Sunday, March 13, 2011

middle-life past

Next Sunday is my forty-ninth birthday, past middle age according to actuarial tables. What does forty-nine look like? Me, I suspect. What does forty nine feel like? Some days like twenty-one and some days like eighty-one.
Weight Watchers:
Lately I have been doing a middle-age make-over and have been attending weight watchers meetings with Lynda and Karen. Bonita has been participating, sans meetings (which means, at home). Karen has lost twenty pounds, Bonita has lost twenty pounds, Lynda has lost nearly ten pounds and I have lost, five.
About graying hair:
Both mom and dad went gray late in life, in fact, my mother is in her seventies and still has most of her light brown hair. Her gray occurred in two streaks on either side of her face before beginning to color in all over her head. Her eyes are pale blue and she looks as if she is going blonde. Dad, of course, died seven years ago and still had a good swatch of dark hair (what hair he had). I have cut mine short and refuse to color it anymore, it is streaked with gray and will grow out that way.
My eighteen year old son recently made the comment that nursing homes are full of sex. That old men in nursing home are "players" and are "getting it" all the time. Where he gets his information is anyone's guess.

"Life in Lubbock, Texas taught me two things: One is that God loves you and you are going to burn in hell. The other is that sex is the most awful, filthy thing on earth and you should save it for someone you love." Butch Hancock

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