They Say It's Your Birthday
As a member of the baby-boomer generation, I am well aware that skin will sag – crow’s feet will take flight and spread – the tummy pouch is here to stay, and my bed time gets earlier every season. I’m ready for the AARP; ready for the senior discount at the local diner; ready for the 10% off at my favorite department store. I realize there will be so many candles on my cake this year that the (younger) husband will have to keep the fire extinguisher under the kitchen table. I know my bones creak – my ankles swell and (3) hours of housework tires me. And I’m really ok with all of that.
What concerns me is my memory… and where did it go? I place my eyeglasses in the frig and the soda pop can in my purse. I mean to put in a fresh roll of toilet paper and find myself carrying in the paper towels instead. I read a good novel, mark the page and then misplace the book. I put the checkbook out for dinner and then find I’m in line at the fast food restaurant without my pocketbook. I sign for cash at the bank, lose the receipt and then take 3-7 days to locate the envelope with the two $50 bills in it. What is happening to my brain? I wonder if will it get worse in the coming years in spite of all the B-12 I take each morning. Will I forget to zip my pants, take the curlers out of my hair, and leave the PM mud mask on when I drive to the Conoco station? Will I put out the cat that has no collar and tag, and leave the full trashcan in the house instead? Maybe I’ll turn on the bath and then watch a 60-minute documentary as the bubbles fill the living room. Then I stop to think perhaps I AM THINKING TOO HARD. Perhaps I need to slow down the juggling act; jot down a short “To Do” list and simply start over. I’M DANCING AS FAST AS I CAN. I’m not a stupid woman, just a busy one with many irons in the fire. So look the other way if you see my purse on top of my car as I travel down the highway, or my floral skirt caught in the door jam.
I’m not 30 anymore and the brain cells may be shrinking, but my humor continues to blossom. I’m not 40 anymore and the skin is dry, but I’m not ready to wrap myself up like an Egyptian mummy. I’m not 50 anymore and the puffiness around the eyes doesn’t go down like it use to. Memory farts could be due to age / lack of hormones / not enough sleep / too much sugar / not enough Vitamin C & D / too little exercise and far too many tasks. But I say “Continue forward women”; fight the good battle; shake out the cobwebs; learn new skills; buy colored Post-Its and place them around the house in an effort to remember what you deemed important just moments ago. And don’t forget to laugh at yourself – it’s the best medicine of all.
What concerns me is my memory… and where did it go? I place my eyeglasses in the frig and the soda pop can in my purse. I mean to put in a fresh roll of toilet paper and find myself carrying in the paper towels instead. I read a good novel, mark the page and then misplace the book. I put the checkbook out for dinner and then find I’m in line at the fast food restaurant without my pocketbook. I sign for cash at the bank, lose the receipt and then take 3-7 days to locate the envelope with the two $50 bills in it. What is happening to my brain? I wonder if will it get worse in the coming years in spite of all the B-12 I take each morning. Will I forget to zip my pants, take the curlers out of my hair, and leave the PM mud mask on when I drive to the Conoco station? Will I put out the cat that has no collar and tag, and leave the full trashcan in the house instead? Maybe I’ll turn on the bath and then watch a 60-minute documentary as the bubbles fill the living room. Then I stop to think perhaps I AM THINKING TOO HARD. Perhaps I need to slow down the juggling act; jot down a short “To Do” list and simply start over. I’M DANCING AS FAST AS I CAN. I’m not a stupid woman, just a busy one with many irons in the fire. So look the other way if you see my purse on top of my car as I travel down the highway, or my floral skirt caught in the door jam.
I’m not 30 anymore and the brain cells may be shrinking, but my humor continues to blossom. I’m not 40 anymore and the skin is dry, but I’m not ready to wrap myself up like an Egyptian mummy. I’m not 50 anymore and the puffiness around the eyes doesn’t go down like it use to. Memory farts could be due to age / lack of hormones / not enough sleep / too much sugar / not enough Vitamin C & D / too little exercise and far too many tasks. But I say “Continue forward women”; fight the good battle; shake out the cobwebs; learn new skills; buy colored Post-Its and place them around the house in an effort to remember what you deemed important just moments ago. And don’t forget to laugh at yourself – it’s the best medicine of all.