Mentally I act 22. Physically I feel 35 (ok, maybe sometimes). But really I am middle aged. There is no question. Because no matter how much I try to act like a college student, I am not. How do I know? Let me count the ways.
I may be in the best physical shape of my life at this moment, but if I sit in one position for longer than, let’s say, 8 minutes, my legs feel like they’ve been put through a chipper.
When I’m done peeing, I’m not done peeing. I realize this only when somehow a little extra has escaped when I least expect it. I’m not sure why I am surprised when this happens.
If I so much as look at a plate of nachos, I gain 2 pounds.
I tragically mistook the guitar riff from Led Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown” for cicadas. But just for a second, until I came to what’s left of my senses.
What’s with these kids listening to their music so loudly? Don’t they know they’ll go deaf?
I have the memory of a goldfish. No really. Wait, what was I talking about?
Reading glasses are now an accessory. Like a necklace with benefits. Sometimes you will see me with 2 or 3 of them piled on top of my head. You know, just in case I misplace a pair and can’t remember where I put it.
There is hair where there shouldn’t be. Like at the end of my chin. And extra long 4″ hairs growing from my brow. And they are gray. If I had known they were there, I would have plucked them. But I can’t see.
I recently spent a bit too much time trying to rub an age spot off the back of my hand.
My knees have wrinkles. Even with all the cardio I do. When I run and look down, they appear to be frowning at me. My knees are not very inspirational.
2 drinks feel like 10. Even when it’s just Kool-Aid.
Ok, I’m done. I could go on, but I’m getting depressed. And I have to go and take my Metamucil. See you at the Early Bird Special.
I do not suffer from motion sickness. I can fly in a plane, be the extreme backseat passenger in a car, ride roller coasters, be in a boat in the high seas. I’m one of the lucky ones. Except once. When I was about 7. Coming back from Germany.
We were heading back to the States after an Army stint in Germany. I remember 4 things about the plane ride home. 1) Puke; 2) coffee; 3) two floors; and 3) darkness.
I don’t know what made me feel sick, but I remember begging my dad to take me to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the bathroom was occupied. If I recall correctly, I sat back down in my seat or was in the approximate area. I vomited all over the woman sitting next to me (so much for barf bags, my only opportunity to actually use one). All over her and her floor length fur coat. That was my first memory of that flight.
The stewardess (I’m not being politically incorrect, this was the ’70’s) cleaned it up with loads and loads of coffee grinds. I don’t know what happened to good old Pine Sol. Maybe they ran out. I’m not sure if the coffee cleaned it, but it did cover up the smell. Can’t get a good whiff of Maxwell House without thinking of throw-up. That was memory #2.
I watched Sex and The City Part 2 recently. The ladies were on a plane with 2 levels. One level had a bar. I was jealous. Then I remembered my flight home from Germany had 2 levels. Completely wasted on a 7 year old. I want a do-over. Memory #3.
I lived in a country for 2 years where it was dark a lot of the time. And I was afraid of the dark. When we landed in New York and it was dark, I was confused. I never thought it was because it was something like 3 in the morning. Yup, #4.
Isn’t it funny how your brain only remembers certain parts of an event? And even then, we aren’t sure if those memories are correct. My memory could be completely different from my brother’s memory of the same event. I know, this is some deep thinking. Don’t hurt yourself. I think I did.