Growing Older: I’m Addicted to It.
April 24, 2008, by Prudence Baird
Hi. My Name is Prudence, and I’m a Baby Boomer.
It’s not simple being a Boomer. You have to Take It Easy – especially these days with the less-than perfect balance and vision.
You have to live One Day at a Time – I’ve never figured this out, so we’ll just pass on it.
And, you have to Keep Coming Back, It Works!
Okay, that last one is bullshit.
I could make a fairly decent list of what works. But these days, I seem to spend a helluva lot of time on what doesn’t. My left knee, when I go upstairs. My right wrist, when I try to open a jar. My memory, whenever I try to remember what I was looking for when I first thought of something I now have forgotten.
Oh, sure, I try to stay young-ish. Who doesn’t besides those fools in Gen Y who are doing exactly what I was doing when I was their age?
Once, there were many ways to pass for younger. Thanks to a layer of baby fat in my face, I was carded up until 34. Then, that went away.
When I was 49, I perfected a way of writing my age so it looked like 44. The nine was left slightly open and both numbers had that round, is-it-a-four-or-a-nine, look to them. Unfortunately, this method of staying young only lasted 12 months.
Now, I’m back to the only way I know of to stay young, but it involves a lot of pre-planning. Have your children after age 36, as I did.
Children will run you so ragged you cannot ever get dumpy. They will demand the latest technology, so you have to know what it is, how to spell it and where to get it. You also have to figure out how to use it so you can discover, for instance, that your teenaged son has taken quite a few cell phone photos of his biology teacher’s butt.
They also keep you young by shaming you. Each child has his own unique way of doing this and it pains me to admit that I once did things to my face involving needles in order to not look like Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies. Once.
But all this doesn’t matter, because my 12-year-old son gleefully tells everyone – kids in his classroom, the waitress at Friendly’s, complete strangers – “My Mom’s 52!
Okay, so I’m a Boomer. Can I have my anniversary cake now?