Geezer

After a church meeting last night, I confessed to my friends Ginny and Jenn that I might be an ageist. I know it isn't politically correct, but I admit, I am just simply not a fan of old people. And I am guessing that this is coming back to haunt me, as my body has been rebelling lately, protesting the passage of time. I am not pleased. Now, I am not an old woman or anything, but I have noticed a few signs of aging. Laugh if you want, but believe me when I say to you that you cannot run from the clock. It is looming. I have complied for a you a partial list of my body mutinies. Be afraid.
-After a haircut, I look down at the fresh hair clippings and then up to the hairdresser and then to the mirror and then back to the clippings. Where in the hell did that much gray hair come from? What has this butcher done to me? Did he drug me, color my hair gray, cut it, recolor it, and revive me to see the aftermath? Yes, that must be it.
-When I hoist my wide behind to a sitting position at the edge of the bed every morning, I ready myself for the inevitable. As I push to stand up, I hear a fireworks display of cracking and popping that rivals the Fourth of July on the Mall in Washington DC. I picture it as the abrupt screaming of my joints and tendons, telling me to sit back down. When the show has ended, I always let out a little moan of satisfaction. I'm guessing that I will spend about 5 glorious hours a day with this ritual when I'm 65.
-There is no flowery way to say this: After the joint and tendon fireworks display, there is a few minutes of gas. Oh, I'm charming. Why is it that as the body gets older, it produces more gas? I have to stay overweight just to keep from floating away, for the love of Pete.
-Not only can you no longer bounce a quarter of my butt, but if you try, it'll swallow the quarter up and spit back a dime.
-Every now and then, I hold my hand out in front of me to see if I have the shakes. Sometimes, I do. I'm sure I don't need to see a doctor, though.
-My muscle spasms are no longer related to the twinge of a vigorous workout. No, now the spasms seem to be more of a last desperate surrender.
-In college, I used to get Party Scars. These were mysterious bumps and bruises that one would encounter after a particularly wild night. I get bumps and bruises that are unexplained now, too. But I get them while napping.
-I cup my hand around my ear to hear people at parties. Pretty soon, I'm gonna say screw it and get one of those big cornucopia looking thingies.
Of course, some of you old coots can barley remember having experience some of the items on my list. Your feeble little mind is nearly gone now, yes? That's just sad. Oop, you have a little spittle on your chin there. Aren't you just adorable? Is this is what I have to look forward to?