Old Gray Mare

Well, what I’ve feared for so long is finally coming true. The thing I’ve dreaded since I was little, the thing I told my mother about so long ago, it’s finally here.

I’m old.

Know how I know? A few things.

First, I have just now recovered from my Sunday night escapade, its Thursday people. It took me four days to come down from a hangover. And I was even home by 11:30.

I have to wear flat shoes all of a sudden; I get these pains in my toes if I wear boots or anything with a heel. It’s pathetic; I’m literally going to have to wear nurse shoes soon.

My co-worker told me the other day that my hand lotion was so shiny on my hand because my skin is old. On young skin, it wouldn’t be so shiny.

I HAVE to color my hair, or else I would be salt and peppery, a little too much, even for 36.

I read mostly hardcover books.

I watch TV with a blanket, because I’m always cold.

I talk about my metabolism way more than I used to.

And finally, and I apologize in advance:

I cherish my menses instead of curse it.


My mother used to say that aging takes care of itself, you don't miss the things you used to do, because you don't want to do them anymore.

I've decided Great America is a great example. Up until even a few years ago I always wanted to go for my birthday. The last time I went, it was kind of nightmarish and I felt horrible and tired and could think of a million better ways to spend a summer day with my man.

So yeah, it does take care of itself, but every once in awhile you catch a glimpse of yourself, and it can be shocking.

That being said, I'm hoping I can go home and play Cribbage tonight with my man, how young and hip is that huh? Huh?