IT’S HARD TO SAY GOODBYE

As I face my upcoming significant birthday, I look back on the many things I have had to say goodbye to.  Here is a short list:

1.       Thick hair (on legs, arms, head, and well, you know where)

2.       My waist (we gave it a good run)

3.       High heels (I’m afraid of heights)

4.       Loud music and concerts (I can’t hear you now)

5.       Patience  (I’m sure I had some at one time)

6.       Bikinis (I’ve been asked not to show up wearing one…again)

7.       Toenails that don’t look like they belong to an elephant

8.       My arches (and we’re not talking about McDonalds)

9.       My desire to clean toilets or bathtubs (I can’t even get out of a bathtub, let alone clean one)

I have faced the facts of growing older and have coped well, I believe.  Things happen, things change, things drop, droop, slide, squish and plop.  But today I read an article on elder sexuality that shook me to my core (it’s somewhere where my waist used to be that is now missing).  The one thing that I thought would stay with me through thick glasses and thinning hair I am now told is dying.  I am bereft to learn that at my age, one’s vaginal nerve endings are dying.  I’m sure there is a special prayer for dying vaginal nerve endings, but I am too upset to find it.  Who knew that one’s VNE would one day turn on me like my lactose tolerance did.  Is Russia behind this?  If I knew my VNE were going to abandon me, I would have enjoyed them more when I was using them.  

But now I only have regret and a bald spot on the back of my head.  So here I sit, in my bikini, in my bathtub, with my arches (I’m eating a McDonald’s burger), playing loud music, observing my silky no-hair arms, legs and you know what, while I patiently attempt to bend over my gut to cut my elephant toenails that are peaking out of my never worn high heels.  Now can someone call 911 cause I can’t get up!

What is Your Identity Worth?

                                

I just read that you can insure your identity through your homeowner’s or renter’s policy for as little as $25.  So of course I signed up, because there shouldn’t be an insurance policy in existence that I don’t have! 

But the questions that arose after I aroused myself from my slumber, sleep walking, sleep peeing, snoring and thrashing were these.  What is my identity, i.e., WHO AM I?  WHY AM I HERE?  WHERE AM I? WHAT AM I? And most importantly, WHO CARES?  Well, obviously the insurance company cares because they want my $25.  But is my identity worth more than that?

A pickleball friend recently downgraded my nickname from MaxiMillion to MaxiDollar. Was this because he saw my stock market portfolio or was he acutely aware of the true value of my identity?  So I needed to investigate this further by answering the questions that I had to write down so I could remember them to answer them.

First identity question:  WHO AM I?  I look in the mirror, but all I see is my mother’s face looking back at me.  And she looks really, really old…grey hair (thinning), wrinkles (deepening), teeth (losing).  Is this me or a mere reflection of what is to come (or is already here)? 

Next identity question:  WHY AM I HERE?  Well, obviously if I am looking in the mirror, then I am in the bathroom and if I am in the bathroom, then I am here to pee.  And that has great value!

Question #3:  WHERE AM I?  This is a question that is asked every morning when I arouse myself.  And then asked again multiple times during the day.  The problem is I don’t have the correct answer as many times as I ask the questions.  I’m trying to use the Hansel and Gretel method of bread crumbs (or leftover matzo crumbs) but find that I eat more than I drop.

Question #4:  WHAT AM I?  Old lives matter.  That’s what I am and I value what it took to get me here (where am I?  No, problem, I have some bread crumbs leading me back to the bathroom).   I have value and as soon as the stock market rebounds, I will have more value.  Hopefully enough to pay for an Uber to get me home.

Last Question:  WHO CARES?  Answered already which is why my State Farm agent is now my bestie.