Today is my birthday, I am now 46… that scary transitional year when you inched past your mid-forties and find yourself officially pushing 50.
I don’t hate the older part because I’m wiser and stronger than I’ve ever been. My skills are more refined and I’ve found capacities within myself that I never knew existed. Even better, I know who I am and what I want. What I despise is the aging process that comes with the package, in short, it’s a dirty trick. As soon as you finally get good and smart, you slam face first into your 40’s and your metabolism throws on the brakes. There you are out walking your daughter’s dog as part of your daily ritual, every year putting on more and more miles hoping to retard the decomposition of your appearance and wishing the dog would quit lifting it leg every ten paces.
I have it figured that over the next several years, it may very well be necessary for me to trek across the Canadian border and back if I want to retain my current figure, all that work and I’m still too rectangular. Rating just as bad as the whole metabolism issue is the changes in hair and skin. At various points in adapting to change, getting ready seems more like an assembly project complete with string and glue… okay, I may have exagerated on the string and glue part but under the circumstances I reserve the right to do whatever it takes.