’m filing this under, I don’t want to think about it anymore.

6.  The Middle – I’m not talking about bulges, either.  Grown kids on one side who want/need you and aging parents on the other side who want/need you.  Who are those unfettered 50-something’s in commercials who ride motorcycles and hang glide.  I’ve got too many responsibilities.  I don’t want a motorcycle, I’d prefer an assistant.

You know you no longer relate to young people when being excited about going to bed with your man means getting to sleep before 9pm.


That's what 54 looks like.