I have had it! After years of buying anti-wrinkle creams, wearing clothes designed to camouflage flabby upper arms and choosing makeup colors that make my skin dewy, lips plump and eyes wide and sparkly (i.e. that make me look "young"), I've decided to accept the fact that I'm not.
Young, that is.
I'm not technically old. . I am, however, hovering dangerously between the two. In fact, I've put together a compilation of facts that support my claim. I call them "Ten Irrefutable Signs I'm Getting Older."
1. Naps. When I was a baby they kept me from getting cranky. When I was in my 20s and 30s they provided a pick-me-up. Today, naps have taken on a whole new importance. I look forward to a few hours of shut-eye with the same enthusiasm I used to experience as a kid on Christmas Eve. Naps rule!
2. Memory. Ummm. what was the point of this column again? (Nuff said.)
3. Hearing. The auditory system tends to "fill in" the stuff we miss, sometimes quite creatively. The other day I couldn't understand why my daughter Val was going on about how nice the new pope smells. (We're not even Catholic.) After a few minutes, it occurred to me she was talking about the new "soap" I had brought home from the store.
4. Sight. Even with glasses, tiny writing on product packages is impossible to decipher.
I've taken to guessing directions, which explains why my last batch of extra-chewy brownies came out a little brittle. (There's a big difference between 30 minutes and three hours.)
5. Dress. When I was younger, I wore panty hose and makeup to the grocery store. Today I have three basic criteria before going anywhere: Are my clothes clean? Do I smell nice? And will my hairdo frighten small children or should I brush it?
6. Mail. Along with the rather insistent membership pleas from the AARP, I'm now getting life insurance information to help my loved ones with "final expenses."
To add insult to injury, I've recently started getting unsolicited missives about cemeteries and burial plots. (Whatever happened to the good old days of junk mail?)
7. Television characters. It's getting easier and easier to relate to Jessica Fletcher of "Murder, She Wrote" than to the bevy of Size 2 twenty-something actresses.
8. Honey. The endearment, not the food. Lately I have an uncontrollable urge to call everyone under 40 "honey,"even if I hardly know them.
9. Professionals. My dentist, physician, accountant and professors all look younger than I do. (Which explains why I called my doctor "honey" the other day.)
10. Eternity. It's starting to occur to me that life is a vapor. (No doubt thanks to all those cemetery ads.)
I decided years ago to make Jesus the Lord of my life, and know that I am assured of a home in heaven someday.
Death's prospect no longer frightens me. Can you say the same?