The following is a guest post from Kate Crimmins, whose blog is Views and Mews by Coffee Kat. The subtitle of Kate’s blog is Kate’s Views on Life Edited by Four Opinionated Cats. Kate is lucky, indeed, that the cats have such strong editing skills.
“I don’t feel any different than I did when I was 20!”
How often do you hear that? How often have you said that?
I don’t think aging is a conscious feeling. The things that make me feel old on the inside are health issues, family conflict or big problems. They suck the life out of you and that’s what makes you feel old. It’s not chronological aging at all.
When I want to check on my aging, I check my medicine cabinet. Things have definitely changed there over the decades.
When I was young there was aspirin and maybe Midol. The rest of the space was taken up with eye shadow, blush, mascaras, lipstick (OMG! Why did I need so many different lipstick colors when I only wore two?). There may be some sunscreen (SPF 2) next to the baby oil with iodine in it to “enhance” the suntan color.
That was then. This is now.
My medicine chest is all about digestion and the colon these days. I don’t exactly know when it happened. The eye shadow is gone and so are most of the lipsticks to make way for poop pills. I barely remember why I used Midol (that is the good news).
There are a lot of “poop” medications. I have meds to make me poop and meds to stop me from over-pooping. There is even one to lessen the contractions. Is this micromanagement? Obviously I can’t rely on my digestive system to work without my intervention.
There is also the stomach soothing antacid stuff. I need that after pizza or anything Italian no matter how wonderful it is.
I can do a whole post on gas — the body kind not the car fuel. If only we could convert it, that would be awesome. I always have gas-stopping meds around so I don’t embarrass myself. It appears that a sign of aging is to putter as you walk.
Remember the aspirin? It’s still there but so is ibuprofen, acetaminophen, naproxen and probably the leftover painkiller from a recent surgery lurking in the back. One pill no longer takes care of everything. Painkillers start to specialize after age 50.
The doctor visits change too. It used to be a once a year visit to check out the “lady parts.” Now we need annual blood work, bone scans and other checks along with the lady part probing which now is more uncomfortable. Seriously, do they use bigger tools for older women? Or is it true that this is the only thing that gets smaller as you age?
There is also the “letting go” part of aging. When I was thirty, I wouldn’t think of going to the store without a complete hair refreshening and at least lipstick, mascara and maybe a shoe change. Now I don’t even consider combing my hair on the way out. My new mantra is “blame it on the wind.” Hair looks like Phyllis Diller? Must have been windy!
My shoes have gotten shorter too. It didn’t think that would ever happen but it did. That doesn’t mean I don’t dress stylishly! I wear skinny jeans with the best of them. I’m just not as neurotic about my looks.
Letting go means things don’t have to be perfect. What’s a little cat hair among friends? Throw a pillow over the wear marks on the sofa.
Best of all, I don’t expect people to be perfect either. I no longer need the last word in an argument. My loved ones are perfect as is and don’t need any tweaking.
Do I feel older on the inside? Not really! If it wasn’t for my medicine cabinet and my shoes, I’d be thirty, tops!