I’ve been obsessing over numbers lately. Yes, it’s a C.P.A. thing (my other profession), it’s tax time, and it’s also spring. You see during the past month or so:
- my dad celebrated his 82nd birthday
- my son turned 23 far away in London-town during exams
- my daughter, the Hippie-Dippie Wildchild, much to our horror became legal everywhere when she turned 21
- my husband, The Original Obnoxious One, reached the grand old age of 55
- and my hubby and I celebrated our 31st wedding anniversary
So I am feeling rather tired from all that celebrating and a little…ancient.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four?
Also The Original Obnoxious One and I saw Sir Paul McCartney in concert when he passed through Vancouver in late April. There was a lot of press and social media about the fact that Sir Paul is 73 – for good reason.
He was incredibly energetic and funny and warm and of course, a Musical Super-Power. I’ve never seen him in concert before so this was quite the thrilling experience for me. A great big tick off the old bucket list.
But back to the ageing thing.
When I get older, losing my hair
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine,
birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
About 18 years ago I had laser eye surgery; I was extremely near-sighted so afterwards this meant I could see clocks and computer screens and drive without peering through 3 inch thick lenses . It totally changed my life for quite awhile.
But then I turned 50 – ouch. I actually needed reading glasses – purchased from the local drug store – to read the newspaper at night. And then during the day. And then to read anything at all. But I’m not the only one.
And I even have bifocal sunglasses for reading outside!
Recently while walking Franklinstein in the woods not far from where we live, I ran into an old colleague, a girl from back in my C.P.A. articling days. We walked and hiked together, chatted up a storm.When I whined about turning older and becoming near-sighted, her response was:
Look Rita. Yes, I need reading glasses too but here’s the thing. In the morning when I get up and look in the mirror (sans glasses) I think I look amazing – no wrinkles, no grey hair on my head and no hair on my legs.All is good!
Of course the reality is just a wee bit different.
My friend does have a few wrinkles – after-all she has 2 boys roughly the same age as my kids and has been married for almost 30 years. She does have quite a number of grey hairs on her head as her hair is naturally quite dark and she doesn’t dye it. And she does use reading glasses for absolutely everything.
So then I felt a bit better – someone else was suffering just like me!
You’ll be older too.
Ah, and if you say the word,
I could stay with you.
Except I don’t have the issue of grey hair, because I have very expensive blonde highlights in my mousey brown baby-fine hair. Hairy legs – shockingly yes whenever I put on my glasses and look at them. Otherwise who knows?!
And the drug store near me carries all kinds of cool and colourful reading glasses for folks like me – I should know because at any given time I have at least 4 at the house. One pair for upstairs, one pair for downstairs, one sturdy pair for reading in bed and one floater pair.
And by the way, The Original Obnoxious One also has several pairs of readers lying around the house, and at the office and in his gym bag, and in his briefcase.
Most of the time I don’t really think about the whole aging thing. I’m active – I walk Franklinstein whatever the weather and we dance together regularly,
I do Pilates, I eat healthy for the most part and I smile. A Lot. Except when I don’t. Like when I’m reading or concentrating or writing. That’s when The Original Obnoxious One lets loose with his own unique brand of obnoxiousness.
Each and every evening.
Rita, what’s wrong? Smile! You look sad..or miserable..or angry. Be happy!
Here’s the thing. Nine times out of ten I am happy. I’m not miserable or sad or even angry – unless someone in my family did something incredibly stupid.
Again. You know who you are!
But l do have wrinkles (a couple) and gravity does weird things to my face.
Okay, I confess, I have RBF – Resting Bitch Face.
Get over it!
Lyrics of When I’m Sixty Four courtesy thebeatles.com