They say 50 is the new 30. Really? Then tell that to my body! At 30, I didn’t have to wear a pair of “cheaters” to read the warnings on a medicine bottle or the menu at my favorite Mexican restaurant. This morning as I was putting on my make-up, it really ticked me off that I had to put on my glasses so I could read the labels. I couldn’t tell which eye shadow was Peach Puff or Vanilla Sugar. And if that wasn’t insult enough, I had to use the flip side of my mirror, the side that magnifies, to even put my eye shadow on.
When I was 30, I played soccer five days a week. After a tough game, I still had plenty of energy to go to dinner, and then do a little mattress dancing. Now after just doing a little yard work, the only thing I do on a mattress is snore! My knees have so much gravel in them my doctor calls me Mrs. Flintstone. I had a complete physical the other day. On the plus side, my cholesterol, blood sugar, and blood pressure were perfect. On the downside, he says I need to lose more weight. “More weight?” I asked. “But I’ve already lost 50 pounds. I’m still working on lose more. I walk two hours/day, stay below 1200 calories a day, but the weight just comes off so slow,” I whined.
And you know what he said?
“Getting old will do that. Once you hit menopause, you just don’t lose it as fast.”
Gee thanks, Doc.
There are some benefits to being 50. I’ve been around the block a few times since I turned 30. So now, I’m a fountain of wisdom. Seriously, just ask me anything and I’ll have an opinion about it. I figure at 50, I’ve earned the right to speak my mind. In addition, to being 50, I’ve also been married for 28 years. There’s a huge plus to that too. I don’t have to worry if my guy notices that my rear-end sags, because his does too.
Oh, yeah, for our anniversary, we bought each other matching rocking chairs, ‘cuz we’re grandparents now. And that’s another great thing about being my age. I can sit back and I watch my son chase his eleven month old, who has learned to walk and get into everything, and smile because I don’t have to change diapers anymore. I can spoil that boy rotten, then hand him off to his momma when he’s stinky.
So on the whole, 50 is not so bad. But it sure as heck isn’t 30!