What’s Hot To Trot About Aging–And What’s Not

Aging gets a shitty rap. Now that I am getting old enough to be weathering the storms of perimenopause and it’s absolute weirdness, I can understand why.  Actually I understood why it gets a shitty rap quite a long time ago when my grandparents and dad died. I am here to tell ya: aging ain’t all a turd fest. It truly has benefits, and in some cases, many of them! Come along with me while I tell you a tale of what I dig about no longer being a “spring chicken.”

HOT TO TROT

Dude, the wisdom you gain as you watch those birthdays tick by is astounding! (If you are doing it right. Otherwise, you can remain a jackass minus any common sense until you croak.) How to make this wisdom yours? Learn from your “mistakes”.  I screwed up plenty, plenty, PLENTY of times years ago. I still do! However, these snafus are nothing but an opportunity dressed in an ugly outfit from Walmart.  Being an avid reader has served me well. I love both chick lit (Jennifer Weiner, anyone??) and more thought provoking tomes from Daisaku Ikeda, Dalai Lama, Mary Anne Williamson, Wayne Dyer, and on and on. Observing the tomfoolery of others and not engaging in the mistakes (opportunities) they created has increased my knowledge.

Zero fucks to give. I swear, this is one of my fave benefits! Truly, you learn that only certain people, places, objects, etc. are the only worthy investment of your precious fucks. I actually shaved my head this spring. That took some major lady balls because being a dame with a shaven noggin really flies in the face of what is attractive and acceptable for a female (at least here in the middle finger of the Bible Belt). Damn, I looked ugly after the first 10 days, but oh well. My hubs and I were both good with it. There really isn’t much joyous about perimenopause. But the decline in estrogen tends to render us less “people pleasing” as we march closer to the era when we can toss our tampons away with gleeful abandon. ( I am throwing a party when that day finally arrives!) So I perpetually look on the bright side of my hormonal nonsense.

Living the “less is more” motto feels superb!! Acquiring more stuff lacks appeal now. Stuff has to be cleaned, stored, organized……the hell with all that. I would rather possess only apparel, knick knacks, and the like which really knock my socks off with squealing delight.  I am learning to adopt the same mindset with time and energy management. Even though I live in Indianapolis, IN, there are still a plethora of classes, concerts, engaging speakers, and spiritual experiences in which to revel. Learned the hard way over and over again that I possess only a finite amount of energy, and as I earn more wrinkles, I routinely assess all the available intellectual and entertaining yummies and decide what really matters.

I absolutely under no circumstances allow myself around people whose energy utterly sucks. My life is way, way too short to spend it with perpetually jacked up individuals.

Having wrinkles and sagging bags under my eyes seems to guarantee that I never get hit on these days. Thank ya, Buddha!!! Once I lost weight in my mid 20’s, I was often the subject of a ton of unwanted attention. It was obnoxious, and at times, frightening. Being stalked down the street by a menacing asshole, yelling “Bitch, pay attention to me. You fucking bitch….”Sorry to tell ya, Chump, this type of verbiage tends to send women scrambling the opposite direction rather than convincing them to engage in conversation. Do I miss the attention? About as much as I would miss slathering hemorrhoids with Preparation H.

NOT HOT TO TROT

The aforementioned perimenopause. I am actually having a much easier time than other chicks, but still…..*sigh* Every day, I ingest enough products designed to keep me functioning and sane  to choke a horse. The freaking enormous belly and hips that I have to fight like hell to keep at bay can kiss my petooty also.

One of the things I hate most is the physical death of my family members. OUCH!!!! That has been hell. Yes, I can still connect with them energetically and converse, but hugs, phone calls…that is all gone.

Bodies cease producing abundant collagen. This one royally pisses me off. I used to be so limber that I could wiggle into poses that looked like I learned them in a circus freak show. Now such poses strain my muscles. Grrrr……Intense stretching feels so mighty fine. I do ingest an expensive collagen from my chiropractor, and it helps, but geez. What a crock.

Adulting in general. Life insurance, disability insurance, IRAs, wills, investments……yawn. Boring, drop dead dull ways to spend money. Yet, we do it anyway.

However you slice it and dice it, aging is most doable when you can maintain a sense of humor, practice gratitude, release attachments, and stay positive. Kinda like everything else in life. The only alternative is to be 6 feet under (or in an urn). I tend to appreciate my 50 year old self and life even more when I remember how many of my high school classmates and younger friends are now out of the body. I am fortunate to still be here, so I will gladly take the hot to trot with the not so hot to trot.

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