Five Signs That You’re Getting Old

I just hit a major milestone recently, turning 45 years old. To some of my friends, I’m still a “baby.” That’s fine, I accept the compliment with a chuckle and a smirk.

But to my daughter and her friends, I’m vintage. Like, I know all of the words to the television theme song “Flipper” and continue to retell the tale of the day when my mom shredded my cassette tape of “Girls, Girls, Girls” because she thought the lyrics were just absolutely filthy.

I find myself saying “back in my day” constantly and like clockwork, my 22 year old rolls her eyes.

“Back in my day…”

She’ll mimic me in a sad attempt to keep me from jumping into my time-machine, which happens to be a 1988 Dodge Omni.

It never works. You can’t stop the passage of time.


Here’s my list of the five signs that you’re getting old.

1. Excitement Over New Appliances

My boyfriend recently bought a new air fryer, so he gave me his old one. He could’ve easily sold it for at least $30, but he decided to change my life instead.

I love this thing. You can cook pretty much anything in this bad boy. Onion rings! Hot Dogs! French Fries! Even burgers!

They come out perfect, like a real fryer but without the oil and mess. Not to mention that it’s healthier because there’s absolutely no greasy residue! If you’re over 40, stop reading this and tell somebody about this modern day miracle.

I’ll wait right here, I need a moment to calm down anyway.

2. You Can Find Song Lyrics To Fit Any Situation

Daughter: Mom, I’m worried that I’ll never find a decent guy.

Me, in a sing-song voice:

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“Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be”

Daughter: Is that the new song by Rihanna?

3. You’re Confused At How Much Things Cost Now

My daughter is on the way to the store to grab some snacks and asks me if I want anything. I reach for my purse and hand her $2.

Me: I want a Kit-Kat, a Coke Zero and a bag of chips, surprise me.

Daughter, looking down at the crumpled dollar bills: Um, mom? This isn’t enough money to buy all of that.

Me: What do you mean? A candy bar costs like 40 cents! Make sure you give me my change back, every penny counts.

4. You Obsess About The Smell Of Your House

I have two dogs and a young adult living in my home.

This combination causes a grand stink to emanate from my condo. Parts of my home are what I declare “odor neutral” like my…well, never mind. There are no parts of my home that don’t smell like shit.

What can I do?

I buy candles when they go on sale. I stock up. As many different scents as possible and I light those bitches up to mask the smell of dog and the dishes that my daughter left in the sink (not rinsed off.)

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Scummy water, my favorite.

The sprays don’t last long enough in my opinion. On occasion, I’ll purchase some of those plug-in oils that cost a small fortune and stick them in my kitchen and bathroom outlets. Yet much to my annoyance I find that the oil has been working so hard to rid my home of funky smells that within days the glass container is almost bone dry and needs changed again.

It’s just this never-ending cycle of stench.

5. You Get Thrilled When You Find A Bargain

There’s a local craft store that is going out of business after many years of providing yarn and popsicle sticks to the masses. Since I now consider myself a jewelry designer, my boyfriend and I decided to stop in the other evening 45 minutes before closing time to see what remnants they had left.

The jewelry section had been clearly picked through, but there were still many cool things left. I saw this amazing sign in bold, black letters:

Buy 3, Get 18 for Free!

Holy fucking cow! I asked my boyfriend if my eyes were deceiving me. He assured me that I wasn’t seeing things, so then began my mad dash to find the best beads and shit in the fastest time possible.

My hands were soon overflowing and silly me, I didn’t grab a basket when we came in because how was I supposed to know that they’d actually have some really great stuff? My boyfriend quickly looked around and found a black hat, so I used it to carry my goodies in.

I was like a kid in a candy store!! I felt giddy and almost fainted with the sheer delight of it all.

I ended up buying around $60 dollars worth of jewelry supplies for $19.27. (After taxes.)

Even a couple of days later, I am still pinching myself. It’s the kind of thing that dreams are made of, you guys.

