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Reflections on an olden eye



   I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I got to be 51 years old when it feels like just yesterday I was blow drying my feathered hair, pulling on my painter’s pants and grabbing my backpack before I went off to a college class. It’s like I blinked and it was over. With that in mind, I think there may be a few common factors for those of us who are growing older, while our hearts are still at that kegger party from 30 years ago.
   You know you’re getting older when: You find saucers in the cabinet with dried food on them.
   You know you’re getting older when: Your husband helps you put on your socks.
   You know you’re getting older when: You no longer look forward to water slides.
   You know you’re getting older when: You get dizzy watching your grandchildren ride a merry-go-round.
   You know you’re getting older when: Your friend tells you she has named one of her varicose veins: Veinessa.
   You know you’re getting older when: You hope for an underactive thyroid diagnosis.
   You know you’re getting older when: Your well-constructed outfits could qualify as play clothes.
   You know you’re getting older when: You start to refer to the television programs you watch as “My shows.”
   You know you’re getting older when: Your children start asking you how your doctor’s appointment went.
   You know you’re getting older when: You start to think of applesauce as dessert.
   You know you’re getting older when: You wear your sandals three seasons because they’re the only shoes that feel good.
   You know you’re getting older when: Everyone else tells you the television is too loud.
   You know you’re getting older when: You have to grab onto the arms of the chair to push yourself out of it.
   You know you’re getting older when: You think a hot date is a walk to the library and a stop at the drugstore to pick up some rubbing alcohol.
   You know you’re getting older when: You start buying fig newtons and stop buying pantyhose.
   And you know you’re getting older when you think more and more about that old kegger party and less and less about what you’re going to wear tomorrow. 


   “I grow old … I grow old …I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.” ― T.S. Eliot

Comments

Connie Berry said…
have to shout out to debbie for her beloved varicose vein....or as i thought it was in elementary school...her "very close" vein.
March 6, 2013 at 8:05 AM
Deb said…
She's NOT "beloved", she's reviled! I hate that Veinessa. And I still have feathered hair, it's just that it's now gray and wiry. Hot, huh?
March 6, 2013 at 5:13 PM
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