Coming of age…

Lately, when I venture over to Facebook, I see, more often  than not, the same “Suggested Post”.  Now, I am fully aware that these posts will show up based on things I’ve posted in my own feed or things I’ve perused on the wonderful world wide open-to-anyone-to-stalk-you web.  For example, I expect to see suggested posts about Universal Studios Hollywood given I just bought two annual passes and spent more hours and more money there than I care to admit just mere days ago.  Nor do I mind one bit the suggested posts related to my constant visits to Kayak to peruse the latest airfare to Thailand, or Paris, or Fresno (no, seriously, never Fresno).  But this particular suggested post has been haunting me for over a month, and I promise you, I have never posted or googled about this product or the issue it seeks to relieve (pun intended so stay with me here). I am mystified as to why Facebook’s algorithms have decided I am a perfect candidate for, are you ready?  Icon pee-proof underwear.

Ok, laugh all you want at my expense, but this got me thinking.  Well, to be honest, first it got me curious.  Off I went to to check it out.  The home page announces “No shame in our game.” and “We’re here to help you stay dry on the sly.”  Pretty dandy marketing if you ask me.  And, these precious little undies are made by women in Sri Lanka, providing much needed jobs and supporting the Fistula Foundation.  Well done! When I start leaking like the oil pan in my dad ’67 Chevy, I know where I’m going for help.  But here’s what I started musing over…  how am I doing with this whole aging process?  What other things ought I be thinking about and planning for along with my soon to be unreliable bladder?  Oh, the slippery slope!

Well, let’s see.  As a woman, the whole “color my hair or let it go grey” debate surely rages on.  I recently read an article about a trend where women are just going grey naturally, even if that happens when they’re in their 30’s.  Rock on!  But, if you didn’t do that, well, then you’re in a pickle, are you not!?!  I started getting grey hair in high school (genetic shout out to my mother – thanks, NOT), so I’ve been coloring my hair for a very, very long time.  After I retired I really wanted to stop  (why I thought people at work gave a hoot about the color of my hair perplexes me still), partly because it’s a pain in the ass but mostly because it’s a cost no retiree needs.  I’m on a budget people!  My brilliant plan was to bleach out all that over-died hair and magically become a white haired but edgy version of myself. After that, I’d just welcome those grey hairs to the world with a nice coming out party. Brilliant!!  That whole wait-for-it-to-grow-out plan was definitely not for me!  Six hours and $250 later (seriously, I thought it’d be a one time thing, don’t judge me), I was rockin’ some killer white hair.  And two weeks later, I must face the astounding fact that my hair roots are mostly black.  What?  How did that happen?  Does it start out dark and then change to grey somewhere around the half inch mark?  And the even bigger question, what now?  (Hold that thought, I gotta pee. I’ll be right back with you momentarily. And besides, I have no idea what now!)

And while we’re on the subject of hair, let’s tackle this one ladies – chin hair.  Really, what sort of follicle malfunction is this?  Let me share my story with you because, honestly, there’s nothing funnier than self deprecation.  I was, as I often am, driving my lovely daughter somewhere when I clearly should have been at home plucking hairs off my chin.  At some point during our outing, she turned to me to say something I can no longer remember (PTSD related memory issue, I’m certain of it) but stopped mid-sentence to peer at me with such intensity I thought perchance my face was melting.  She proceeded to whip out her smart phone, take a quick photo (trust me, it no longer exists!), and show me the two inch long hair growing under my chin.  With apologies for repeating myself, what?  How did that happen?   And yes, I made her pull it out immediately.  She is now tasked with checking for any and all facial hair run amok.  It’s the price she pays for getting rides to and fro.  Heaven help me when she gets her license and her own car.  I may have to go for the white haired- bearded lady look.

As if the bladder failure and Chewbacca look alike potential isn’t enough to deal with, that’s just the tip of the proverbial youth-sinking iceberg (see paragraph two regarding slippery slope).  I have arthritis in my hip.  I have to get up to pee at least twice a night.  I have to write everything down on my calendar or I won’t show up where I’m supposed to be.  I can personally relate to the expression “my ass is dragging”.  Gravity is a bitch ladies, am I right!?!  So what are my options?  Oh let’s see.  I could start small.  A little botox and filler to fix those wrinkles and frown lines.  Then, move up to the big leagues for a face lift or a brow lift or eyelid surgery!  Hell, I can get a whole body lift!  My insides might be as old as dirt but hey, I don’t have to look it on the outside!  But alas, I’ve neither the mindset nor the funds for that route.  No, I am definitively aging inside and out.  It may not be graceful, but it’s not without forethought and, as my father likes to remind me, it beats the alternative.  So here’s to coming of age.  May we all survive it with humor and the collective knowledge that we’re all in this rickety boat together.  And hey, if you need someone to check your chin for ya, I’m here.

Bearded Lady

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