Yikes. 

Things are happening and it’s not fun.  Not fun at all.  Now I completely get why old people sit around and talk about their ailments.  It’s because they’re so totally freaked out and fascinated about what’s happening to their bodies they simply feel compelled to find others who understand. Share the grief, if you will. 

I do it now, too.  I have two friends with whom I text on a regular basis.  We joke and laugh, and share and vent about everything and anything and I cannot even tell you how many embarrassing secrets we’ve shared.  (Chicken fat). If we published that stuff, we’d be totally horrified, but incredibly rich.  It’s priceless.  Anyway, I share with these two, things currently happening to my body, or the body I now have.  Honestly, this can’t be my body.  My body would not, under any circumstance, betray me the way this one has. 

My body, the one I rarely appreciated, took somewhat decent care of, and now miss terribly, would not grow chin hairs without prior approval.  That body would not develop these funky little brown spots I initially mistook for freckles, but are, in fact, age spots.  My body would not appreciate age spots.  My body would not, no way, no how, nuh-uh, ever, EVER dribble a little when I pick up the pace on the treadmill, or cough.  N.E.V.E.R. What the hell is that all about? Note to those younger than me.  Kegels.  All day.  Every day.  Kegels.  Who knew those would end up being so important after all? Obviously not me. 

Whomever swapped out my formerly unappreciated, and now terribly missed body, please return it, and take back this crap you left with you because it does not belong here! 

I’m only 46, and just turned, at that.  Yeah, I know, if you consider the average lifespan of a woman (wikipedia reports it as 69, but I’m calling BS on that!), then I am far past ‘middle age’ and well into ‘old age’, but the thing is, while my body may be aging, my mind has yet to catch up. 

Sure, I’m older and wiser, but I still think like I’m a 30-something, so when these old people things start happening to me, I get a little freaked.  Then reality hits and I realize I am, in fact, bordering on the brink of old.  And that makes me want to cry, which by the way, is not something I ever really did until the changes started happening.  Now I seem to tear up at everything.  (remember the moose?) 

Truth be told, I’m okay with the old part.  It’s the changes that happen because of the old part I can do without.  I sleep less, but seem to need more.  I tolerate less unhealthy foods, (which would be a good thing if I were less stubborn!) and gray hair is coarse.  My hair is already a bundle of frizz, I don’t need the wire-like grays to make it worse.  My once tight facial skin seems to hang a little more than before and while I may not have a lot of wrinkles (thank you, God for that!), I feel saggy.  Feeling saggy is not fun. 

Oprah said the new 30 was 40, then she turned 50 and said the new 40 is 50.  I was kind of going with that thought when I hit 40, but I’m not much liking the thought of what 50 is going to bring, even if it’s new.  Had I known my 40’s would include this crap, I would have, well, I don’t know what I would have done, but I wouldn’t have been happy, that’s for sure. 

I can happily report the hot flashes have ceased.  Actually, they stopped a few years ago.  Sadly, that means the real stuff is starting.  I didn’t like the hot flashes, but I’ll take them back if this other crap will hit the road.  

I hear that once I’m through actual menopause life will be great.  Great? Facial hair growing in mass volumes, other important hairs turning gray, sagging facial muscles, DRIBBLING and age spots do not sound great. 

Can someone tell me what the great part is? 

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