Aging Less Than Gracefully

Steve was walking around the house with the local free paper in his hands and out of nowhere asked me “Where is the Council on Aging here in town?”

We are retired, but only in our mid fifties. This seemed an odd question.

“Why? Something good happening there?” I queried.

“I’m aging,” he said, “and I want to go to the council.”

“Hmm. To do what? Ask them to stop?”

I had just been lamenting to myself about the issues that come with aging, like less than perfect near sight. Not seeing stray hairs growing in the places that they shouldn’t, like the top of my big toe, until I was out in bright sunlight when everyone else could see them, too, was particularly aggravating. Short of sodium lights in the bathroom and mirrors that magnify enough to scare the bejeebers out of me when I look in them I guess I’m stuck with cheater glasses in every room and an occasional hair making an uninvited appearance. I’ll do my best to keep them under control so I don’t gross out the rest of you.

My biggest issues with aging are regarding the changes in our health. I really do want to live a long and healthy life, but the longevity gods do not make it easy. I’d much rather sit with a book or write a blog than get up and run around. And why’d they make sugar, fat, red meat, salt, adult beverages and chocolate taste so good if we weren’t supposed to eat them? I understand the diet and exercise habit required to keep the doctors at bay. But daily chemotherapy drugs that wreak havoc with the balance in one’s internal organs don’t make it easy. Just when I think today I will (fill in the blank here: could be do power yoga, lift weights, go an extra mile on the treadmill) I invariably get hit with a nasty side effect that has kept me up all night or incapacitated me all morning. I’ll spare the gory details. Treating side effects with more drugs has always seemed a slippery slope to me, so I don’t (unless things get really bad or we are traveling).

Which is why it is so easy for me to say screw it, I should just enjoy myself. This time, though, I haven’t. I’ve said no to overindulging most of the time. I’m still cooking lighter, drinking less, and exercising more. I just haven’t gone to a Weight Watchers weigh-in for a bit. I’m guessing I’ll probably be up a pound, as restaurant meals have been more frequent, I’ve done a bit of stress eating and we’ve entertained a lot in the last month. It’s amazing how Skinny Cow Ice Cream Sandwiches, with just 150 calories, can be passed off as a real dessert.

I do plan to go back to Weight Watchers, hopefully next week, and resume my quest for thinness and immortality. But first perhaps an ice cream sandwich.