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A Puddle in my Panties- And other fun things that happen when you're over 50.

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Back when I was in my early thirty's, I was ripped. No kidding, I went to the gym 5 or 6 days a week, I was a flight RN, which is a very physical job, and I wore a bikini for the first time in my life. I spent the summer at the pool or at the beach. I worked hard, and I played hard. Now the only thing hard in my life is the liquor I want to drink when I look into a mirror. How did this happen? When did I get old?

The first "old age" thing I noticed were my toenails. I used to love getting pedicures. Now, I practically need to use a band saw just to trim my nails. They've become gnarly and tough. The funny thing is, the worst foot is my left, which is my healthy foot. I have RSD in my right foot that's led it to change funny colors and the skin to thicken.

But, unfortunately, that's not the only thing that's changed in my life. Now i can barely make it to the bathroom to pee. Yes, the other day I actually saw A PUDDLE OF PEE in my panties! I can't exactly run, but I do move fast when it's time to go. Inevitably, I end up with wet panties. I see the TV commercials for "leaky pipes" and think, oh, what a wonder drug! But, once again, God was laughing at me. I was diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis (IC) about 12 years ago, so I can't take the new miracles of science. So, I'll be buying stock in Poise Pads soon. Next, I can see myself trolling the aisles of Walgreens, trying to find which Depends I need.

And then there's my hair. I've always had beautiful hair, and I spent a small fortune keeping it looking that way. I went to the salon every six or eight weeks, for coloring, highlights, deep conditioning and a cut. It was a guilty pleasure and I looked forward to my hair appointments. Now, for some reason, my hair knots easily. I use a conditioner when I wash it, but every morning I wake up, look in the mirror and it looks like I'm wearing a really, really bad Halloween wig. Plus the "few gray hairs" have turned into the Pepi LePeux look. Thankfully, there is an invention to fix that - it's called hair coloring. Mine is chocolate brown and I get it through e-salon, a very cool website that evaluates and mixes just the right color for you. And they are kind enough to ship it to you every 6 weeks or so.

Of course, the boobs are a problem. When I was younger, I was proud of my bosums. Men liked my bosums, women were jeolous of them. But somehow north of fifty, my boobies went south. I mean, really south. When I was 7 or 8 years old, I accidently opened my grandmother's door while my mom and aunt were giving her a bath. Her breasts were practically hitting the floor. It was an image that was burned in my brain, everytime I even thought about going braless. "Yours will be just like grandmom's if you don't wear a bra!", my mom intoned in me.
So I always wore a bra. So why the hell are my boobs resting on my stomach now? Another one of God's little jokes? All I can say to you flat-chested woman, be thankful that you are!

Add to all of the above, my double chin. It started out as puffiness, when I was on high doses of prednisone. When I tapered it down, finally last year, my face thinned, but the double chin stayed. Believe me, there is no skin cream in the world that will help my chin. Only a good plastic surgeon can. And I don't have the money to fix my face, or my boobs for that matter. Oh, to be rich! I'd be first in line at the plastic surgeons office- as long as he has a bathroom nearby!

The moral of the story is this: enjoy your body while its firm, taunt and small. There WILL be a day, when you look in the mirror and say, "Oh my God, I've turned into my grandmother!" And for some of us, the day has come much too early. I thought I'd be 80 before things would fall, or try to escape my body before I'm ready. You may see me on the street one day, with a sigh that reads, "I'll work for plastic surgery". But, like most beggars, I'll be ignored by those young bodies, who thing it won't happen to them. Believe me, IT WILL!


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