Tag Archives: forgetfulness

Aging Gracefully? Who Made Up That Contradiction?

When I realize I’m “old,” it’s when I’m in the act of saying or thinking or doing something I never usually do. I am 47. Examples below:

1) I am looking at shirts (which I now call blouses) in colors of fuschia, lime green, and bright red with the hemline decorated in embroidered leaves. What happened to my usual earthtones, basic black, and soft beige?

2) I now choose, sandals which exactly match my tops or scarf (another example, I’m wearing sheer scarves).

3) I call women in their early 20s “lovely young ladies” or “beautiful girls.”

4) I catch myself telling my boyfriend how to drive – “Here’s our turn” (when he’s turned there a hundred times before) or “Watch your speed.” The worst is that I turn down or off the radio ANY time someone else is in the vehicle.

5) I often think I’m cool

6) I shop at thrift stores for shoes. Never done that before. I say, “But these were only $4, and the scuff marks can be fixed with a little magic marker!”

7) Instead of reading Glamour or Cosmo, I picked up a copy of AARP Magazine in the doc’s office recently to read an article about melanoma.

8) I sometimes just don’t give a shit what other people think. NOT like my past behavior at all.

9) When I speak, I literally hear my  mom’s voice coming from my mouth. Where does that come from?

10) I have said, “When I was in high school, computer printers were the size of 2 stacked pick-up truck beds.” I’ve also said, “When I was growing up, there were no microwaves in homes.”

11) Sometimes, I pass Taco Bell and remember the original Encherito. It had three black olive slices on top. Taco Bell was a true treat “back then.” Ugh!

12) My iPhone pics don’t look like everyone else’s. Some old, tired face stares back at me. Listless eyes and thinner hair. WTF?!

13) To make a Baker’s Dozen (See? That’s an old phrase), I looked at ugly, fake silk moomoos at Dollar General and thought aloud, “This would be comfy to wear around the house.” It was leopard print on gold, for god’s sake!

So, I’m resigning to the fact that I’m aging and it’s showing. I try to catch myself when I say or do something out of the ordinary, but I’m not always successful. It depresses me. I’m not ready to look like a grandma (which I’ll be any day now). I’m not ready to admit that most of the actors on primetime TV are freaking infants! Who am I the target audience for now? Pharmaceutical advertisements, that’s who!

Life marches on whether we are ready or not. Time takes over our faces, our hands, and our minds.

And it SUCKS!

(Oh, and I forget stuff. I wanted to include that above, but I forgot)

Forgetfulness, Hormones, and Pinball

I exist in this body as a game of pinball. Pull back the spring and let the hammer go. The heavy, silvery ball flies into banded, stationary targets. Back and forth between them – fueled by rubbery bands, the ball bounces and rolls. Ding, ding, ding . . . the sounds, blinking lights, and music try to distract me from my goal of guarding “the scoring hole” with not-long-enough paddles.

This is how my brain works at present (perimenopause). Hormones fuel my emotions and cause a mixture of lights and noises which distract my brain from its basic purposes. Examples follow: sense of balance, memory, up and down emotions, and learning new things. Last night, I took a tumble onto the pavement because I absent-mindedly fell off of a seven inch step (which has always been there and which I had been aware of for two years). My hip is bruised, as well as the back of one arm. Go figure. I feel like a toddler again.

I forget facts, appointments, and my Walmart list. I went to the store to pick up a prescription. While I was there, I needed shampoo and conditioner and Drano. I left the list of these four items in my vehicle, so I had to remember four things. Well, I recalled three. I completely forgot my prescription, the reason I was there in the first place!

There goes the wild pinball. It is diverted and sent hurling into yet another diversion. Ding, ding! I change my mind more often than  Tyra Banks changes outfits.

Before I forget, I need to get my Jeep brake pads and roters replaced. I also need to purchase a college history book. It is likely that I’ll buy the brake pads and forget the roters. It’s also likely that I’ll make three trips for these three items. Ugh . . .