It's Friday, and today is the day that I am reminded how old I truly am. Not once. Twice. Twice today I will be reminded that I am well over that hump the represents the "middle" in "middle age."
My first reminder will happen in the mid-afternoon when I go to the doctor for my physical. I'll be asked all of the ritual questions:
* What vitamins do I take? (the usual plus calcium)
* What medications am I on? (none)
* What hurts? (one elbow, both calves, occasional knees -- I'm no spring chicken)
* What exercise do I get? (walk, jog a bit, sometimes I even stretch - doesn't that count as exercise?)
* Am I stressed? (not anymore - thanks for almost nothing, Salem State)
* How many drinks a week do I have? (after my tequila debacle, um ... none)
Not one of these questions is the kind that we would be asked in our 20's or even our 30's. There are more personal and embarrassing questions that will be asked, like questions about my weight. I've put on close to 25 pounds since high school, and thank goodness for that because I wasn't healthy during my high school years. Frankly, I'm surprised I survived high school at all, subsisting on Yodels and milk for every single lunch that I can remember from freshman year on. Also, I've had three kids. Between my time at judo and various gyms, I've packed on muscle enough to still be able to kick some ass. Would I like to lose 10 pounds? Sure, who wouldn't. Do I really care? Nope, I don't.
After I survive the "you're in decent shape for an older woman" speech from the doctor, I get to go to the hairdresser. I don't really need a haircut because I cut a lot off last time, and now I'm trying to gain it back. The last few years have been a ritual of my hair growing then being cut, growing then being cut. I'm back in the growing mode. I suppose I could use some color touch-ups. Okay, I could really use some color touch-ups because I'm going gray fast. I let my hair go naturally grayish a few years ago, and I guess I truly wasn't ready to accept it because I didn't know who that old lady was on the other side of my mirror, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be me.
So today I will be picked on and picked at and picked over and picked around, all in an effort to convince my outward persona that it should feel as young as its inside persona. Okay, maybe not THAT young. Lord knows I don't need "immature" hair.
