Making a choice

When did I get old? It just kind of snuck up and blasted me. We got to looking at Bob’s and my wedding pictures the other day. Kelsey even made the comment of "Wow Mom you had great legs." "Had" being the key word to look at in that statement. When it came time for the garter toss I wasn’t shy about showing some thigh. I had it, I flaunted it. Now there is not enough yard goods to cover them up. I go through whole summers without wearing shorts in public and I pass up every opportunity to get into a pool. Between the knee surgeries, weight gain and arthritis….it ain’t pretty. I would not unleash this to an unsuspecting public.

Ok, so my legs have gone south in looks but they also just plain don’t want to function proper. That first step onto the floor in the morning is a painful one. It takes a few minutes before I actually start resembling a walk. Otherwise it looks like……well….you know when your kids have their GI Joes and Barbies how the dolls look as the kids grab them from the waist and pretend they are walking about? That’s me…all stiff legged and waddling.

Then there is the symphonic sounds of the daily body popping and cracking. These are always paired up with a low rumbling groan. First the ankles and knees do their pops and it slowly builds up into the back. Those have a higher pitch and tone until the almost cymbal quality of the neck. And remember those groans. It is quite the melody. All this just to reach my first cup of coffee for the day. There is an encore once I’ve mastered to not drop the coffeepot with my stiff, gnarly hands as I walk to my recliner and plop down there.

Then there is my hair. When I made the choice to not color my hair any longer instead letting my natural color and yes, grey come through, little did I know the grey would accelerate to the degree which it has. The only thing that keeps me from running to Clairol is the hubby and the kids claim to LOVE my grey. I believe them too which is the problem. I’m trying to hold out knowing I am going through this dreadful time of growing out a short haircut and am looking forward to the day I have long hair again. Long white tresses may be romanticized in my mind but I am willing to find out if it ends up being to my liking. Letting the hair grow out has been far more difficult then looking at the grey really. I keep envisioning Tyne Daly in her role on Judging Amy before she cut her gorgeous hair. It was long and grey and I thought it the prettiest thing I ever saw. There have been numerous other ladies, both on tv and off, who I’ve spotted with long grey hair and I think I shall enjoy it. Lets hope.

Should we start in on the wrinkles? Where the heck did they come from? Back when I was 60 pounds lighter they weren’t there. With all this extra weight shouldn’t they have actually not been able to happen given the "fill in" factor of the bulk? And I KNOW I used to have a singular chin once upon a time. Back in 2000 I went to a family reunion where relatives I had not seen in eons thought I was the youngest of the siblings. We were all present and they picked me as the youngest? For those unknowing ones out there….I am the oldest. This did not please my sisters let me tell you. When my daughter went into the service and her peers saw pictures of me they were impressed with how young I was. HAH! Gone are those days of youthful appearance. Gone are the days of feeling youthful too.

Ya know, I don’t mind getting old. It is better than the alternative, what I miss is physical strength. I was never much to look at so that isn’t something lost but I was one physically strong person. Strong like bull like most bohemian women. It gnaws on my pride when I have to have things like jar openers and now looking at getting an electric can opener because my hands won’t do the task any longer. Although I imagine I am largely to blame for the rapid deterioration of my hands given that back in my younger, wilder days I used to punch posts to show how tough I was. Tough? No. Stupid and numbed up from tequila? Yes.

The legs? A lot of time spent playing various sports and numerous bike accidents could be to blame for that. I was never a girlie-girl. I was as physical and tough as they came. I should have asked for a Barbie instead of a baseball mitt I guess.

I can blame genetics too. It is a long history of blood pressure issues in my family as to why I am on meds for that and the same with the cholesterol levels and why my blood should technically be considered a solid. I’ve never had a heart attack but the doctor has me on low dose aspirin because of my risk factors for stroke and heart attack. Is that a warm fuzzy or what?
But you know what? My dad died when he was 53. In five years I’ll be that age God willing. He grumbled and complained about his aches and pains too. He had a few heart attacks before that final one got him. I’m not sure he ever enjoyed himself. Now my mom on the other hand, she just turned 72. She has lived a hard life, has had a heart attack and cancer. Her needlework hobby has been taken from her because she has developed severe tremors and her mind drifts on occasion and financially she is getting-by and is inspiring in how she manages. But a happier woman cannot be found. She doesn’t let anything hold her down. Oh there was a time in her life where she was horribly oppressed but once she found freedom from that she never went back. When she loses one thing she ventures out and finds something else to replace it. THIS is what I want, the spirit and strength that she has. It is all about choice. I think I want to be like my Mama. I think I will start today.

Philippians 4:11