Gosh darn it, right now I have so many big questions about what’s happening in the world, and there seem to be so few good answers that it makes me want to shut down and hide under the bed. Not to sound negative. But I think you’re right there with me, yes?
And so, I’d posit it can be useful on occasion to escape by turning inward, or at least to glance down at ourselves and notice what’s happening right here. The big world’s terrifying turns are practically invisible if you zoom in on what’s in your immediate space, kind of in the same the way that, when you drive, the mountains stay put while the roadside trees whip by. (I’m not sure that analogy works, but I’m going with it.)
Not that facing away from the big picture and zeroing in on yourself, in all your aging glory, means you won’t have questions. The issues may be different, but don’t worry–they, too, lack satisfactory answers.
Still. It’s best just to ask away, to get them off your chest.
I’ll start.
- At what point, exactly, did I stop looking cute upon waking up?
- Where did this other cowlick come from?
- Are my lips deflating?
- Is my nose expanding?
- Are the above two things related?
- What the hell are these little red bumps that keep appearing on my, well, all over the place? (No joke: WTF?)*
- Per the skin above my knees, am I turning into an alligator?
- Really, neck?
- Why this single stiff dark hair that I can only glimpse with head contortions in the mirror but that is fully visible to the cute UPS delivery guy?
- Speaking of which: Why can’t I see shit? I used to be able to see shit.
- When did my adorable freckles become so uneven and tragic?
- Gum recession, why are you a thing?
- Can anyone else see my (albeit faint) mustache? Or are you all just as blind as I suddenly am? (Here’s hoping!)
- Are my ear lobes sagging? Because my ear piercings seem to have stretched into slots big enough for a bus token. If they still had those.
- How does an hourglass become a pear in 5 years or less?
- Is the above why I can’t keep a hula hoop going anymore?
- What happens if you cut off a skin tab with cuticle scissors? Asking for a friend.
I have so many more, but I don’t want to overwhelm you, dear readers. Please, I encourage you to observe yourself (squint if you must!) and make your own lists. We can compare notes and even make up answers! It’s a nice distraction from the end of the world, which, clearly, is coming soon.
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*I looked this one up. They’re called cherry angiomas, isn’t that cute? (Also known as senile angiomas (perfect) or Campbell de Morgan** spots.) They occur due to “proliferating dilated capillaries and postcapillary venules.” So, little baskets of angel-hair-pasta veins just under the skin that gather there just because they can. Isn’t this fun?
**after Campbell Greig De Morgan, an 1800s British surgeon who speculated that cancers arose locally and then spread to lymph nodes and elsewhere. Though the cherry bits named for him are benign, thankfully. (Who would want a malignancy named after them? Nobody I know.)
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Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash
If you’ve ever had kids, then you’ve met that seminal work “What to Expect when you’re Expecting”. I *really* think it’s high time for some clever science writer(s) to pen “What to Expect when you’re Falling Apart from Age” because, damn, this is a harsh new reality. I wish someone would have warned me about all this crap.
Oh, the best way my wife & I have found to deal with those skin tabs is to pull a half-knot of thread tight at the base. It pinches a little, kind of like a flu shot. Then you can clip the top off with nail clippers. It’ll bleed like anything for about a minute but put pressure on it and when you’re all done shoutin, there won’t even be a mark left.
You left out folds. My body is folding, mostly but not exclusively around the middle. Handles, too, and parts that now move and call attention to themselves—neck, yes; under the arms; my chest. When I do exercises that involve bending, there are new parts of me folding around themselves. Body parts that have never met before suddenly make a new acquaintance.
Gravity, you suck.
Oh, there are folds. Lots and lots of folds.
Am now 89.166 years.
Discovered my senior senior status when I developed what I call “an old man’s stoop”, my sex urge dropped to near zero, people begin opening doors for me, my children became somewhat over concerned for my well being, and more.
Oh, there are even more indignities…the urge to pee, then managing 2 drops. The “bingo wings” that preclude sleeveless tops. (and I live in the tropics!) The freckles that are beginning form groups.I used to vault from the water to the poolside, where I’d left a towel.I can longer vault and have to swim to the ladder…then flollop to my towel.