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by Lilly GreenI just had a birthday, and I'm not handling it very well. My mind seems to function about the same. I'm even a little bit smarter, in spite of the memory loss. But what has happened to that handy rejuvenating process whereby cells renew themselves daily without being told? For example, why after years of normal growth do these troublesome rogue hairs the size of tree trunks grow straight out of my eyebrows? Plucking causes blood loss, and I'm beginning to look like Burl Ives. And what's with all those little creases that start forming around your eyes and mouth that keep on smiling after you've stopped? What lag in internal communication has caused this change?
I never really had a hint that I was "aging," as such, till I approached my 30th birthday. The realization finally started creeping up on me that Diet Coke was not the fountain of youth. After the sagging flesh and lovely purple stretch marks of childbirth, I felt I needed a bit of a boost to my femininity. So for my birthday, I decided to get my ears pierced in order to wear all those cute little delicate earrings that no one sees under long hair. The boost lasted about a week.
Thirty-five also caused me pause, because "the big four-0" seemed right around the corner. My biological clock was ticking like a bomb. We decided three children weren't enough of a threat to overpopulation, so I got pregnant again. At this point my metabolism ground to a screeching halt. Consequently, for my 40th birthday, I purchased a silvery white panel control girdle for $29.95. Hadn't had one of those things since my teens when I didn't need one. I wore it once, then shoved it to the back of my drawer with my sexy camisoles and one-size-fits-all T-shirts.
Now 50 is sneaking up on me in army boots. I have fearful visions of being asked for my senior citizen's card before its time. That would rank about as high as being asked when the baby is due, and my cryptic response is, "Eleven years ago!"
I mean, when does it happen? When do you grow old? Does it happen in the dead of night? Do you just wake up one morning feeling extremely wise, craving boiled eggs and Metamucil? Do you start feeling anxious about all the books on your shelves left to read and start cramming for the finals? When do you all of a sudden learn how to play bridge?
I think it's a stealth operation. Age is a terrorist that sneaks up behind you unawares and starts taking tiny nibbles out of your life force, one at a time. There you are 20 years of age minding your own business - busy being invincible and cultivating stupid habits that'll take a lifetime to break. Then all of a sudden you wake up one morning, and you're almost 50. The passage of time seems so inconsequential; you hardly even notice, until you receive promises of an AARP card in the mail. The shock finally registers that you've been had - you're a victim of the ravages of time and free radicals.
But it's not my fault. I didn't ask to be middle-aged with toenails that need to be cut with hedge clippers. Did I sign up somewhere for something so lovely and descriptive as liver spots?
I've decided it's my oldest son Christian's fault. After all, if he wasn't 22, then I wouldn't be 49. Or maybe it's my dad and mom's fault. If they had stayed in there 50's where they belonged, I'd still be in my 20's.
People of their generation didn't mind their 50's because they weren't spoiled like us baby boomers. They foolishly expected the passages of time and flowed gracefully from one stage to the next. My generation was raised on television. We aren't emotionally equipped to handle life without plastic surgery, airbrushed perfection, and everlasting reruns.
Well, I've got a year to think this over. I could live in denial from here on out - 49 forever. Or I could hold my breath till my face turned blue, but God's never been inclined to respond to temper tantrums. I guess I could try to accept the inevitable and enjoy the prospects of a quiet empty nest, grandchildren, and unsolicited help out to the car with my groceries. But I'm telling you right now; if I get a sudden urge to be a Wal-mart greeter, I'm marching right out and getting a membership to the fitness club.
~ Lilly Green has been a recording artist and published songwriter, but over the last several years has been busy raising four boys. Currently, she is applying herself to her writing. See her other article on Christian Women Today, Behind the Headlines.
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