Bifocals and blackheads…

I turned 50 this past summer.  Yes, 50.

I’m not really the type that gets worked up too much over age – after all, once you hit LEGAL age, it’s only math.

There are certain things that I’ve noticed in getting older, aside from the usual aches and pains.  The “flying squirrel” arms that come from the better part of my life gaining and losing a lot of weight.  The stretch marks that seem to accompany this same cycle.

I find that I’m rather stuck in my ways when it comes to certain things.

Food – why eat garbage simply because it has a TV ad?

Clothing – take care of what you have and it may last a long time.

Shelter – why is bigger and harder to clean better?

At times I suspect that I’m actually regressing rather than progressing when it comes to daily life.  I find now that I have a little more time to stop and actually look at things I notice things a whole lot more now than I ever did.

I find the older I get the less patience I have for idiots.  At the rate this is going I’m certain to be the original miserable old bat that sits on the porch and yells at the neighborhood kids to stay out of her flowerbeds.  Oh, never mind – my retirement plans don’t include living within close proximity of people…

Probably my biggest peeve about getting older is menopause.  Yes, that’s right – the M word.  Thus far the hot flashes and night sweats have been relatively minor in comparison to what I’ve been told they should be.  I do find, however, that I continue to be blessed with the occasional hormone-related skin blemish.  According to the nice folks at Olay, my aging skin should be firm and creamy.  I suppose if you add enough Hollywood this theory may actually work.

In the interim, I have found that there is something inherently WRONG with having to put on bifocals to pick at a blackhead.