Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Ageing sucks.

Not that any of you reading this hadn't come to this conclusion already, but I reiterate: ageing sucks. I've been particularly lucky, in that a combination of good genes and a credit line at Neiman Marcus has allowed me to maintain the visage of, well, less than middle age. But the signs are there- if I tried to pluck out all of the white hairs, I'd have bald spots. The knee that I dislocated in dance class in college (and if there's anything gayer than a dance-related injury, I can't think what it is at the moment) audibly clicks when I climb the stairs. It takes a lot more exercise and a lot more diet than it used to to maintain what I like to think of as a trim figure (shut up, you!). The looks from other guys are fewer and far between, and worst of all, the people at the grocery store now are firmly in the "sir" zone. Since I am not in the habit of going to Gelson's in chaps and a harness, a plain "thank you" will do, in case any checkers are reading.

I know that this is an inevitable thing: "Death Becomes Her" aside, there's no magic potion that reverses ageing (but if there is......). I also know that it's completely possible to remain engaged, happy, vivacious and active into years twice mine; as a matter of fact I will be seeing a friend of mine this weekend who is literally more than twice my age and embodies all of the above traits: a woman who met the love of her life in her 50's and at 92 is still full of vinegar and life and wonder.

On the other end of the scale, I met a couple of young boys who are staying with friends of mine. Barely 20, and really sweet: running around the country on their endless summer (really, isn't school in session now?) working where they can and generally bumming around. I spent some time with them the other day, they're lovely in that not-quite-fully-baked way that children on the edge of adulthood who are from certain families are. Nothing in life has conspired to whack them across the chops with a rolled up newspaper yet, so they look at every new thing and new person with the wide-eyed wonderment of a puppy.

I guess I am just noting that the part of me that was the puppy has been officially over. I'm not ready yet for Canine Senior, but I'm way past Puppy Chow.


Lily said...

Aw, you sweet cute thing. Your mistake is that you need to stop Neiman Marcus and hit Elizabeth Arden because the men at the high-maintenance chick salons know how to pamper. Neiman Marcus is just so Long Island... Earthy is more IN anyway. Dead Sea salt exfoliating, etc.
Don't you think there are many out there that find aging sexy? Listen to the all-knowing housewife: The key is to transition...abandon pseudo high-end and tweak your rugged-gay approach...I mean shit, even Target has gone global. So embrace thyself, forget the twenty something set with their "Raving green-lens Webster Hall circa 1999" ... transition to "worldly buddhist Chai yoga hottie". Take advantage of the fact that your age will lend credibility to a spiritually 'awake' image. Hide the fact that it takes work to look good and attribute it to serenity. And macrobiotics.
Take the gray and work it, baby... like the half gray cutey on "Guru to Go". Thats where its shut the feng shui up, soften your voice, and stop worrying about aging. Repackage the package.

tmp00 said...

Ask CB- there's not much rugged about little me.

But I must be giving off the wrong impression- I'm not in mourning over my lost yoof. I'm merely commenting upon the change. I love the phrase "worldly buddhist Chai yoga hottie"- that's exactly what I'm shooting for!

Sadly, Elizabeth Arden closed the Beverly Hills store in '93. The real reason I go to NM is that they give me freebies. That, and I bring the median age to just this side of dead.

Lily said...

Now you know I was teasing. I find modern culture to be a big never-ending comedy. freebies... yeah, i've heard about freebies...