I woke up this morning realizing that I am about to turn another year older and I am not happy about that at all. Mainly because the reminder came, not as a sweet thought of birthday cake and greetings from family and friends, but as I was getting out of bed this morning, my back hurt so bad that I couldn’t get up. As I tried to sit up, I then started to realize that my calves were also killing me from standing all day at work. Now, I’ve never thought of myself as a spring chicken but right now I feel more like an old mule that needs a kick in the butt every morning to get going. Is it okay to just skip the coffee and go straight for the Red Bull? I mean, I’m going to need the extra caffeine at some point in the day so why not drink it first thing in the morning? It’s not like crack addicts wait until the afternoon for their first hit. I’m at the point where good old coffee just doesn’t do it for me anymore.
I think that we should be allowed to have heavy doses of caffeine based on the number of children you have and the neediness of your husband. I’m not saying that my husband is needy or anything but if he asks anything of me in the day that he can do himself, then I should be “entitled” to his shot of caffeine. Doesn’t that sound fair? And where would the dogs fit into this equation? I mean, after all, someone has to feed them, walk them, and pick up their “unfriendly reminders of why we have a dog poopies.” They are suppose to bring me great joy and take years off my life but you haven’t met my dogs. They do the exact opposite. I have aged a good five years thanks to them. Now don’t get me wrong. I do love my dogs. But I just see them as another thing in the house I need to feed, walk, and, again, clean up poopie after. So basically, the kids and dogs fall into the exact same category as far as their needs go. That means I should be “entitled” to five shots of caffeine, still not counting the husband.
Now back to the aging thing. I am bitter that I have to grow another year older. Birthdays are no fun for anyone unless you are celebrating a year that is 30 and under. No one wants to be reminded that, not only are they another year older, but another year closer to using gas-ex regularly, no longer having control of their bowels, instead of buying condoms, buying depends diapers, and not being able to control their farts. It sucks!!!
Another bitter reminder of my age happened last weekend when my husband and I were out to dinner with some friends at a restaurant along the beach. Our friends had pulled into the wrong street, so his wife and I decided to get out and walk the half a block to the restaurant while our husbands parked the car. When my husband entered the restaurant, he complimented me on how nice my dress looked on me as we walked away from the car. Boy, did that comment put a big smile on my face. But then he immediately said the following statement, “You girls looked like cougars.” Uhm…cougars?…us?…me? That would imply that we look old. Great (sarcastically). So there goes that big smile. My husband thought he was giving me a compliment. Has he learned nothing from us women? After all, he has three sisters, three sister-in-laws, a daughter and an “aging” wife. Sigh. What can I do? He’s right. I am another year older. It’s completely against my will but there is nothing I can do about it. And with the way my body is no longer holding up, I can’t even say that I am growing old gracefully. I can say that I am happy about one thing, my husband will always be older than me. That makes me feel a little better.