Getting Older
Every once in a while, a post comes along where you open yourself up to ridicule. This is one of those times. The information I divulge herein could be used for blackmail or extortion or just plain embarrassment, and yet I keep writing. TMI? You betcha. Don't say I didn't warn you to turn back and find another blog to read. Because I did.
Onward and upward. (Maybe I should say downward.)
There are so many things that I knew would happen as I got older. I knew my hair would thin, and eventually go gray. I knew that I would get wrinkles and that my skin would get drier. I knew my boobs would sag, although I really had no idea that they would vanish into nonexistence after nursing four kids. I knew I'd be more tired, and have less arm strength. I knew I'd be more nostalgic and more emotional. I knew the older me would be the same me, but at the same time, a different me.
Onward and upward. (Maybe I should say downward.)
There are so many things that I knew would happen as I got older. I knew my hair would thin, and eventually go gray. I knew that I would get wrinkles and that my skin would get drier. I knew my boobs would sag, although I really had no idea that they would vanish into nonexistence after nursing four kids. I knew I'd be more tired, and have less arm strength. I knew I'd be more nostalgic and more emotional. I knew the older me would be the same me, but at the same time, a different me.
However, there are also the things I had no idea would happen. I probably should have had an inkling that these things would occur, but I did not. (If I had paid closer attention to the aging people around me, I would have known these things; this speaks volumes as to my ability to observe.) Like the forgetfulness. In my opinion, I am too young to be hauling my calendar around with me. But if I don't write my appointments down, they won't happen. Well, they will happen, but without me. I've had to learn the hard way. Also, I did not realize that the need for bifocals might come along so soon. Both Tim and I sometimes take off our glasses to look at something up close; we see better that way. I remember my dad doing that! He's old. I'm not. (Sorry, Dad!)
And then you have the things I just hoped would never happen. I probably realized they might, but I hoped and prayed that maybe I'd be lucky and they would skip me over. For example, incontinence. Thankfully, I don't have that, yet. Two of my brood were pushed out of a very small hole, and things just haven't felt the same since. (The same can be said for my abdominal muscles, which the girls shredded by just being, and then being extracted.) I'm betting I just jixed myself on the incontinence issue. Let's hope not.
Another example is the hair that gathers on women's faces as they age. I posted back in November about the length of a mustache hair I found. On my own face. I've found several more since then. I can't complain too much...the hairs are still quite light in color. But I do keep the tweezers at the ready in the downstairs bathroom. Again, perhaps I jinxed myself.
Sometimes, though, you just aren't prepared for what life throws at you. I have had to deal with what I lovingly refer to as the pillow. That is what my belly feels like when I am bloated, and something that I have, for the first time in my life, had to deal with. I was somewhat prepared for this. My grandma complained about being bloated, but she was much older, and I am pretty certain she'd already been diagnosed with diverticulosis.
Since I am not that old (under 40 still means young, right?), and not experiencing any other symptoms, I thought logically and tried to find a reason for the pillow. Sure, my monthly cycle has been a bit different (again, something I knew would happen), but bloating did not correlate with PMS. And no, I am not pregnant. I wasn't eating a bunch of fruit or cabbage or sunchokes, either. It took me a bit of food logging, but I eventually found the reason for the bloating and gas.
The culprit? Peanut butter. Yes, you heard me right. Peanut butter. You don't believe it? I didn't at first, either, but it is true. If I have a PB sandwich, I am somewhat poofy in the abdomen by nightfall. If I have a PB sandwich and then some peanuts as an afternoon snack, well, you just better not come over and visit.
It all makes good sense to me. Peanuts are a part of the legume family, and legumes are known for causing gas. What I find interesting is that I have been eating PB for more than 35 years, and I am just now having a problem with it.
Another example is the hair that gathers on women's faces as they age. I posted back in November about the length of a mustache hair I found. On my own face. I've found several more since then. I can't complain too much...the hairs are still quite light in color. But I do keep the tweezers at the ready in the downstairs bathroom. Again, perhaps I jinxed myself.
Sometimes, though, you just aren't prepared for what life throws at you. I have had to deal with what I lovingly refer to as the pillow. That is what my belly feels like when I am bloated, and something that I have, for the first time in my life, had to deal with. I was somewhat prepared for this. My grandma complained about being bloated, but she was much older, and I am pretty certain she'd already been diagnosed with diverticulosis.
Since I am not that old (under 40 still means young, right?), and not experiencing any other symptoms, I thought logically and tried to find a reason for the pillow. Sure, my monthly cycle has been a bit different (again, something I knew would happen), but bloating did not correlate with PMS. And no, I am not pregnant. I wasn't eating a bunch of fruit or cabbage or sunchokes, either. It took me a bit of food logging, but I eventually found the reason for the bloating and gas.
The culprit? Peanut butter. Yes, you heard me right. Peanut butter. You don't believe it? I didn't at first, either, but it is true. If I have a PB sandwich, I am somewhat poofy in the abdomen by nightfall. If I have a PB sandwich and then some peanuts as an afternoon snack, well, you just better not come over and visit.
It all makes good sense to me. Peanuts are a part of the legume family, and legumes are known for causing gas. What I find interesting is that I have been eating PB for more than 35 years, and I am just now having a problem with it.
Couldn't my surprise that comes with age have been an uncommon amount of extraordinary wisdom instead? I fear for what lies up ahead.
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