Well here you have it. The first indication that I am but a hop, skip and a jump from the senior discount. Having received my invitation to join AARP on day one of the new forty I am a bit concerned – is this the sunset of my life? If so, shouldn’t I have been eased into it? Perhaps AARP could have started with some more subtle cues like fiber samples, free reading glasses, orthopedic shoes, wintering in Arizona…something that less clearly states, “Okay, you’ve arrived – you are officially old!”
Well, I am keeping the card just in case the young man selling the children’s books comes back, but I refuse to acknowledge this invitation with a response. Clearly the AARP was not informed that I am the new forty and the new forty does not have AARP cards. Seriously, don’t these folks watch Oprah? Ah, the indignity of it all…but onward and upward.
So, I was reading my Prevention magazine this morning and looking at the photos of all the nice folks who eat right and exercise. I am thinking I should be doing more of that in the new forty. Less sun, more leafy green vegetables, less deep-fried food, more sleep, less stress, more activity…oh yes, I know what needs to happen. I do try…really…but I admittedly have experienced some difficulties.
First of all, I only have a kitchen because it came with the house. Over time I have learned to co-exist with the kitchen, but it has been long in the coming and there were many casualties along the way. My two favorite items in the kitchen are the microwave and the coffee maker. Really, those are the only things I need to survive (coffee and microwavable food – it is a wonder that I have not been profiled in Prevention magazine).
Alas, my children have been a bit more demanding over the years. They are invested in this concept of “meals” - you know, those events that have multiple food items that complete a balanced diet. So, in my attempt to at least qualify for mommy of the year I have wandered into the abyss and have come back out battered, scarred and fattened up – but on most occasions with the balanced meals requested by the offspring. Now I don’t want to give you the wrong impression – that I have cooking prowess worth talking about. Oh no, my ingredient limit is five – any more ingredients and it is too complex for me. Forget about my degrees and accomplishments in the outside world, in the kitchen I am a “D” student at best and I have been at the same grade level for decades.
I must say though that even with my kitchen issues I have been trying for the past couple of years to eat healthier. I have incorporated many healthy eating habits and have no problem keeping my calories down. Unfortunately, in the old forties my metabolism shifted from “drive” to “neutral” leaving me with only one option if I wanted to lose weight – exercise. UGGGH – exercise – now there is a love/hate relationship. I love the idea of it, but I hate doing it.
Unfortunately, my thighs have become attached to some fat that they loathe to part with and they have encouraged other parts of my body to likewise embrace its developing relationship with fat. Damn those troublemaking thighs! Now I am forced with a grim reality – I must perform an intervention to address this whole ugly fat-loving mess my body has been indoctrinated into. Geez – as if I didn’t have enough to do in my new decade.
I may have jiggled my way into the new forty, but I simply cannot endure jiggling my way through it…there are some indignities that I cannot bear. It is sad to say, but even exercise is a lesser evil than the jiggle. So there is my second agenda item for the new forty – increasing my activity and exercise level. This is coming just in time as I saw a coupon for a fair concession the other day – deep-fried cheesecake – and I must confess I clipped it out. I am going to jog upstairs right now and throw it out (how’s that for multi-tasking?).
Yes, I will take better care of this body in the new forty- eat better, be more fit, get more sleep and avoid stress. I have known for some time that this day was coming anyway. You see I have been using this face lotion called “When Hope Is Not Enough” for awhile now. Oh yes, that is the real name of the product (bravo for truth-in-advertising, jeers for not shielding us a bit from the inconvenient truth). I sincerely hope I will remain in the “When Hope Is Not Enough” phase through the new forty. I can’t imagine what the next level of lotion will be called, “When Psychotherapy Is Not Enough”??
I surmise I could simply embrace all the lines on my face in the new forty and go au naturale. Okay, that was a bit drastic (and only offered for dramatic effect), I’ll just start by remembering that all the lines came from the experiences that have made me who I am…and then I’ll start looking for my next face cream and a good psychotherapist…and of course, I’ll jog right over.
Day three of the new forty – obla di obla da