There ain’t nothing like getting shit for free!

Money does not grow on trees and chocolate milk doesn’t really come from brown cows.

But I think I’m going to just pretend that those things are true because it still makes me feel young at heart.

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The Chronically Hopeful Award

My good friend Kim (who guest posted here for a spell) nominated me for The Chronically Hopeful Award.

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Thank you, Kimmy.

The two of us share a disease. You may have read one of my MANY posts about it…yes, that’s right, fibromyalgia.

Since I really don’t do these award posts anymore, I’m only going to thank the person who nominated me (I did!) and then answer her questions.

Because I’m a lazy rebel with brain fog.

At what age were you diagnosed?

I was 24 years old when I was officially diagnosed with fibro, but looking back on my youth, there were mild symptoms as young as the age of 5. I believe that I was born with it (or maybe it’s Maybelline?)

It didn’t become blaringly obvious until after I gave birth to my daughter in 1997. She was five weeks early due to a condition called gestational hypertension. My labor was induced in order to save both of our lives.

It was a miracle that we both survived. The trauma my body endured triggered the fibromyalgia to really show its fangs. It took me two years to finally find a doctor who knew what in the hell was wrong with me. I cried tears of relief initially, because it meant that I wasn’t crazy, after all.

What were your first thoughts after you received this diagnosis?

Fuck.

Do you think chronically ill people are expected to behave a certain way when they are in public?

Yes, I do.

I look perfectly healthy, unless you’re really paying attention.

I limp. I have awful balance. I walk slowly. I wince in pain most days. I nod off constantly and forget to use my big girl words. My short term (and somewhat long term) memory is full of black holes.

I stare off into space often and I become extremely overwhelmed without much provocation. When that happens, I’ll freak the fuck out and have myself a lovely panic attack.

But most people don’t look that closely at me. They’ve often judged me when I use my handicap parking thingy or when I’m at Walmart on the zippy cart.

They can kiss my flat ass, though. I might have an invisible illness, but it’s as real as global warming.

What is the biggest misconception about your illness?

I know that it shouldn’t irk me, but when people tell me that they hope I feel better, I want to scream “it’s chronic, damn it!”

But I just say thank you, because I’m usually a polite human.

There’s no decent treatment or cure, so I am stuck in this never-ending cycle of good and bad days, just trying to walk the line.

Don’t do too much or don’t do anything at all.

Have you seen any significant strides in the treatment for your illness? 

Sadly, no.

I got tired of bee-bopping around to doctor after doctor. My current physician and I are on the same page with medications. I want two things to help me manage my fibro; pain medication (200 mg of Tramadol a day) and my muscle relaxer (20 mg of Flexeril a day.)

I take Magnesium and B-12 supplements. I’ll use CBD oil sometimes, but I really don’t see what the big fuss is all about.

I also smoke some marihuana now and then, when I can afford to purchase some. I do tend to take breaks from it for months at a time though, within the last decade that I’ve been a “pothead.”

marihuana

I found this gem at an antique mall that I went to with my boyfriend a few weeks ago. The place was huge, so he was kind enough to push me in my transport chair.

That pretty much sums up this post.

Again, thank you so much Kim, you’re a true chronic illness warrior and I’m honored to call you my friend.

Check Yourself

There is great power in deciding not to react.

To stay quiet instead of speaking.

To allow your silence to speak for you.

To turning your face into a blank canvas, keeping your gaze indifferent to the chaos surrounding you.

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I’ve seriously been working on trying to keep my emotions from taking over my life, because I’ve been allowing precisely that since I was a kid. It’s no easy task either, since I’m an empath and naturally fucking programmed to this specific behavior. It seems the more that I get worked up over something, the harder it is to stop myself from having a full-blown anxiety attack.

The goal is to not get to that point of no return.

Or more simply put, you gotta check yourself before you wreck yourself.

check

Thank you, pissed off Ice Cube.

Because too much emotion is bad for your health.