Time. Age. The Drippy Faucet

Time. Age. The drippy faucet. Things we can't stop. My philosophy is, embrace them.

I am trying to have a positive outlook about growing older. They say age brings wisdom. I am looking forward to that, but in the meantime, my body is just mocking me. I'm not talking about the new, little aches and pains that surprise me every morning. I'm talking about my body deliberately mocking me.

Age and heredity dealt me the slowly-going-bald gene. I can accept that. I told the stylist to put down the hand mirror at the end of my last haircut. I don't need to see the back, thank you. Nothing she could have done back there was going to detract from my growing bald spot, but I can accept that. I have a bald spot. No big deal, until my hair reminds me of it every morning.

You would think my hair would have the decency to slip quietly down the drain and not bother to announce itself, but that would mean my body loved me. No; after every shower I have one, single, solitary hair clinging to my face.

It's either across the bridge of my nose or caught in my eye brow. That hair is the daily spokesman for the other thirty that got away. He is my morning newscaster. "Thirty hairs escaped today. Please phone your family, friends and work mates. They should be warned to wear sunglasses due to the extreme glare that you head is producing." Fine; thank you. Can I shave now?

You know you are growing old when you can hurt yourself sleeping. When you're twenty, you can sleep on your arm, wake up to a tingle, and shake it off. At forty, your first, waking thoughts are, "I should call my cardiologist." The fact that you have a cardiologist should be a clue to your age. The fact that your cardiologist is on speed-dial is just depressing.

At forty, "I slept in a funny position last night," is a valid excuse for getting out of work. Your neck, your arm, your leg, your back, can suffer insufferable consequences, simply by lying in an inappropriate position. I guess there's something to be said for muscle tone and circulation. Exercise and a healthy diet might alleviate some of my afflictions.

Can someone please put exercise and a healthy diet in a convenient pill-shaped form? I just want something I can take with my morning coffee that will cure all my ills. I guess technology isn't there yet, so I've resigned myself to salads and walking. It's a slow start, but then so am I. One day I'll get to that faucet, too.