I hate getting older.
Sure the alternative is that I stop getting older because I am dead, but all told, the pain-in-the-ass little things that accompany wisdom with age are annoying.
In my 30s I began to go grey. When I was 40, I cut my pony-tail - grown for the last time - off.
I did it for two reasons:
One - because I was 40 and not George Carlin.
Two - because I had developed grey in my long curly and wavy tresses (it was half-way down my back). Now grey I could handle (maybe)... but this was a long patch of 22-inch-long white grey hair that went straight down the middle of my long hair.
I looked like a chocolate version of Pepe LePew...
So I cut off those wonderful tresses… have you ever seen the Wizard of Oz movie - the original…. you know what the cowardly lion looked like? That was my hair. I was beautiful in a masculine sort of way.
Man... I was the king of the forest.
Put'em-up, old age… I'll fight you with one paw behind my back.
Ugh... I'm going broke buying boxes of Just For Men.
In my 20s and early 30s, I often grew a French-cut beard in a few days - and looked pretty good in it… but then the grey hairs started popping up on my face. And now I won't grow a beard again. Too much salt and not enough pepper.
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And now it's grey hairs in my nose! WTF is that? Why is it wiry? Why does it grow so fast? Why is it clustering right near the front? I also have to trim the nose hairs nearly daily or I'll go completely feral!
My eyebrows… who would have thought it… I really have to pay attention to my eyebrows… the frigging things want to start growing all over the place like an unkempt Russian garden. So I get out the weed whacker and deal with it.
At least I have always plucked the few odd hairs to ensure I had two eyebrows. Those don't seem to be growing as much anymore.
But… I have also noticed that my hairline is receding…. and why is there a single ultra fine blonde hair growing out of the middle of my forehead?!
I've slept with many a blonde honey, but have never, myself, been a blonde before. Also… I'm pretty sure my hairline was never that low. Caveman yes, low hairline like that - never!
And why is that single hair suddenly four inches long?! I searched for it yesterday and it wasn't there - but it's there today!
And is my hair thinning at the back?! Oh crap! It is! Why is my hair thinning back there?
Why is there hair growing out of my ears? I'm plucking those bastards all the time! And shaving the fuzz on the lobes!
Thankfully I'll never know if I'm going grey down... there.
But dammit… my chest is going grey. And are those grey hairs on my arm?! I have to pluck them, too!
And I don't even want to know what's going on on my back!
Okay… enough of the hair brained comments…even though I have always been particularly vain about my hair. It was the one vanity I had that I would admit to.
How come I'm suddenly a size 11-1/2 shoe? I was a 10-1/2 until two years ago! And now I also have an extra wide foot? What the hell? I used to have the perfect foot-long foot… now it's bigger! And wider. Oh well… at least I won't tip over anytime soon.
And… a big foot means a larger wang, right? Let me check. Nope… it's not growing. Dammit. I probably shouldn't have checked that here at work.
Growing older, I find that I grunt as I sit down and grunt as I get up. It's not a strenuous activity, so why I am doing it?
I tore my meniscus (fibrous cartilage in my knee) two years ago doing Tae Kwon Do. Thank god it was something macho like that.
I tore it when I was stretching my quad muscles… kneeling and then leaning backwards. When I was younger… even as little as 10 years ago… I could lie all the way back and place my back flat on the ground with my legs under me. Years of soccer and years of cardio and weight training at the gym were also part of my routine… granted… I hadn't been part of a serious training regimen since 1999…but even as I lay vertically declined and pushed weights in the 700-pound range and higher, I always joked that the muscles would never fail me, but my knees would.
Who knew that I was Nostradamus the Second. Not I, apparently, or I would never have abused my knees that much.
This time - pop goes the meniscus, and now I have something that needed an X-Ray, and MRI and a CT Scan to diagnose. The good news? I don't need an operation because it's only a Level 2 tear. The bad news? It never heals. It hurts when I run or kick a soccer ball or climb the stairs or cross my legs for too long… I can only make it worse, get to a Level 3, have an operation and not have it feel any better because the arthritis pain that started after I hurt it, will always be there.
On the plus side, I'm teaching myself to kick a ball with my left foot... but planting that right leg to properly strike it is a bugger.
I've already had my first kidney stone. High cholesterol? Sleep apnea? Need to cut down on sugar…
Oh - how the mighty have fallen.
In my late 20s and 30s, women used to chase me for dates... and now... even if I caught fire at work I don't think a woman would stop to even spit on me a little.
I can barely stand to look at myself in the mirror… which is okay, because….
This past February through April… my vision went south and now I was told I needed to wear glasses… on top of my contact lenses when I want to read a book or write - which sucks considering I'm a writer and voracious reader.
And why do I hate so many things? Have I become a grumpy old man? The only positive is that I haven't been grumpy enough to write a blog here in five months - but my buddy Christian at the Toronto west LEGO store kind of urged me to write one this past Monday... so this one is for you!
Is this middle age? Will I live to be 100? No? Then I'm long past middle age! That sucks even more, now that I have actually written it.
On the plus side… I still have my health. Riiiii-iiight.
Do you know what I hate?
I hate getting older.
