According to the latest statistics, the average American woman will live to the age of 88. That means I am now officially and exactly middle aged. And, as much as I pretend to be perfectly comfortable with getting older, there are certain parts of it that simply suck. Today, I will indulge in bitching about three aging dilemmas with no attempt at being enlightened, gracious, or optimistic.
1) Living Well -vs- Looking Good.
At this age, in order to have a rockin’ body, you have to be seriously committed to health and fitness. Gone are the days when I could eat a whole pizza with no repercussions. But, I still love pizza, and I’m not willing to give it up. I am also not willing to give up the beer I need to wash down said pizza. Or my daily bourbon…or five. I am also not willing to spend hours exercising each day to counteract all of the above.
If someone from the Dark Ages were to walk into a modern day gym, they would no doubt assume it was a medieval torture chamber. And that is basically the way I feel about them. I do not find anything appealing about traditional work-outs, and I need to stop even trying to convince myself that I ever will. However, I just cannot accept that I am never going to have the kind of body that begs for a bikini ever again. I cannot accept that when I look in the mirror, it will forever more be like looking at a painting by Rubens. So, you see my dilemma. I want to have my beefcake, eat it, and have it want to eat me, too.
2) Living Childless -vs- Dying Alone
The only reason I have ever regretted not having a child is so that I could name it Funfetti, which I do believe is a gender-neutral moniker...Funfetti Rose. Otherwise, I never saw the appeal. Even when I was a child, I didn’t particularly like other children. I've actually considered putting a wooden cut-out, like they have at amusement parks, that states, "You must be this tall to enter" on my front porch. But, now, with old age looming, I do sometimes panic and want to adopt a child from Somalia or someplace where the circumstances are so horrific that they will be forever grateful and take care of me when I am decrepit. Do I know how wrong this is? Absolutely. Do I know that even if I adopted enough kids to empty an orphanage there are no guarantees that any of them would feel inclined to nurse my ancient ass? Of course. My own mother would have better luck showing up on the doorstep of a Anthropophobic stranger’s than on mine. But, the thought of being enfeebled and alone is horrifying.
3) Determining Dharma –vs- Settling for Salary
I truly believe that each person has a purpose. And that if they find and fulfill that purpose they will be happy and successful and prosperous and basically shit roses and rainbows. I really believe this…except about the sweet-smelling striped excrement. They say the path to finding this purpose is through following your passion and setting your sights on service. They say that if you do what you love the money will follow. They say we each have a unique role to fill in the grand drama that is the universe. Okay, I got it! Now, will someone please tell me what the hell mine is. I don’t want to just settle for a salary and adhere to the adage that “work is called work for a reason.” But, I don’t have a lot of time left to chase dreams. I’ve got to start planning for retirement and a liver transplant. I am so tired of trying to figure out what my special gift is that I’m ready to just wrap up one of my spare cats in a box and tell the world that is all it is getting from me. Then, I will become one of those people who change your oil from the dungeon at Valvoline.
That feels better. And, with all the whining out of my system, I can now focus on achieving impenetrable peace and perpetual joy, and celebrate all of the amazingly awesome aspects of being a middle-aged Bourbonista in the Bluegrass State. I am going to use my Sundays at the Lake to do some soul searching and come up with creative solutions to these daunting dilemmas. Deep thoughts will be happening in three…two…one!
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.