Let's face it. This whole "getting older" shit -- nothing good can come of it. Getting older and falling apart simply doesn't pay.
Or ... does it?
Today can only be described as ungodly hot. The searing sun and the high humidity make it impossible to go out for anything longer than a quick jaunt to the mailbox, and even that can bring on heat exhaustion. I promise my daughter that I will take her and her young charge-for-the-day to the zoo, but my one codicil is that we go early before we sweat out asses and underarms off.
I cannot decide what to wear, mostly because I cannot squeeze my rotund midsection into my own clothes anymore. Truth is, thousands of sit-ups and planks and eating enough salad to become Mrs. Cottontail have zero affect on weight-loss or body mass toning. I start trying on shorts, but they're all too tight. I mean, I can force myself into them all right, but what happens when I try to move or sit?I am refolding one pair of shorts when I notice that the pocket feels stiffer than the other shorts. I assume it's the cheap-ass stitchery of clothing made in some third-world shit hole, so I move on to another pair, but something causes me to go back. I unbutton the back pocket of the shorts and find money.
MONEY! I find $20 folded inside the pocket, and ... no, wait ... I find $30 inside the ... no, wait. Hot damn, I find $35 inside those shorts. I haven't worn those shorts in maybe two years. Wow. Money. It's like the "You Can't Wear These Clothes Anymore Because You've Got a Fatter Butt" Fairy sprinkled me with mercy and presents.
I promptly spend the $35 buying lunch for me, for my daughter, and for her young pal-for-the-day. Easy come; easy go. If only disposing of the middle-aged round belly worked as quickly and easily.
