For a moment, I had a glimpse of the 38 year old I would like to be next birthday. Thank you.

At any rate, my first thoughts about old age was fear and horror. But after reading the other posts, I felt something abhorrant about too much time and emphasis on anti aging products and routines, as well. Sort of a sense of shame and silliness combined.

When I was young I was afraid of my grandparents and my older relatives. I always sensed fear and worry and emotional pain. Indeed, they complained a lot about everything. And they were scared… scared of crime living in a relatively crime free neighborhood, afraid of sickness, worried over money, terrified of change. God forbid they (whoever they are) invent something new and tomorrow might be different. They bickered with each other a lot. It seemed they were sad even in their reminescing. They would always make a few funnies for sis and me, then they would retire to a corner and talk about the obituary column. Someone was always dying.

And they were ugly and they smelled bad. And the weird part about that is that they were so vain, always fussing on their curls, turning away the camera till they could tidy up, and they still looked awful.

As long as I could remember, my mom’s family told me she was pretty, but I saw her as she aged as silly and flirtatous, desperate for attention. She stopped dressing well, her hair thinned and she left it too long and stringy. She constantly talked about looks, but she had lost hers ages ago, and she didn’t quite have the mind, or the grace to have any sort of pleasant presence at all. (Still doesn’t…just a silly old foof.) And yet it still seems she is trying, and failing to look her best every day….and worse, to justify her life.

I spend more time listening to both my parents say “I would have done such and such a thing, but your mom/dad wouldn’t let me.” So it seems they both wasted their lives, living as marginally and fearfully as my grandparents….and trying to hang on to the physical appearance of youth, which, if you haven’t lived, is a rather ridiculous priority. Who are you looking good for and why, if you aren’t out in the mix?

Old people sometimes get credit for being wise, or graceful, but I didn’t get to see that much growing up. I think our earlier impressions kinda stick with us, so even though I have tried to change my attitude toward old folks, I just haven’t managed to do so.

(And don’t forget those last few years in the nursing home….please let me die quickly and peacefully at home. I am not afraid of death. It is the time before death that seems a dreadful thing.)

I am dishthehappyfish because I live on a lake and I love to swim more than anything else. I have aged faster than my sister who has a more pampered life to be sure. She is seven years older, but I look older, having had the harder life emotionally, and physically….and taking almost all my pleasure out of doors, on the water. Not lying about catching rays, but moving. I love moevement. Movement through water, on the ice…oh but the wind and sun and water…and the four huge baby boys who stretched out my little size 4 belly to a size 6 with saggy skin…and now cause me endless worry and stress….how many pounds and dollars worth of anti aging treatment will it take to wipe my life off my face and body? How many hours of obsession with youth would it have taken me ten years ago or twenty years ago, to look five years younger now?

I feel embarassed for folks who try to hang on to youth and I feel sorry for those of us who cannot eek out a few more years and I abhor the very old.

But the nice thing about writing about what you don’t like, is that it is much easier to see what you do like. Not clear at the moment, but for a moment, I had a glimpse of the 47 year old I would like to be next birthday.

Weird part is, though my post sounds miserable, I don’t feel all that miserable here this morning. I just typed what came to mind.

Maybe we shouldn’t overthink old age too much.