When I was in my 20s, I made the mistake of saying a lot of "I'd never"s.
"I'd never get plastic surgery. Why alter your face or body?"
"I'd never retire. I love what I do and I want to work until I die."
"I'd never hesitate before stating my age. Age is just a number."
"I'd never skip the opportunity to go to a fun event or party."
Oh, the sea of "I'd never"s coming from the mouth of the 20-something. Age has a funny way of catching up to you, and lately it has not only caught up to me, it has snared me in a net, and hung me 40 feet in the air before getting ready to drop me down a dark hatch.
The once vibrant girl who couldn't wait to dive into a crowd now does research on events of interest to find out how many people are going to be there. If there might be huge crowds, and difficulty parking, then, screw it, I'll watch it on tv. It's the Chinese New Year this weekend, and for about 30 seconds, I thought it might be fun to venture to Los Angeles and head to Chinatown to celebrate the incoming Year of the Rooster. Then I did my research.
A usual crowd is 110,000.
Tomorrow's temperature in Los Angeles is supposed to be 65 degrees (which is fantastic for everyone from anywhere else in the U.S. except Southern California).
Parking. Parking in Los Angeles. Parking in Los Angeles with at least 30,000-40,000 other cars.
Screw it! I'll watch it on tv and get Chinese takeout tomorrow night for dinner.
When did I become such an old fogey?!? I'm still an active person, and barring the average cold, usually given to me by one of my kids, I try to work out three to four days per week. I like to take walks, go out with friends and family, and head to concerts when someone rolls into town that I want to see. I guess I've just become more selective about where I go, when I go, and what I'm expecting when I get there. If I'm going to have to deal with a huge amount of crap and aggravation, then it becomes a waste of my time. Old fogey thinking.
Activities aren't the only kick in the ass that aging has been giving me lately. I'm now far more obsessed with my appearance. I've never been a vain person, but I've had the good fortune of decent looks no matter my age or weight at any given time. I'm no incredible gorgeous beauty, but I'm good with that. Incredible beauty comes with its own set of challenges. I would say I'm decent in the looks department and have been very content with my face. However, lately, I can't stop noticing that my face appears to be moving South at more of a rapid rate than ever before. Next month I'm going to be 44, which means I am officially in my mid-40s, and I'm 6 years away from 50.
I've always had this crazy belief that I'll live to 92. I have no idea why, but 92 has always stuck out in my mind, which means I'm 2 years away from the halfway mark. The physical manifestation of coming close to the halfway mark is my Southern-moving face, and for those who have not experienced it, let me tell you, it fucks with your head. Suddenly, you understand why people spend tens of thousands of dollars on plastic surgery. Every wrinkle, every sag, the bags under your eyes all remind you that the inevitable will come, and because G-d has a sick sense of humor, this usually coincides with the dying off of your older generation of relatives.
All of the sudden, life just punches you in the face and everything gets more real. You are not a kid anymore. The world is still full of opportunity, but not all opportunities, because you are middle aged now. You can alter your appearance, buy overpriced skin cream sold to you by 20-somethings with lab coats and empty promises, try to pretend to be into your teenager's music (much to their horror), but you're still middle aged. Watching the texture of your skin change is extremely humbling.
And don't get me started on the drooping energy level. In my 20s, I could party until 3:00 am, be back up at 8:00 am, and in the office at 9:00 am-ish, work a full day, grab a 30-minute nap after dinner then go out again. Now, if I have to stay up past 9:00 pm to go to an event or a show, I'm going to need a 45-minute nap at around 3:00 pm, and a Venti dark roast just to make sure I'm most conscious.
Two years ago, I took a job at a nonprofit that was under consideration for a temp to permanent position. It didn't work out, but while on that job I met a woman who was in her mid-50s. She was looking to change departments, and when I asked her why, she told me that she had maybe about two more years of doing events before she just didn't have the energy anymore. This was the first time in my life that it really hit me that there would come a time in my life where I just wouldn't have the energy to do events anymore. My recuperation time post-event has been getting longer and longer as the years have passed. This year, during my biggest event of the year, after a full day of doing much of the work solo, I was in a tremendous amount of pain for a couple of days, and ended up in the doctor's office, because I had pulled several muscles in my back. Again, aging punches you in the face when you least expect it.
As a backup plan, I have registered for a grant writing certification class. Thanks to modern technology all research and grant applications can be done online from anywhere in the world where a good Wifi exists. I now see a day when I retire from events, travel the world, and spend morning hours composing grants while wearing breezy kaftans.
I guess the good part about aging is that you do become wiser, get more choosy about how you spend your time and who you spend it with. You have zero fucks left to give when it comes to drama or dealing with people. Sure, the older you get the worse your sight and hearing becomes, but at least you don't have to worry about forgetting your earplugs when you go to concerts.
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