As the indomitable Bette Davis said, “Old age is no place for sissies”.  Amen sister.  As I dwell in what I hope are the middle years of my life, I am constantly amazed and dismayed at the new and innovative ways my body continues to betray me with each passing day.  I had a early taste of what it might be like as I’ve been turning grey since my early 20’s.  I started coloring my hair when it got to be entirely too painful to keep pulling the offenders out.  Being tall definitely helps me carry this off as grey hair is harder to spot on a tall chick.  I’ve lived with this one for so long, I didn’t think of it as evidence of old age.  Recently though, the reminders of my advancing age have become a speed bag of blows.

I’m not just speaking of the everyday aches and pains that happen to a body.  Yes the day after I do lunges in my workout my butt is killing me but seriously, I’m still sore 3 days afterwards?!  When did my upper arms start resembling raglan sleeves on a sweater?  What on earth is with these rock hard rolls on my midsection-which could never be mistaken for 6-pack abs more like several Pillsbury Grands rolls fresh out of the popout can-and why won’t they go away no matter how many miles I run or sit-ups I do?  And don’t even get me started on my ever evolving GI tract and the foods it has decided it just didn’t want to deal with anymore.

This my friend is a journey not for the weak but for the strong.  For the ones that won’t allow themselves to look backwards in a wistful way to what they once were but instead embrace fully who they are at this moment.  Ooh, gotta go, the oven buzzer for my Pillsbury Grands just went off.

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