Monday, March 18, 2013

Still alive at 55

In honor of my 55th birthday, I am posting photos of myself as I actually appear today and not Photoshopped on some inanimate object, animal or food byproduct. Though I have to say I think I look better Photoshopped onto some inanimate object, animal or food byproduct. Although I am still startled every time I look into a mirror or look at a current photo of myself. This aged face is definitely not what my mind's eye thinks I should look like.

It is not that I mind being 55 so much. I just don't like looking 55 (or older). It shouldn't come as a surprise to me, though. My recently deceased 87-year old mother complained of the same thing. But getting old just isn't something you ever really believe will happen to you. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it is just the folly of youth to imagine that it lasts forever.

Not that I would have wanted to be a teenager forever. God knows that was a miserable time in my life. At least now I don't have to deal with pimples, puberty or the urge to write bad poetry. Unfortunately I do have to deal with random hairs growing in the oddest places, a nose and ears that seem to defy logic and continue to grow while the rest of me shrinks. I feel like I'm turning into a Hobbit.

Ironically, I'm probably in better shape physically than I was in my youth. The only way you could get me to run in my 20s was to chase me with a knife. Now I can run several miles on a tread mill without coughing up major organs (though I sweat an inordinate amount). I am, however, not as flexible nor nimble as I used to be. I used to be able to sit cross legged on the ground without wondering how I was going to stand up again.  And while I could once put a foot behind my neck while standing, now I struggle at times to bend over and tie my shoe.

I am imagine that this is all way too much information for most people. But there is any point in writing this blog for almost nine years, it is to leave a time capsule of sorts. If nothing else, my children  will one day be able to read all of my blog posts and confirm what they believed all along. Dad was a very odd person.


Helen Baggott said...

Those photos are some of the scariest you've posted...

Age is only a only need to worry when you stop counting.

Time said...

Et tu Baggy?

Age is only a number after you turn 40. Then you start rationalizing.