Steven Tyler said it best.
“Every time I look in the mirror. All those lines in my face getting clearer.”
And grey hairs.
And the fact that I can’t even see those lines very well.
They’re all blurry.
Blurred lines?
I think that’s a song. A controversial one.
But I digress.
It’s a combination of all of those things, and more, that sends it home that I am getting older.
The blurry vision that makes it appear everything worth reading is in soft focus. That makes it difficult to put on my makeup without a magnifying mirror. That makes it hard to even see what I am eating on a plate right in front of me. The ever present magnifying lens glasses that are never far from my reach. In fact, if they are not on my nose I often sport them on top of my head for hours on end in the event I may have to actually see something.
It’s the spry grey hairs that just spring up unruly-like out of nowhere thwarting what would otherwise be a lovely head of still strawberry blonde hair.
The feeling that joints are getting stiffer.
The fact I had a new hip put in last year.
I feel I am becoming invisible to more and more people.
I know more people can relate than not.
Getting older is the new thing. It’s “hip” to be older.
There are more people in this new era of “older” than any other age group.
But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
I look at people who are in their 80’s and 90’s and I think I have it good.
Gosh, I’m only 54!
Jane Fonda is in her 70’s, and she is looking great.
Florence Henderson is also in her 70’s, and she was on Dancing With The Stars.
So for at least the next couple of decades, I have those greats to aspire to.
Beyond that, I am at the mercy of the Universe.
It’s a hard thing to accept.
I believe it’s easier for a man to come to terms with the wrinkles and less pliable skin and such, than it is for a woman.
And I understand why women fight so much against the ravages of age by having skin plumping treatments, to try to stave off the sands of time.
But it is what we are meant to do.
Every creature on this Earth succumbs to getting older. To aging.
Dogs. Cats. Birds. Horses. All animals.
We are put here to breed, to procreate, to perpetuate the race.
And so that, it seems, is it.
We can only enjoy what we have left beyond that to appreciate everything that surrounds us. Nature. Beauty. Enjoyment.
And so, while I will still stall against going gently into that good night, I will try to do my best to be my best, and to others around me.
And so goes the old grey hare.