Relfections on Aging

Here it is, another month in the new year almost at a close. Time is flying by much faster than I would like for my sweet Pumpkin and myself. Lately, I've been in a state of great discontent over aging.

When I approached turning 40 I did so with glee. Overall, my 40's were about the best time of my entire life. I started my business, built a house by myself, reconnected with and married my husband and became a mother. It seems that my entire life's dreams came to fruition in the span of 4-6 years. Now, though, I'm gaining on my 50th birthday and I am quite reticent.

As the big 5-0 comes near, my business is all but closed, I have gained more "quit smoking weight" than it seems I can easily lose, hair has begun to grow in places not meant for a woman and turn gray in most other places not meant to be seen! I've had to get bifocals to see, creams for bad skin, orthotics for bad feet, had more kidney stones than I care to have removed, have breast tenderness that is unbearable and mood swings like a lunatic from under the bridge. Riding in the car with me at certain times of the month can be a colorful walk on the wild side! And I don't like any of it.

While I've never been a "girlie-girl" that spends oodles of time primping and preening, I'd need three extra days in a week to keep up with all the things I have to do now to save myself from geriatric putrefaction. I've got creams to address wrinkles, serums to smooth, lotions for eyes, SPF to prevent MORE skin damage, teeth brushing, flossing to address receding gums, pore shrinkers, lotions for peri-menopause dry skin, heel creams for the leather that is my feet, hand creams......and this doesn't include hair or makeup. Add to this trying to get in 45 minutes to an hour of exercise to help shed the burgeoning growth between my sagging breasts and widening hips....it's a full day by 8 a.m.!

I just can't wrap myself around the fact that in two years I'm going to be 50 years old. That, to me, sounds about as close to grandmotherly-in-a-sweater-and-support-hose as is humanly possible and I'm just not ready to go there. Add to this the road of female aging that leads through the land of menopause....it's just one show i don't want the tickets for. It's scary and depressing.

I've also begun the process of finding a new career which is about as exciting as standing in the high-school gymnasium each Friday night waiting for someone to ask me to dance knowing full well it would never happen. Job hunting is about the quickest way to devalue your own worth outside of trying on bathing suits. What does someone on the verge of 50 do for a new career? At this point in my life I sometimes can find my own car keys, let alone a new job! Good grief, just what I need.

Throughout the entire process of adoption, my age never bothered me. I've always felt that my years on this earth gave me added wisdom to be a better mother, not to mention a desire to mother that made me want my child more resulting in a stronger relationship. Now, as I assess how many new aches and pains and grays and varicose veins and the whole plethora of age-related issues I've noted, I've become very cognisant of how much of my daughters life I may miss. And that makes me very sad. Do I regret my adoption? Not at all. I regret getting older. I can't stop it and I can't control it and those are two more reasons not to tolerate it.

So what do I do? I guess I just strap myself in and ride this journey out. I can hope that 50 will be as good as my 40s, but I'm just not feeling the love, as it were. I could hope that some miracle weight loss will occur and I will lose my werewolf chin, but hope isn't going to get it done this time. I'm going to have to be positive, steadfast and calm. Luckily, I'm so known for such character traits.....NOT! Heaven help my dear husband.