|Aren't I lovely?|
This leaves me feeling old. And I don't like it.
Of course I feel old. Because I am old. My oldest friend is arriving in less than two weeks to celebrate her 60th birthday. I am crossing the Rubicon next year. According to the US Government, I am not middle aged, I am old.*
I'm going to catalog everything that's bedeviling me physically, and it all feels age related.
• My hair is thinner by the day.
• As is the skin on my eyelids.
• As are my eyebrows.
• Yet I am noticing more and more sturdy dark hairs on my chin.
• No matter how hard I try to combat it, the skin on my décolletage is wrinkling.
• I got depressed, thanks to the menopausal hormones coursing through my veins, and took Lexapro to keep from crying all the time. The Lexapro made me fat.
• I am unable to lose those pounds.
• I walk slower than ever.
• My eyes are worse (must remember to make an appointment with the optometrist).
• I think my hearing is weaker.
Oh, well. It's the price of still being here. I shall try to be grateful that I'm above ground and able to age.
*I am more than halfway -- 68%, to be exact -- to my final curtain.