The Butt Race into Old Age: Fighting Gravity

I realized something this morning. A couple of weeks ago, my youngest daughter purchased a shirt for me. I thanked her, and I wore it without giving it much thought. At the end of the day I took it off.

And then (shudder) I noticed something unusual about the shirt. Without thinking (that was my first mistake), I realized that I had taken from her a shirt that practically SCREAMED, "Old Lady!"

Was it true? Had I suddenly become an old lady? Was the slip into old age so subtle that I automatically slipped on an "old lady" shirt without giving any consideration whatsoever to the way I looked in the old lady shirt?

But what's worse is that she thought it would look good on me. Well, yeah, because you're old, she practically taunted me (without saying a word, but she spoke volumes with that shirt). 

What has become of me? Next thing you know, I'll be putting on flower-printed muu-muus, dying my hair pitch black, putting dark black eyebrow pencil on my eyebrows, and encircling my cheeks with rouge. 

And the fact that I called it rouge instead of blush further indicates my slip into old age.

Yes, that's exactly how it happens. We SLIP into old age, our bodies sagging into the ground in an attempt to slide six feet under before we are ready, and we drag our butts back up and say, NOT YET, fighting gravity with all our mights just to keep our bodies above ground.

No, Dylan Thomas, I WILL NOT GO GENTLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT! 

And so, it is with dignity and grace that I pull my jowls back up into my face, the flab back into my stomach and butt, and exercise the muscles that are racing to the floor.

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