Desperately Seeking the Fountain of Youth…on December 18, 2012 at 5:00 am
In the summer of 1994, I had a dirty little trick played on me. The late R&B songbird, Aaliyah somehow managed to convince me that “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number” It wouldn’t be until 18 years later when I would learn the ugly truth… and as my wardrobe made the change from plaid bodysuits and chokers to the one pair of jeans that doesn’t completely accentuate my post-pregnancy front-butt and the Hub’s crew socks, my eyes began to open. Age is WAY more than a number! But, crap… now I’m totally noticing the double negative in the song’s title… “ain’t nothing” Does “nothing” actually count as a negative? SO, I just Googled “definition”… so I could be transported to an online dictionary and that bitch totally just sent me to the definition of “definition” Nicely played, Google… Anywho, let’s attempt to move on… because in all honesty, I’ve already made diagrams of the phrase and it’s different possible meanings and to make a long story short…I kind of feel like I’m arguing with myself… and that’s not cool.
So, back to the opening of my eyes… This month, in my 34th year of life… I feel as though my innocence has been lost (again) “Age” is cool… like, in small-ish portions… Shoot, I was even tricked into thinking that my 30s were going pretty well. How horribly fucking naïve, I was… and yes, the “f” word WAS necessary. Bite me. Allow me to explain…
In your 34th year, all those previous years of half-assed tooth brushing and random decade-ly dentist appointments will turn on you. One day you’ll be innocently flossing and a little piece of the floss will somehow get stuck. One gentle tug is all it will take for the floss to be released… along with a chunk of the back of your tooth. Your FRONT tooth… You will spend the next 20 minutes trying to determine if that was actual “tooth” that flew through the air, sticking to your mirror… or plaque. When you sit down, days later, to write a blog about your experience… you will still find yourself unsure.
Sometime during your 3rd decade of life you will come down with the flu… after getting a flu shot. This flu will continue to get worse… and worse. You find yourself laying on the floor, dragging your body around by your chin because your arms and legs just feel so damned exhausted. Between the fatigue, the dizziness and what seems to be your diminishing brain capacity… you will find yourself counting the minutes until it’s time to swallow another bottle of melatonin so that you can once again be free of this newly decrepit body you have found yourself in… At around the 3 month mark a well-meaning spouse/friend/parent will wrap you in duct tape and throw you into the back of their car. You will wiggle around, as they drive, until you pass out… vaguely hearing the well-meaning spouse/friend/parent mumbling how you are a ”hard-headed stupid bitch” as your lead-filled eyes finally close. You will wake in a doctor’s office and after half of your body’s blood has been removed, for analysis, you will be told that you don’t have the 2,208 hour flu. You’re actually hypoglycemic…. and guess what!!! This is probably just some of the fireworks that is Pre-Diabetes!!! Don’t get too excited… the only prize you’re going to get is a blood glucose monitor and after the first 7 tests… it’s really not that fun anymore.
In my previous 33 years, I have definitely had my “duh” moments… but those could mainly be attributed to youth and stupidity. This year… Year 34… I truly believe that my brain is attempting to move out… like, under the cover of darkness so I won’t notice, or something. Seriously… every new day that I wake up, I feel a little less intelligent than I had the day before. There are days when I spend over half of my waking hours walking around in a blind stupor. If I realize I need a baggie for the sandwich I just made… I will walk past the drawers, housing the baggies, to the refrigerator… open the door and stare inside. As soon as that door opens, I have NO CLUE what I’m there for… I’m just staring, my brain is pitch black. I will look back to where I had came from, see the sandwich and be like… “cheese?”
If I am in my car, headed to a doctors appointment, as soon as I turn off of my street I will have absolutely NO clue where the doctor’s office is. This is the same doctor’s office that I have been to for over 15 years…. and I will just drive, because it’s gotta come to me sometime, right? … and it usually does, after about 2 blocks of aimless driving… and finally, a couple weeks ago, I decided it would be wise to buy one of those giant pallets of eggs… since that seems to be the only thing I can eat without having a reaction. After hard-boiling about 12 of the 453 eggs, I put them all into a large bowl, to keep in the refrigerator. I wouldn’t realize how dumb that was until I was attempting to make pancakes for the kids, one morning and kept accidently cracking the hard-boiled eggs. I’m not sure exactly what the correct thing to do would have been in that situation, but I’m sure as hell that it wasn’t to put the partially cracked open hard-boiled eggs back into the bowl o’eggs… where they are still sitting, as I type this…
So, as you can see… 34 sucks! It sucks real bad… well, actually it seemed to be going ok until the last few months… but, still…. what was I saying? Squirrel?
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