FOREVER YOUNG

Repost from 2011 and edited:

From the time we're small children we're taught that growing old is something to be feared, dreaded and avoided at all costs. Just look at what advertising is geared towards! No wonder so may people go through severe upheavals as they reach middle age and start to show signs of wear and tear.

Vanity tells us that as our outer beauty fades we become less desirable in many ways. We see the fate of the elderly and know that someday we will sit where they are. As we furiously diet and exercise to stay fit, is our strife solely for health purposes or is it just a feeble attempt to hold onto our vanishing youth a little longer? Are the botox injections, breast implants or cosmetic surgery another step closer to the fountain of youth or something that society pressures us into considering as a desired partner in the aging process to help us through the mid-life vanity crisis?

Should we focus on the outer beauty and struggle to stay youthful or should we concentrate on the inner beauty and wisdom that comes with age? Shouldn’t we be able to know and feel good that within each of us is the same person we were years ago without feeling self-conscious that the physical part changes? I think I’ll stick with the philosophy "aging is inevitable, but growing old is optional…" That way I can just do whatever feels right for me regarding gray hair and wrinkles, but at 35, I have a few more years before I have to worry about my fading youth. I'm glad to see my sense of humor hasn't declined as my waistline has thickened and my hair has thinned and gotten white along with the myriad complexities of growing older.

This is yours truly at 67. My daughter took this photo of me being my normal goofy self at the Beyond Van Gogh, The Immersive Experience this past Saturday August 12, 2023. I look at it and still see the person I was many years ago and to me, that's a wonderful thing.

BORN TO BE MILD

As I get older, that edge I once teetered on no longer is an edge. It’s more a quiet stroll amongst the herd with no edge in sight. I can’t begin to tell you my dislike for mellowing with age and although it seems to happen to the best of us, every now and then when that wild hair still tickles, I still listen. Okay, it’s not exactly a wild hair anymore. It’s more like an annoying itch that needs to be scratched a little. I have a friend (name excluded to protect the guilty) who definitely understands my need to be "bad" every now and then and indulges me by letting me scratch my itch. Whenever we go see a movie we most always "double-dip". This custom started when we went to see Star Trek. I suppose after watching something that made me think about my misspent youth, I was inspired to scratch the itch by doing a double-dip (the second movie I didn’t pay to see). I walked out of one movie and into another. There definitely are advantages of being an average middle-aged woman. We blend in with the scenery! So as I sat and watched the second movie, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past I did so with a smile on my face. When I realized I was smiling at my own actions and not at anything I was watching, I actually laughed out loud. Age really has mellowed me and that wild hair is so easily sated these days. 

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful to have gone from being born to be wild to being born to be mild all in one lifetime!

*Repost from October 28, 2010

FOREVER YOUNG

I just realized something. The thought really did just pop into my head from out in the cosmos somewhere floating amongst the galactic matter that I, Mildred Ratched have gotten old.  How this happened I don't quite know. I'm puzzled! Confused! Vexed! Flummoxed! Just good old plain mind-blown. I have become THAT OLD WOMAN who bitches and criticizes and complains. When did I start disliking people so much? Is it everyone that I dislike? Am I becoming a crabby troglodyte again? I'll really start to worry if I feel the urge to paint my bedroom Bohemian Red like my previous "cave" was painted. When did I get old? It seems like it happened overnight. Yesterday, I was young and vibrant and today, I'm The Sea Hag. My body doesn't seem to know what muscle tone and tight flesh means anymore. Things grow where they shouldn't and stuff falls out that I wish would stay put. I'm the female version of Archie Bunker, except I'm more pitiful because I don't have anyone to call "Meathead" and unfortunately, Mildred doesn't have a "Judith" or a "Jack/John/Joe or who really cares"...that is, unless one of you dear creatures want to fix me up so I'll have someone of my very own to love, honor and abuse.  I'll bring my own recliner and remote control, of course. Geez! It sounds like a righteous deal to me and on a good day I might even cook a meal. What more could anyone dream for or expect from a relationship? 

GIVE ME A "K"

I realize the aging process isn't easy for anyone. Who isn't what they were 20 or 30 years ago? I think what I fear most about aging is the possibility of becoming like my mother. Although her general health is good, she refuses to do anything. She expects everyone to do everything for her and when asked to do simple things, she just doesn't do them unless she's nagged into it. She takes no responsibility for anything nor does she participate in anything unless I make her participate.

Everyone shrugs their shoulders and looks quizzically to me for answers. Why is Rosalie the way she is? To date that seems to be one of life's unsolved mysteries! Answers? I've got a few for anyone who really wants an answer. The aging process is as hard or maybe even harder on the people who care for the elderly. Yes, I love my mother. It's why I'm here, but most days I feel like I'm being punished. Some days, I feel almost tortured! So is this my atonement with the universe?

Isn't being a good daughter enough or does this rite of passage and role reversal come with a price tag filled only with sadness and frustration? I believe my mother wants to have some major health problem and won't be satisfied until she does. I believe my mother thinks everything should be on her terms and takes things for granted. Regardless of what I say or do and believe me I have said and done everything humanly possible, it makes no difference.

I know there will come a day when I no longer have a mother. When I look towards that time, my heart is filled with regret because what should be a time for her and I to have a strong, loving relationship instead is more like a Custer's last stand. Each step forward always comes with two steps backwards. Maybe if I were 2 or 3 people I could stay completely on top of everything, but I turned in my Wonder Woman boots several years ago.

A simple trip to have a pedicure and manicure yesterday turned into another grim reminder of just how resistant she is towards anything I suggest or ask her to do. I helped her take her shoes off and rolled up her pants legs before she got into the chair to have her pedicure. While rolling her pants legs up I got a well placed slap in the face. Oh, it's wasn't one that might rattle my teeth, but it stung enough to make me brutally aware of her intentions to do nothing.

To make it easy for her I placed a bottle of body lotion on the end table next to where she sits many months ago. The bottle is sitting right next to the telephone and practically stares her in the face screaming, "PLEASE USE ME". I've tried to talk to her and tell her that her skin is dry and needs lotion on it daily. I've emphasized without it, her skin will eventually start to break down and get sores where the dry, flaky skin is. I've learned to assume nothing with her because unless I nag her to do even a small task like that, she won't do it. Needless to say, when I rolled up her pant legs staring at me was the skin of a reptilian creature.

Making a list of daily activities for her is out of the question because she has informed me that is an insult to her. So here I sit bitching about it on my blog...ain't life grand?

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the week I'll be away on a cruise to the Virgin Islands in December.