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Meteoric Aging
After 40, everything bad that happens to you ages you. Fast.
I look in the mirror four months post car crash (car totaled, me
in it) and my jowls are drooping like a Bassett hound’s.
Ka-ching! This is worth at least five years of natural aging.
I’ve unwittingly lost 13 pounds and though I’m euphoric about
wearing size FOUR pants, my face looks like a deflated
map-of-the-world balloon. Ka-ching!
Near death experience, heart attack, stroke, cancer? Ka-ching,
Ka-ching!
Humiliation can do it too. I once crashed my bike directly in
front of a fire station and after a calendar boy fireman nursed
me, I aged another five years. Ka-ching!
Death of parents, spouse or loved ones? Jack Pot! Ka-ching!
Ka-ching! Ka-ching!
These tragedies are piling up so fast they remind me of playing
the slots at Coney Island. I keep cashing in years as the
bruises, indignities, losses and breaks pile up . . .
But they say life is nothing if not a gamble. So I’ve decided
after my recent NDE to go for broke! Spend all I have for
loveliness! (apologies to Sara Teasdale). Bend it like Beckham!
Go for the gold! Etcetera, etcetera . . . . |
