Here are some tell tale signs that I have noticed about aging. They threaten even my determined state of denial:
What used to be fine lines are now crevices rivaling the San Andreas Fault.
Only very infrequently does anyone call me miss. On the rare occasion when someone does, I am tempted to bend down and kiss his feet. The problem with that is, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.
I only have to look at fattening foods, and I gain weight. Hence, I munch on a carrot stick while walking to the gym. I work out twice as hard as the youngsters do, only to lose half as much. How unfair is that? They have more energy than I do.
When I was young, I used Visine to get the red out of my eyes after a night on the town. Now my eyes are red from exhaustion, and Visine no longer works.
My sunglasses have been replaced by transitional bifocals, and my bikini by spandex shorts and a tank top. Sunbathing has been replaced by sitting under a beach umbrella, huddled in a towel because I’m cold.
The items in my medicine cabinet are also vastly different. I have Doan’s Pills for my aching back, Advil for leg cramps, and evening primrose oil for arthritis. Sun-in has been replaced by Miss Clairol, Clearasil by heavy duty moisturizer. I also have Prozac because I’m depressed. Who wouldn’t be?
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