A Wild Week of Transitions
It's True: Old Age Ain't for Sissies
It was a wild, emotional week of transitions, one sentimental and two providing vivid proof that old age ain’t for sissies! Read more
Tag Archive for: aging
I Ain’t Old. Just Ask Methuselah
I'm Still Muddling through Middle Age
You’re as old as you feel. Well, today I feel as old as Methuselah. And “for the record,” Methuselah was 969.
Now, I mention “old” man Methuselah not to kvetch about my aching back, bones, and feet but to make a point about aging, more specifically, definitions of age. How old is “old?” And when does middle-age end? Read more
As We Age, Doctors Say the Darndest Things
Physician, Heal Thyself!
“As we age …”
“I assume you’re retired.”
“It’s just part of the aging process.”
These phrases are part of my new — and offensive — normal, as I make my unmerry round of first-time doctor appointments in our new hometown. Read more
Nail Ridges: The Latest Sign of Aging
Down in the Valley, the Valley So Low
Amid pressing national concerns, I’m dealing with yet another personal aging crisis — nail ridges. Happily, at least, I’ve found a song to accompany me in my misery.
The song? Read more
Social Security Madness
Into the Jaws of the Bureaucratic Beast!
Last week I wrote about turning 65 and signing up for Social Security. Now I was want to tell you what happened next. It isn’t pretty. I quickly descended from “social insecurity” into an advanced state of Social Security Madness.
When I signed up for Social Security benefits this Spring, I also selected Medicare Part B. I didn’t need health insurance; Handsome Hubby and I already have good, inexpensive lifetime coverage. But I thought Medicare is inexpensive and a little extra insurance couldn’t hurt. I was wrong. It’s hurting plenty. Read more
Social Insecurity
65-Years-Old. Say It Ain't So!
Three months past my 65th birthday and the start of Social Security, and I’m midriff-deep in social insecurity. It’s my own fault.
First, I planned the whole 65th birthday “celebration” all wrong. Instead of accepting Handsome Hubby’s offer of a birthday party, Read more
My Mission Impossible? Control
Don't Gen. Al Haig and I wish
Each morning I swear I won’t. Yet every morning, I begin a new round of my personal Mission Impossible. My impossible mission? Get control of my house AND my life.
Each morning I swear I won’t. Yet, first thing each day I make the bed and fluff up the “just for show” pillows. I maniacally wipe down the counters, speed-spritz the fridge to eliminate fingerprints and Windex with a fury the glass dining room table.
Each mid-morning, I swear Read more
A New Wrinkle in Time
Chest Wrinkles. Who Knew?
Sometimes I worry I will run out of things to write about. Then I discover articles like “Cleavage Reboot: How to Smooth Out Chest Wrinkles,” and I realize I will never run out of “dire” aging maladies to worry – and write – about!
Yes, chest wrinkles, a problem right up there with global warming, the plight of the homeless, and discrimination.
It only took God 99 words (at least in one version I looked at) to write The Ten Commandments, the foundation of faith and civility for millions around the world. But chest wrinkles? Read more
Nixon and Me: United in Jowls
There's a Surgery for That!
Richard Nixon and I sadly have something in common. Jowls. I’ve tried to ignore the problem, but jowls and jawlines are in the news. So, what can I do?
Yes, regrettably, I – the anti-plastic surgery woman – am once again day-dreaming about plastic surgery. Read more
Seasonal Vanity Disorder
A Sight for Sore Eyes, Lips, and ...
It’s that time of year when I’m forced to schedule my annual embarrassing doctor’s appointment. You’re thinking mammogram and pap smear. But no, I suffer from another repeating ordeal, SVD, Seasonal Vanity Disorder, a hush-hush, but common mid-life ailment.
Each June, I’m forced to hot foot it to the doctor to get a prescription for prescription-strength allergy-relief medication to soothe my itchy swollen eyelids, blotchy, splotchy derma, and yes, even my hot feet!
“Ah, seasonal allergies,” you surmise and sympathize.
Well, thank you for the sympathy, but you’re wrong about what ails me. Read more