When it comes to my body it appears that the only small and tight things left on/in it are the size of the cholesterol cells in my blood. And, wouldn’t you know it, those are the bad ones……yup, if I got it, it ain’t good fer ya. Apparently the big fluffy cells are the ones you want to have- who knew big was good? I have myself to blame, this is what happens when you go and get the results of your blood work.
The good news is that I am still kicking; the bad news is that I won’t be if I don’t put that chocolate away. Gasp….no more chocolate????? Yes readers, I kiddeth noteth. I am not allowed to eat chocolate, bread, candy, cake or anything else that makes sugar anymore! Because along with my dratted itsy bitsy cells, I also have too much sugar in my system. I have reached the end of the candy freeway, and unless I want my pharmacist to become even wealthier than he already is, I have to stop.
Well as you can understand that really pissed me off. As the chubby physician’s assistant handed me a library of pamphlets about diabetes, while she explained what I needed to do, I glanced at her round face and I asked her if she followed her own advice? Probably good that I did that at the end of the examination, or she might have told me that I needed an enema too…………………….. So here I am at 52 and 30 pounds overweight. My hair is white and my skin would make a really good pair of cowboy boots. I can almost tie my boobs up like a bow on the top of my head, I can’t remember the name of the last person I talked to five minutes ago, and I have to put on my glasses to look down at the scales to read how overweight I actually am. I wake up more tired than when I went to bed the night before, and if hot flashes could generate electricity, I would be able to keep Vegas lit up for a while. When I look at my face in the mirror, I think ‘maybe I don’t look so bad for my age’ – then of course I realize I don’t have on my spectacles, and when I put them on I feel like I am looking at the surface of the moon. I get very depressed……….
But then I go to the grocery store and see the old man holding hands with his sweet little wife who has Alzheimer’s, gently guiding her around the store. At Target I watch the woman who is about my age, with her adult Down’s Syndrome son following behind her like her precious little duckling, and I feel shame. Oh, such a torrent of conflicting emotions go through we women at this stage of life – I know it is not just me riding the crazy rollercoaster of rage, anger, forgiveness, hate, compassion and love. We have watched our children leave to live their own lives, and now we watch our parents leave our lives forever. We have all worked so very long in our careers, and we have become wiser for all the working. I wonder why it is that the same wisdom that gives us knowledge also tells us to keep silent because of our culture, our politics, our duty to always stay within the lines…. Don’t you wish you could say what you really think? It is tragic, but the era of honesty is dying with our parents, we poor mid-lifers are caught in between the generation of hard-working people that sought to provide, and a generation of people who only want to take. Blimey, such deep thoughts happen when I am forced to refrain from eating the things that make me happy! I hope I haven’t depressed you all! Jude the Thinker