Something I wrote approaching ten years ago
(I know most y'all are way over 60, but it may create a smile, or cause one to nod in agreement)
Here and Now
So, here I am, on the wrong side of sixty, weird things growing, wiry hairs, warts, splotches, odd indefinable patches, moles the size of moles,
and that’s just on my hind end.
I’ve got good hearing, but only in one ear. That works to my advantage when thingsl ike sleep deficiency events pose a problem, what with all the snoring, and deep REM flatulence.
I just put the good ear to the pillow.
Vision is going south.
Reading glasses are strategically laid throughout the house, cars, tackle boxes, and shop.
It’s not a serious issue just yet, but need to demonstrate more patience when trying to get the neighbor’s hibachi to fetch.
I make little noises when I commence to get outta my lazy boy.
I notice that those same noises will emanate from my wretched larynx when Icommence to sit in said lazy boy.
Speaking of larynxes, I find that throat clearing takes several tries…like starting an ol’ model T.
I have partial recall, and even that is a struggle.
I can put on 157 lbs in 13 minutes, just from sniffing a bran muffin.
After sixty, while you slumber, a pubic hair can grow the length of 3 feet…on the pointy part of your ear lobe.
‘Doc, take a look at whatever that is on my left knee.’
‘Gary, that’s just your right testicle.’
‘BTW, when’s the last time I ran my finger up your pooper?’
When in your 60s you must learn the difference between the words colostomy and colonoscopy…it’s important when checking in.
Of a morning, you’ll look in the bathroom mirror, and find a goblin looking back.
So just comb back your ear hair and greet the day.
Self-keeping becomes secondary.
‘Honey, there’s a puffed wheat in your moustache.’
‘Oh…..so?’
‘We had puffed wheat two weeks ago.’
‘And your point, dear?’
By sixty your underwear from high school has finally given up the ghost, so you retire the little strands of elastic,
but consider the frugal acquisition of 12 headbands.
You discover your new fresh (actually brilliant white) briefs are quite the contrast to the occasional poop stain…of which is no longer so occasional
……poop cake canbe come a concern.
Oh, and you discover you no longer have a hind end.
It has gingerly crept up and nestled onto your lower back, leaving you with just a six inch line and a tuft of hair.
The fire in your eyes is now just pain recognition.
Speaking of fire, get wunna those birthday candles that doesn’t blow out.
It’ll help you keep the fire.
(the larger font shouldn't require an explanation...)
