I'm Becoming A New Species

I believe it was Bette Davis who said, "Getting old is not for sissies!"  Boy howdy was she correct.  I have accepted the fact that I am getting older.  Gray hair has been being dyed for twenty years now.  It now takes an act of congress to lose weight (which explains why I am not any lighter).  I have even accepted moderate hearing loss in my right ear.  I draw the line at becoming another species.

It's not bad enough that I seem to becoming another species, I'm not even sure which one it is.  When I look at my neck, I am certain I am becoming a turkey.  The waddle gets more pronounced with every year.  Since I haven't uttered one 'gobble' and I don't run at the sight of a hunter, I guess I'm not a turkey yet.

When I look at the skin on my face, I think I am becoming a Shar pei.  According to Wikipedia Shar pei is: a breed of dog known for its distinctive features of deep wrinkles and a blue-black tongue. The breed comes from China. The name translates to "sand skin" and refers to the texture of its short, rough coat.   Well if it's in Wikipedia it must be true.  My coat is becoming a bit rougher but I think a better after shower moisturizer may solve that problem.  The closest to a blue-black tongue is a deep purple tongue after a nice Cabernet so I'm good there.  I must not be on the road to Shar pei.

Now for my favorite: goat. As I get older I have noticed I get one black hair on the right side of my chin.  I look for it every day, and when I don't find it I celebrate.  Then one day it magically appears (which must be black magic right?) and that sucker is on its way to being 3/4's of an inch long!  "WHERE THE HELL WAS THAT YESTERDAY?",  I say to myself, and more importantly, "DID ANYONE SEE IT?"  No one had reported seeing it, but I do wear a rather substantial make up foundation.   It's either been camouflaged or people are being kind.  Not so bad I think, but I need to be sure. So I have recently taken to inspecting my face in different types of light and a higher magnification mirror. Ouch.  This was either a really good idea, or a really bad one.  I have made the discovery I not only get the one rogue black hair, I am getting white hairs.  The white hairs would be harder to see, but these suckers are coarse, plentiful and curly.  Do you know how long a hair must be to be curly?

This is all very depressing right?  Then I start to think: there is good news here.  I am not becoming another species I'm just getting older.  In her infinite wisdom, Mother Nature is trying to take care of the problem.  Mother Nature makes our eye sight change when we get older doesn't she?  If she couldn't change the hair, wrinkle and waddle thing, she could make sure we don't see them: we get the gift of presbyopia.  It doesn't seem like much of a gift when you can't read a menu in a nice, candle lit restaurant, or when you need a laser to see the small print on a medicine bottle.  It does seem like a wise gift when you discover what getting older looks like.  I am not a wealthy woman and there isn't much of a chance of plastic surgery at this stage.  I can hunt down the hairs and take care of them when I need to.  The good news is, all I have to do to look better is take off my glasses.  Life is good.