Thursday, February 17, 2011


My senior citizenry is beginning just a little too early for my taste.  I documented my annoyance with my pubic hair back in October and I have discovered yet another age-related complaint.  For the record, I'm still not sporting a merkin. . .yet! 

I should probably stop claiming to be under-30 at this point, because I think I'm courting bifocals.  Bi-freaking-focals!  I wish I was just kidding, but I'm as serious as a heart attack.

It all started when I was pregnant at the end of last year.  My eyes were so impossibly dry that I couldn't tolerate wearing contacts so, for the first time in more years than I care to admit, I began regularly wearing eyeglasses.  It was fine at first, but I found myself slipping my specs down to the tip of my nose to see things clearly up close or to read fine print. 

I knew what this meant, I've seen my hubs push his glasses out of the way enough times when trying to read, but I told myself it's just because I don't see as clearly with my glasses.  And I really don't so that's not just my vanity talking.  A couple of weeks after my miscarriage was complete, I started wearing my contacts again and I assumed all would be fine with my vision. 

Guess what?  I can't see anything up close or tiny.  I can not see anywhere near as well as I used to.  Plucking eyebrows?  Impossible.  Clipping my son's nails?  Impossible.  Reading a menu with ridiculously small type?  Impossible.  All of these things are impossible unless I take out my contacts and get waaay up close so I can see.

I've been nearsighted since I was twelve so I'm used to being blind, but this is just lame.  Someone suggested that I buy a pair of readers to keep for when I'm trying to do things like read menus. . .friggin' reading glasses!  The point of wearing contact lenses is that you don't have to wear freaking eyeglasses! 

My blindness was apparent the other night, Valentine's, when I could not read the menu at dinner.  I actually found myself gripping about the dimly lit restaurant and the minuscule font size on the menu.  Aw, nuts!  I'm not only blind and have greying pubic hair, but now I even sound old!  Dammit!

I'm almost afraid to ask what's next.  An ear horn?  A walker?  Predicting weather based on how my shoulder/knee/hip feels?  Yelling at neighborhood kids to get off my lawn?!  Talking incessantly about the good ol' days?!

Uh-oh, looks like I'm older than I thought!

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