I look in the mirror at least twice a day: once to get presentable in the morning, and once to scrape it all off at night.
I’ll sneak a peek throughout the day, to check my hair, my lipstick and make sure my teeth don’t contain any remnants of my lunchtime salad. But overall, I’m not really vain when it comes to my appearance. Until I started noticing my eyes. Specifically, the area around my eyes. It’s looking a bit worse for the wear.
I’m in my fifties, a period of time I refer to as “Medium Age” rather than middle age, since all this talk started about sixty being the new forty, and lately, eighty becoming the new sixty. No one seems to agree on a standard point of reference, so why should I refer to myself as being in the middle of anything, let alone a lifetime? There are things you experience as you get into these years, and they’re nothing like those frolicky commercials featuring tanned seniors on cruise ships and slightly-gray-at-the-temples couples sitting in his-and-hers bathtubs following a (presumably) wild night of little blue pill-fueled hijinks.
You experience aches and pains in places that you can no longer reach. You can’t eat at the endless buffet anymore, without experiencing what feels like an endless stint on the porcelain throne the next day. You can’t pound down a six-pack of anything without your kidneys howling and your bladder leaking sufficiently to make you think adult diapers could be useful.
You experience sadness and loss, as your friends become less likely to go out for a night of fun, and more likely to stay home because they cannot drive at night anymore. Trips to the movies and the mall become fewer as retirement arrives and the budget shrinks. Phone calls announcing So-and-So is in the hospital no longer surprise you.
Change is the pavement on the road of our lives. Smooth, bumpy, potholed, straight, narrow or covered with fallen debris – it’s all there. My eyes are representative of those changes. I cannot reverse what is, but I can make repairs, go around what I cannot fix and do what I can and lessen the damage later on. The doctor said no eye surgery for now, so the eye cream coupons will come in handy. And speaking of hijinks, The Husband is eating a Whoopie Pie for breakfast…