| Aging is a Beast |
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 Youthfulness
is something we all take for granted, that is until the signs of aging start to
set in.
I can remember when I was a child being involved in all types of physical activities. Since I am my father's only child and he wanted a boy, he treated me like the son he never had. That meant I got to learn how to throw a football and play the game too, take a punch in the jaw and fight with the viciousness of a male, stand up to people who tried to take advantage of me and basically be a tomboy. When I was 5, I remember my father throwing me in 3ft of water as a way of teaching me to swim. I'm so grateful for that since I'm an avid swimmer and can proficiently do all the strokes, except the butterfly. I started gymnastics lessons when I was 9, which in later years branched into yoga that I continued until about a year ago. I started running track when I was twelve and even left a record at my high school in the 100m Low Hurdles for over 15 years. When I turned 18, I started lifting weights while in the delayed entry program for the military. By the time the three-month delay was over, I had muscles that some say made me look too hard. I didn't care though, I felt in shape, strong and ready to fight if I had to. If it weren't for my tremendous fear of audiences, I could have competed. I started going to the clubs when I turned 22 and found yet another way of staying in shape. See, when I dance, I don't play. It's a form of exercise to me and since I like being all over the place, I seldom dance with somebody because they're in my way. Ah, the years of being in shape and looking and feeling good. I promised myself when I was about 22 that I would never stop doing the things that kept me in shape. At 29, I lifted weights until I was five months into my pregnancy when my doctor persuaded me to pick another form of exercise. I let the weight lifting go and stuck to swimming, walking and riding my bike. Although I don't blame my daughter for why I'm out of shape, except for swimming and some forms of yoga, I'm not as active as I use to be. Last summer my daughter and I were at Myrtle Beach and when she put her bathing suit on I noticed how good she looked in it. It made me think back to the days when I used to rock a bathing suit too. Just the other day when I was washing my face, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed the signs of aging. It was scary. I saw wrinkles that I probably subconsciously overlook everyday; I observed the indentations under my eyes that looked like somebody punched me in them. I could tell that my teeth were not as white as they once were, and a few years ago I've tuned into how my hair is getting thinner. Until a year ago, I had 20/20 vision. I thought it was funny when I took an eye exam and they would ask to read the smallest line I could and I would read the fine print at the bottom. Now I complain that the chart is too far away. I've had a prescription for reading glasses now for a year but I refuse to wear them. My ego just can't take it so I walk around closing my left eye when I need to see something. Oh, leave me alone, I'll start wearing them in August when I turn 45; I'm not ready yet. But the biggest beast of all regarding aging to me has got to be the changes in my sensuality. I can remember a time when enough was never enough. I would wake up, go through my day, and fall asleep with lascivious thoughts constantly on my mind. Nowadays, I can barely think at all, much less entertain a thought about intimacy. I know that when most women enter their forties and start to feel they're losing their sex appeal, they tend to look for various ways of lifting themselves out of that state of mind. For instance, wearing make-up has never been as important to me as it is now. I have a hard time even going to the store without it. I see plastic surgery in my future and if it will be a confidence booster, why not, it's not hurting anybody, right? At least I can be grateful about a few things regarding aging. For instance, although I'm showing all the signs I stated of aging, I only have about 2 or 3 gray hairs. That's right, I count and keep track of them. I'm the same size I've been for most of my life and can still put my head on my knees from a standing position. Even though I would probably bust my ass if I tried to run a hurdle, I can still take the stairs two at a time. When I was younger I used to think about aging as no big deal and I had no problems with it at all. I used to say, "I don't mind aging as long as I do it gracefully". That was before the wrinkles, thinning hair and my sex drive committed suicide. Oh, well, it is what it is and ultimately I guess it's better than being dead. After all, I haven't gotten to the years of dentures, Depends, walkers or a hearing aide yet. If I play my cards right I should have at least 20 good years before those things. My advice to people in their twenties or younger is, if you want to age gracefully and want to continue to like what you see as you get older and look in the mirror, take care of yourself now. It's much harder to get in shape when you're older, especially if you've never had an active lifestyle. At the very least, take a brisk walk at least 3-4 times a week. It's easy on the joints, good for circulation and can stimulate everything that strenuous exercise can. If your knees can tolerate it, take the stairs instead of the elevator. Goodbye, all, and to the ladies my age and older, the next time a female in her twenties passes by you with her perky boobs and a sashaying of her hips, just think to yourself, ‘Enjoy it honey, it doesn't last forever', especially if you don't take care of it now.
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