DivineCaroline

Graceful Aging and Other Lies

Do you know who thinks women age easily and with grace? Men. Well, they can just KISS MY GRITS. No sane woman who is surviving the aging process would be so stupid as to spout such nonsense.

I have no doubt that there are a few women who are able to achieve this phenomenon. But, they have a personal trainer, dietician, and plastic surgeon on speed dial. To most of us, aging stinks.

Are you aware that menopause is actually three phases? No? Well neither was I. That is just the beginning of things I am finding out the hard way.

Phase one is when the hot flashes start. This is when you leave a full shopping cart sitting in Wal-Mart, sprint out to your mini van, dive in the back, and rip off your shirt before you die of heat stroke. This is when your once-firm jaw starts to rival a bulldog’s profile. This is when your butt begins to slide toward the backs of your knees. Now, deep craters frame your eyes and the backs of your arms begin to wave in the breeze. Grace, who is she?

Phase two is the actual, menopause stage. This stage lasts two or six or ten years. Hurrah. This is the time of night sweats, continuing hot flashes, and memory loss. You forget your keys, where your car is parked, and possibly your husband’s name. You have mood swings. Big mood swings. You go from dancing around like a mad puppet and calling your sister at 2 a.m. to tell her an elephant joke, to sitting in a corner with a bag over your head. You are happy. You are depressed. You cry ... a lot ... over nothing. I like the dancing part better. It does tend to make your sister say bad words, however.

The last phase is called Post-Menopause. The definition of post, to me, is that post means after. As in, after you have dealt with all the aggravation and can get on with your life. Not true!

Post refers to the wooden object you feel like banging your head against during this time. Post means, after your skin has sagged so far, that your legs look like you are wearing wrinkled support hose. Post means, after you have lost your eyesight, hearing, and teeth. Post means after you have given up on curing the night sweats and learned to sleep naked. Post means that whatever has been happening for the past ten or so years will continue for the rest of your natural born days. Post is a word that lies.

I have given this aging thing a great deal of thought. After determining that the odds of my winning the lottery are slim to none, I have to pursue other means of fighting age. The simplest way, to me, is just to refuse to get older. Peter Pan did it. Jack Benny did it. I can do it.

Logically, if you refuse to accept something or totally ignore it, then it will simply not exist. Right?

First published April 2009
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