Getting Old is Hell, Obsessing About it is Even Worse

getting-old

I do not know how to accept getting older.

Almost constantly, my thoughts run in a loop. What if no one loves me when I’m old? What will I do when I can’t get around anymore? What if I run out of money? What if I have to go live someplace awful? What if I get cancer/heart disease/have a stroke? But most importantly, WHAT CAN I DO NOW TO ENSURE THOSE THINGS NEVER EVER HAPPEN?

At least that is way in the future. Short term, I focus on vanity. I spend lots of time pondering anti aging products, procedures and tricks. Examining my reflection, trying to determine my body’s next move and how I can head it off at the pass. Am I losing eyelashes? Are my pores bigger? Is my neck getting mushy? “Everyone gets old and gets wrinkles,” says my uncle. “Uh huh, everyone but me!” I think to myself.

I have control issues.

I asked my sister the other day, “Do you think when you’re old and wrinkled that you just become attracted to old and wrinkled men? Or do you just go along because you have to at that point?” She said, “I think your tastes change. Just like you’re not attracted to 18 years olds anymore.” I don’t know. I might have to poll some seniors.

I pin everything I can find about health and nutrition and all of those anti-aging superfoods. I listen as Dr. Oz (who is really all over the map with his advice, but ok) explains inflammation in the body and how to decrease it. I make it my life’s work to do so.

But still, I feel creaky. My back goes out. My forehead wrinkles. My hair turns gray. My neck starts to…I don’t know what my neck is doing. But I hate it.


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